fandomhigh | Good Omens...And Bad: Prophecy in Theory and Practice, Lab Five

Friday, October 6, Second Period

The room is arranged in a combined of big, extremely comfortable looking armchairs and piles of large, also comfortable looking cushions and pillows. The lights are dimmer than usual, there is the faintest hint of a scent, as if of fresh spring air, and very soft music is playing.

"First off, I want to remind everyone to hand in your take-home test from last week. And in honor of Homecoming, there will be no homework today.

We're veering from the printed syllabus a bit for today's class, because I want to match our labs a little better to the class lectures. On Monday, we discussed dream interpretation. Today, we're going to experiment a bit with our dreams.

Before we begin, I want to stress two things to you. First: this lab exercise is entirely voluntary. Anyone who feels uncomfortable participating need only speak up, and I will assign a different exercise. Second: you are completely safe. This room is protected from any outside interference, and the only...energies, so to speak, that will be able to access it are those that are connected to you personally. The source of your own sight, your own prophetic abilities. Nothing can hurt you, and I will be keeping a close watch on everyone.

Now, the exercise. I want you to get comfortable. Curl up in one of the chairs, find a place on the cushions, whatever you prefer. Count to one hundred, or recite Latin verbs, or whatever it is you usual do to calm your mind so that you can sleep. I'll help you along, so that once you're in a relaxed state, you'll be sure to fall asleep. You may not reach a dream state, but if you do, once you awaken I'd like you to write down anything you recall about the dreams you had in your journal. You won't be sharing these with the class, although you are more than welcome to come and see me next week if you have anything you'd like to talk about with me."

Anyone who decides to participate in the lab will find that the atmosphere of the room is incredibly relaxing, and very conducive to sleep. The naps will actually only last about twenty minutes, leaving plenty of class time afterwards for writing down notes or chatting with the other students.

[ooc: As the professor says, this is an entirely voluntary lab exercise. If your character is absolutely dead set against trying it, just let him know. Anyone not participating might be asked to help monitor the others. If you do dream, and you want something to happen, please ping me in the OOC thread so I know to keep watch on your character specifically. ~~Please wait for~~ OCD threads are up. Have at!]

Syllabus
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Lyra settled down on a cushion, looking slightly uneasy. Pan crawled up to drape himself around her neck.

"We don't have to do this, you know," he whispered in her ear. "It's just a class."

"Yeah," she whispered back. "But this 'just a class' might be the key to reading the alethiometer again."

"I know," he sighed. "At least it feels... safe in here."

"It does, doesn't it?" Lyra trailed off as she slipped into a shallow slumber.

[ooc: and I'll reply with a dream later.]

Lyra's sleep gradually deepened, until she fell into the dreaming state.

Lyra stood in a field of snow, dressed in her normal school attire: a tartan skirt and button-up blouse. She shivered as a cold wind blew across her face, swirling her hair like a yellow banner.

She heard a noise behind her, and she turned around to see a woman holding a golden monkey in her arms.

Suddenly, she wasn't in the North anymore, she was in a cave, that cave in the hills of Tibet.

"Hello, Lyra," Mrs Coulter said, softly but with an air of menace beneath the velvety tones. Lyra said nothing.

"I've someone here to see you, Lyra." Mrs Coulter set the monkey down, and it circled around behind her, eyeing Pan greedily. A child stepped out from behind the woman. Its face and form were changeable; one moment it was Roger, the next, Tommy Makarios. Now it was Angelica, now one of the girls from Bolvanger.

Mrs Coulter had a knife in her hand; how had that happened? Lyra couldn't see where it came from. She stepped toward Lyra, her face somewhere between a hard, brutal cruelty and a cajoling sweetness. It was disconcerting to see.

"Lyra. You've got to stop. Stop it, Lyra." Mrs Coulter said firmly.

"What?" asked Lyra. "Stop what?"

"Stop this instant, or I shall have to take measures." Mrs Coulter lifted the knife.

"I don't know what you mean!" Lyra exclaimed. "Stop what?"

Mrs Coulter shook her head, almost sadly, and turned, drawing the shimmering silver blade across the other child's neck. Tony Makarios' liquid eyes widened in surprise, and then rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed in a bloody heap.

"Oh, God!" Lyra put her hand to her mouth, her vision becoming blurry with unshed tears.

"Now, Lyra." Mrs Coulter turned back to the girl. "Do you see? Do you see why you must stop?"

Lyra shook her head violently, angry tears running down her face. The knife in the woman's hand was now a cup, a steaming cup full of something that smelled like lavender and decay.

"Drink, Lyra. Drink this." Mrs Coulter held out the sup to Lyra, who stepped back.

"No," she said. She sobbed, once, and held her breath to stop more from coming. "I don't want it."

"Drink it!" Mrs Coulter followed Lyra until she was pressed up against the back of the cave with nowhere to go. "Lyra, drink."

"No! No, Mama, I don't want it!"

After about ten minutes of dreaming, Lyra's brow furrowed in her sleep. She turned her head, as if avoiding something. Pan's fur was standing on end, and he writhed away from Lyra's neck.

Aziraphale had been keeping a careful watch on Lyra, and when he saw her begin to move, and her little furry 'pet' react to something unpleasant, he moved over to her and knelt down. Touching his fingers very lightly to her hand, he coaxed her back out of the dream state so that she would begin to awaken.

Lyra's eyes opened, staring blankly up at her professor's face until she realized where she was. Then, remembering waht she'd dreamed of, she rolled onto her side and curled up, sobbing silently.

[ooc: now with the right icon!]

Aziraphale gently stroked Lyra's hair until her tears abated. It bothered him that so many of his students had dreams that were so upsetting to them.

"It's all right, child," he murmured. "Come now, sit up and have a cup of tea. Nothing can hurt you here."

It took a few minutes, but the sobbing finally trailed off. Lyra sat up, rubbing her red eyes and wiping the tears from her face. She looked up at the professor and blushed a deep crimson. Pan nuzzled her neck in sympathy.

"I, ah- I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled into Pan's fur.

"Completely understandable, my dear. Drink your tea, and see if you can't write down what you remember. And then we'll talk about it, if you like."

He gave Pan a little pat as well, and handed Lyra her tea.

Pan absently shied away from the touch, making sure there was no contact between the two. Lyra took her tea and sipped it to cover her mortification.

She nodded and reached for her dream journal, a brown book covered with gold designs, and started writing in it. Her hair swung forward, hiding her face from view.

Pan's movement surprised Aziraphale, and he drew his hand away and nodded apologetically at the little creature instead.

"My door is always open, Miss Belacqua, anytime you want to talk. And it doesn't have to be about the assignment, either." He smiled at her, and then slipped away to check on the other students.

Good Omens...And Bad: Prophecy in Theory and Practice, Lab Five

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