Shalimar
First Post
Dreams. Dreams are funny things... they never truly tell you what your thinking, they always twist things, make the impossible seem possible, make the improbable seem likely. Yes, dreams are indeed funny things, there is a single constant in dreams, only one, in th end, as wonderful a paradise as a dream can be, as horrible of a hell, in the end, you awake from them, shedding the rules of the dream world for those of the real world.
You weren't suppoused to dream in coldsleep, thats what you were told. It was all suppoused to be a simple thing, an anesthetic to send you into blissful unconsciousness, and then they were suppoused to perform the procedure. You weren't suppoused to feel a thing, just the needle and then the sleep. It was suppoused to feel like you were only sleeping for a moment, blink your eyes for a moment, and you were suppoused to awaken years later, in a time where there was a cure for your disease.
Unfortunately for you, Coldsleep is not what its advertised as, its a natural assumption that they exagerated the truth to make all of you more pliant, less willing to fight the procedure. Whether they did know and lied, or they did not, you did have dreams. A series of endless dreams, strange dreams, dreams in which you did things that weren't normal, weren't human. Now, unlike most dreams, these dreams were different, but they always had the same elements, you always did the same thing, you always used the same unnatural power.
With a hiss of escaping nitrogen, the lid of your of casket slides to the side, opening, allowing you to take your first gulp of air in who knows how long, as consciusness finally returns to you. Flashing red lights illuminate the room, showing a room full of vertical coffins, each with a bewildered teenager falling out of it, gasping for breath as they try to take in their surroundings. Everyone in the room, male and female, is wearing a black body-stocking tight enough to know that there is nothing under it. When one boy staggers and falls, you can all clearly make out what appears to be a barcode on the back of his neck, as well as a gold set of numbers going down his right arm, 00199.
The room is a a swirl of chaos as close to 40 voices starting asking questions all at once, bubbling over each other. A girl that looks rather familiar to all of you falls to her knees between the four of you. She is shivering, and her blonde hair has swept down over her face like a curtain.
You weren't suppoused to dream in coldsleep, thats what you were told. It was all suppoused to be a simple thing, an anesthetic to send you into blissful unconsciousness, and then they were suppoused to perform the procedure. You weren't suppoused to feel a thing, just the needle and then the sleep. It was suppoused to feel like you were only sleeping for a moment, blink your eyes for a moment, and you were suppoused to awaken years later, in a time where there was a cure for your disease.
Unfortunately for you, Coldsleep is not what its advertised as, its a natural assumption that they exagerated the truth to make all of you more pliant, less willing to fight the procedure. Whether they did know and lied, or they did not, you did have dreams. A series of endless dreams, strange dreams, dreams in which you did things that weren't normal, weren't human. Now, unlike most dreams, these dreams were different, but they always had the same elements, you always did the same thing, you always used the same unnatural power.
With a hiss of escaping nitrogen, the lid of your of casket slides to the side, opening, allowing you to take your first gulp of air in who knows how long, as consciusness finally returns to you. Flashing red lights illuminate the room, showing a room full of vertical coffins, each with a bewildered teenager falling out of it, gasping for breath as they try to take in their surroundings. Everyone in the room, male and female, is wearing a black body-stocking tight enough to know that there is nothing under it. When one boy staggers and falls, you can all clearly make out what appears to be a barcode on the back of his neck, as well as a gold set of numbers going down his right arm, 00199.
The room is a a swirl of chaos as close to 40 voices starting asking questions all at once, bubbling over each other. A girl that looks rather familiar to all of you falls to her knees between the four of you. She is shivering, and her blonde hair has swept down over her face like a curtain.