The thing about being the Dreamer that people seemed to 'forget' was that the dreams always came. Another thing that people forgot was that dreams weren't always good; sometimes they were bad, and sometimes they were downright terrifying. Lately, he seemed to be having a lot more of the latter two than the former. His bed was only a mattress on the ground, but falling from it repeatedly night after night would leave a bruise and always made him jump, trying to relax his breath again, trying not to wake her from her own slumber like he'd done so many times before. There was soft mumbles, as she rolled over into the warmth of his space, burrowing into the blankets a little more, and he managed a smile. Standing, he shook himself out, slipping his feet into his discarded boots and leaving the space they'd carved out as their 'room'. He couldn't shake the dream off as easily. Pity that.
There was always someone awake in the Heartbreak; they'd fixed it up as best they could but the scars remained and haunted the halls and not everyone could sleep with the memories hanging over them. No one wanted to find somewhere new though. This was home, anywhere else wouldn't have the right vibe to it. His hand traced along the cool stone of the wall, fingers touching the aging paper of the posters with that ever present awe. They crinkled under his fingers and a smile flitted on to his face. His boots thudded softly on the ground as he made his way along, listening for signs of other live in the Heartbreak.
"Awake again, Dreamer?"
"Not really sticking to the name, am I?" Galileo gave a soft laugh as he sat down on the platform beside Meat Loaf, who was drinking steadily from a coloured bottle. He picked at a stray thread of his jeans, and looked out across the darkened 'main room' of the Heartbreak. They had managed to get the scorch mark off the floor finally, but the place still brought the memories back. He glanced slightly at Meat, drinking and sighing, looking down on to the floor with dulled eyes. Coming back here had to have been harder for her, maybe, but she was most determined to stay home.
"So was it a bad dream?" she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking over at him with simple curiosity. "Or just not shagged out enough?"
Galileo gave a small laugh, looking down to the floor. "I think this is the dream," he said slowly. "I keep … thinking on how everything's turned out and it seems like it can't be real, that my life can't have gotten right after al this time." Meat was quiet, but he could feel her eyes on him as he spoke. "I woke up in that room, no idea of where I was, barely knowing who I was and I looked up and there she was, ripped right from my dreams and... what if I'm still in that room? What if this is the dream?"
"Brit'd be alive."
"...Yeah." Galileo looked away. "Yeah, he would be."
"But the music'd still be sleepin'," Meat added, shifting to lean her head against Galileo's shoulder. She gave a yawn, her words coming out in a sleepy murmur. "We'd still be searchin' an' the Kids would still be imprisoned."
"Life's a prison anyway," Galileo muttered back. He glanced down as Meat gave out a soft snuffling sound. She was asleep on his shoulder. Ah well. He lifted her head gently, slipping off the leather jacket and laying her down flat, head cushioned with the leather beneath it.
"You really think tha', Fizza?" Scaramouche's voice was soft, still showing signs of tiredness, but she was aware, eyes narrowed as she watched every moment the muscles in his back made as he turned towards her. He gave a shrug, lifting the top slightly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he blinked into the dull light that the Heartbreak provided. "You're an idiot," she told him. "If this is a dream, then I'm just a figment of your imagination."
"It gave me you before I ever met you."
"This is real life, Gaz," Scaramouche stepped over, placing a hand on his arm. "You. Me. Meat. Pop. Macca. Cliff. All the Bohemians. We're all real. You're not dreaming anymore." Galileo frowned, as if trying to accept this reality was harder than anything he'd experienced before.
"I'm caught in a dream, and my dream's come true," he told her, "so hard to believe this has happened to me..."
"Well it has," Scaramouche touched his cheek. "Real life, right?"
His hand covered hers.