It had been a hurried few weeks since the fiasco with the Remnants, something that wasn't helped along by the fact that there were some wounds that even a full cure couldn't completely heal and the exceedingly strange dreams he'd been having lately.

Not to mention the apparent newfound telepathic link with people.

It had given Tseng a lot to think about while sorting through the mess things had become to see what could be salvaged and what needed to be disposed of. He'd taken a few days to travel to Junon, he'd needed to sleep in his own home and bed for once and had told Cloud during one of the telepathic episodes that he'd meet him there.

So he sat outside the small coffee shop on the corner of his street every day reading and waiting for him to show up. He's not in his suit, though his clothing choice has never varied far from the dark colors he so often inhabits. His sweater is a pale blue, zipped against the chilly sea wind and to help disguise the bulk of bandages. The one on his face is still present though, and it will likely leave a scar.

Talaria: the winged sandals of the god Hermes (Mercury). Or, in this case, the sleek, dark blue motorcycle currently traveling the Nakasendo Highway at the easy pace of 100 mph. A tribute to Ami's will, the road is smooth and empty enough to run at these speeds. A tribute to the Suzuki Hayabusa, she hasn't even put it through its paces yet.

It's a trip stuck in the past, through the collective memory of Japan for hundreds of years, kissed by a springtime sun. Puddles dot the ground to suggest a recent, fertile rain. The roadway itself seems modern, but the post towns all along it are carefully preserved and restored to the Edo period. She whips past them all.

As her hair flares with the wind, Ami keeps her eyes pointed forward and her speed high. The point isn't where she's going; it's getting away from where she's been.

The air is clear, beautifully clear. There's no Mist anywhere, only the clean air and the blue sky and the faint white streaks of cirrus clouds, high above. Rising from the earth are trees, lush and green, trees of every kind, and in the clearing in the midst of them, tall grasses grow blissfully, as if they've never known a drought. It's like a garden grown wild, spangled with flowers, garlanded with vines, dotted with berries.

This wood and the meadow in the midst of it resemble nothing so much a world that has never known war or chaos or calamity, though that is far from the truth. It is a world that has seen its share of devastation, that has almost been destroyed, more than once.

The meadow is dominated by flora, but not empty of fauna: a man and his silver dragon are at rest in its center, lounging in the middle of this pastoral scene. Kuja sits beside his large friend, idly stroking its hide. Shortly, another dragon appears in the sky. A distant speck at first, it grows steadily nearer, until it descends from the sky and alights on the ground near its fellow dragon. Kuja doesn't so much as glance at it at first, instead turning to regard the person who he finds standing on the edge of the wood, looking on.

"Ah, there you are. I've been waiting. As you can see, your mount has arrived." Now he gestures toward the second dragon, which stands attentively, as the first dragon and Kuja rise to their feet as one. "Are you ready to depart?"

When Rei wakes up, it's not a real awakening. She can just tell that she's stepped from her usual sleep into a dream. It also helps that she steps from her bed dressed in her Senshi uniform, bright red heels contrasting sharply with the stark white of a snow field laid out before her. She shivers. How familiar. She tends to dream about the Arctic; it's a sticking point in her mind, especially when she's uncomfortable. Probably something to do with her death; that kind of thing leaves a mark on your psyche.

She takes a few more steps out into the whiteness. Usually she wakes up recalling nothing more than being cold, but this is different. More solid. More real than it has been before. So she walks out into the empty field of snow and ice, wind rustling past her with biting cold.

"Why can't I dream about something nice for a change?" Rei asks aloud, turning around to look back--and instead of the cold arctic, there's a sandy beach, sunshine beating down and water lapping upwards in the ever-rolling tide. She looks back. Snow and cold.

"Dreams are weird."

[ Cid would probably curse a blue streak if he saw what Aerith's subconscious is calling an "airship". Oh, she admires the sleek steel of the Highwind too, but she wanted... a nicer one. Something a little more personal, a little more cute.

It turns out whimsical, a wooden boat held aloft by dozens and dozens--no, hundreds--of rainbow-colored balloons massed together, propellers steadily chugging it along over the sea. There's a wheel to control the direction, and yet:

There's no pilot.

There is a young woman in pink sitting on the railing of the ship, her legs swung out to the outside, feet dangling over a blue sash that decorates the boat. She doesn't seem to mind the height. Her balance isn't too bad. She has her face pointed in the direction of the vessel's course, her eyes focused as she considers the distance. ]

Is that where you're taking me? This one time?...

[ Her birthday. Even though she's no longer alive to celebrate it--but she can have a nice dream for it, right? ]

((ooc: Oh. Why I shouldn't make posts late at night: I forget to explain!

