how far is the journey from here to a star

When he used to get similar dreams, his surroundings were just meaningless backgrounds conjured by his sleeping mind. No dream were exactly the same as the previous one.

Now… Now even though he can't explain how he knows it, he knows that it is exactly the same dream, night after night.

The same strange reoccurring dream…

Because while it starts normally enough, the way it progresses leaves him gasping for breath upon waking, as if he's just narrowly escaped drowning.

More and more, he wonders if that's not precisely what's happening.

So, the dream starts the same.

Grace standing on the shore, staring at nothing in particular, blue ocean deceptively calm.

What alerts him that something is coming from the depths, he cannot explain. It's not anything observable at first. It's more of a feeling. And as much as Grace does not like such subjectivity, there's no denying it.

Why else would he drop his gaze to the ocean moments before the hue starts morphing from vibrant blue to deep purple to unsettling red?

There's an animalistic instinct within him that urges him to flee. Something within that screams at him that he is prey and whatever is coming is predator.

He stays rooted in place.

Because there is another part of him warring with that same timeless instinct, something distinctly human that whispers that there is much more happening. It's not just his natural scientific curiosity coming into play either.

It's the same complex combination of emotions that makes him look down in the first place. It's that queer feeling of resonance that prevents him from running away when it becomes clear that the ocean has turned to blood.

It's when that realisation hits that a hand, tentacle, outgrowth limb reaches out for him. It grabs at the cuff of his pants and Grace is still stuck between two states, between fleeing and staying. He falls backward, landing ass-first into viscous crimson warmth. He barely even notices.

His whole attention is focused on what is emerging in front of him with its maw gaped around large serrated teeth.

It's horrifying lonely monstrous…

He can't possibly begin to describe what he is looking at, not if he wants to keep his sanity intact. He can't, not without getting the terrible impression that it is all some unspeakable distortion of himself.

But no. That would be complete arrogance.

This is definitely something completely separate from him.

The proof of that is in its bottomless gaze.

In the dark eyes that have started haunting even his waking hours…

Those he can describe.

Beautiful.

At that point of the dream, there is no sound to be perceived. It reminds Grace of space. Somehow, even knowing he's still lying in the sand and ocean-turned-into-blood, the comparison doesn't feel wrong.

The easy explanation would be that this is simply because it is part of a dream. After all, a dream doesn't need to make sense. But that doesn't feel right.

It doesn't explain how Grace – even without sound, even without any words shared – how Grace can still understand him.

Understand how he would beg night after night.

Come, he begs Grace, voiceless. Find me.

And before Grace can reply – before he can make a choice…

Grace wakes up gasping in his bed on Erid, the distant sound of waves crashing on the artificial shore definite proof that he's no longer in the dream.

He wakes up and stays still, catching his breath and doing his best to ignore the metallic tang in the air. He stays still, feeling the echo of his alien loss in his own slowing heartbeat. Feeling lost.

Unlike dreams from before, this dream-

(the same strange reoccurring dream)

-doesn't get clouded into mist. No matter how long Grace stays awake, the-

(horrifying lonely monstrous)

-details do not lose their sharpness.

It takes weeks before Grace finally mentions it to Rocky. Weeks before he admits he's started to believe he's being hunted. Or even, possibly, haunted.

By then, there is no more ignoring the smell of iron whenever he wakes up. No more ignoring the nosebleeds.

No more ignoring that there is something wrong with him.

And yet, when Grace tries to explain the dream, only one word passes his lips.