Your character can be the one taking Aerith somewhere. But they could also just be a passenger, in which case she's talking to the wind. ...She does that.))

John dreamt he was driving.

He knew his dreams well. They were almost always with the same traits. It is the first time in years he has ever had a lucid dream, but it's strangely not one he is in control of. He was driving past the massive cedar trees of the Highland Mountains of Reach. He recognized the Longhorn Valley and the Big Horn River.

Even as he dreamed being inside of his armor, he recognized the soothing scent of the trees. It's been many years since he's been home.

The Spartan looks down as he holds the handles of his vehicle. It's a model of a Mongoose he didn't expect to ever get past the planning phase. A two-wheeled variant. A massive abomination of a motorcycle meant to carry the size and weight of a fully-armored SPARTAN-II, and move him through places with an agility and size not even the standard model would provide.

As he looked up, the scenario slowly revealed a small asian town behind the blurring trees as he sped past. The Spartan turned and took a small stone path, passing shrines and several houses as his vehicle growled with the movement.

His visor looked at the houses. Then turned to see at what laid beyond.

It was not a common dream. It was not a natural one. But in the meantime, he was about to dive deeper into it. Know what it was about. And what was sending those dreams.

The Galbadian plains and Monterosa Plateau have a web of roads and railways traversing the open area, it's still mostly wild though with a few monsters that harass the foot bound traveler at the nearest opportunity. The fact there there really isn't anything other than the odd train station to mar the wilderness was something that made it one of Seira's favorite continents. It was quiet other than the wind and distant rumble of trains.

It was also a great place to drive like a maniac.

She'd gotten a rather beaten up looking vehicle that had at one time been used by the army. The windows were rolled down and the radio was pulling in something that was more static than anything most of the time. Hyperion was in the hollow built for gunblades in the dashboard, and a half gone cup of coffee sloshed in an improvised cup holder between the two front seats.

"Sorry 'bout the radio. They're still workin' on getting the stuff up now that communications towers can be used." She said over the rattle of the vehicle, grinning. When the road had veered away from the direction they were heading she'd simply gotten off of it and kept driving.

The Grid looks the same day after day, cycle after cycle. Sleek black roads and buildings with glowing lines of energy to decorate them. TRON City is at the heart of the Grid. The skyline doesn't quite go on forever, broken up by the mountains of the Outlands. To the far distance is the Portal - the way out of the Grid. Only one person ever used it: Kevin Flynn. The Creator. Then, his son, Sam Flynn.

Quorra is standing in the roads of the city, looking up at the rain that seems to always fall. She's out of the Grid now. Free to explore the User world. In her dreams, she always returns to the city. She can't tell if it's before or after CLU took over, but it's always empty. Alone in a ghost city. Maybe it's because she's the only remaining ISO.

She sighs and leans against one of the railings of the road.

A dream without Charles is a rare thing, but she has his essence with him. She's stretched out on the lawn, his cat curled up next to her stomach and purring loudly. As she looks up in the sky, the clouds form the distinct shape of people she's known. The dark clouds are Charles' mother and step-father. Her own parents. Everyone she's always been afraid has ever wanted to hurt her or Erik. But then the skies lighten and she can see the good people, too. She can see the professors who all thought Charles was a little odd, but who recognized his brilliance, she can see the young man who always asks her for a cup of coffee when she picks up the newspaper. They're all there for her to see.

Soon, the clouds are changing into other people and things. She watches as a purple dragon chases a blue butterfly through the clouds. They slide in and out of the other clouds and she's sure she even hears the dragon roar, though she could be mistaken by that. She must be mistaken by that. She must also be mistaken when the dragon begins to look a lot more like Cain than any animal. She curls her hand a little in the kitten's fur when the dragon starts flying lower and lower and closer to her. Does he mean to eat her? Is that to be her punishment for abandoning him in favor of Charles? The clouds start to darken again and the wind begins to howl. Lightning cracks against the sky and her hand tightens even more.

And then, just like that, the dragon/Cain catches the butterfly and swishes away again. Her hand eases as the skies turn back to normal. When she finally lets go, she's shocked out of her reverie by the kitten pouncing on her stomach. Before she can do anything about it, the kitten runs off.

She gets up after a minute and follows in the direction of the kitten, calling after her. "Blueberry. Blueberry!" She's not sure what she'll do if the kitten's run off somewhere, especially since it's her fault for hurting the poor thing. Relief floods her when she sees the kitten sitting by the door as if she was just waiting for someone to let her in. She's licking down the spots of fur she can reach that are still sticking up from Raven's tight grip. It takes her a moment to realize that Blueberry is not alone.

"Oh, hello."