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The Measure Of My Dreams

I took shelter from a shower, and I stepped into your arms
On a rainy night in Soho, the wind was whistling all its charms
I sang you all my sorrows, you told me all your joys
Whatever happened to that old song, to all those little girls and boys?
Now the song is nearly over; we may never find out what it means
But there's a light I hold before me,
And you're the measure of my dreams.
      -- The Pogues
      "Rainy Night in Soho"

The ground beneath his boots was cracked and broken, and he could no longer recall which direction he had come from.


The little boy stood in the rain, looking out across the ocean; he could feel the soft kiss of the water against his face, but he didn't care that he was getting wet. For some reason, he liked the rain. The secret part of himself, hidden away deep inside, thought that maybe if the sky was crying, he wouldn't have to. And he hated to cry; crying wasn't that bad when you had someone to hold you and take care of you, but he didn't have anyone left. Not since Sis had gone. There were the others in the orphanage, of course, but it wasn't the same. None of them had taken care of him like Sis had. Matron was there, but Matron was different. Weird.

(someone was standing there and watching him)


/i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a column of water snaking through the air with a sinuous grace the air feels cool against my body of liquid as i surmount the rock and coil atop it to release the wrath of my anger to pour out upon the earth and wash all enemies clean with the power of me and i am a thousand droplets of individuality with no cohesion holding me to my self until the waters recede and i am left with the taste of the river in my mouth and my skin damp wondering who i really am after all/


Who are you?

I ... I don't know. I don't ...

If you don't know who you are, you'll never be able to return.

Return? Return where? I'm not -- I'm supposed to be --

Just watch. You need to know how this all happened.


The young man held an unfamiliar weapon in his hand as he stood in the practice grounds, his stance textbook-perfect. He knew that he needed to be better, to be stronger, to be able to support himself. He knew that there was no one to take care of him; there was no one left but himself. Matron's husband was in charge of this place, that much he knew, but he didn't trust that, not after Matron had changed. He didn't know what had happened, but it had proven to him once more that he couldn't rely on anyone. He brought the blade around in a short circle, testing its weight, his face set in a determined expression. He would be the best. And then he'd never have to worry about being left alone ever again.

(someone was standing there and watching him)


/i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a shape of fire that summons a sphere of roiling molten lava lifts it to the heavens and draws back an arm the muscles ripple as i send the meteor crashing to earth to smite my enemies and cauterize them from the face of the planet and i am a thousand tongues of flame with no cohesion until the hot dry burning wind subsides and i am left with the scent of burning flesh in my nostrils and my skin warm wondering where i really am after all/


Where are you?

I ... Am I ... dead? Is this all that's left?

If you don't know where you are, you won't be able to find your way.

My way? What do you mean, my way?

You'll have to answer that question for yourself.

Look, I'm getting tired of this place! Why can't I see anything?

You can see what you remember.

Remember? I don't -- I can't --

This is why.

Who are you! Goddamn it --

The better question is, who are you.


The young man stood in the small double room looking down at his clothing in the drawer beneath him. A small, insignificant pain nagged through his temples as he folded the last of his cadet uniforms and stowed them neatly away; he moved some of his 'civilian' clothing out of the way to make more room. He frowned as he picked up a ragged old pair of sweatpants, many sizes too small; why had he saved them? He felt no particular emotional attachment to them. Perhaps they had been a gift from someone, long ago ... but from whom? He couldn't quite remember anyone who would have given him a gift. The other children back at the ... at the ... at the orphanage had never had anything to give as gifts, and the woman who had taken care of them -- what had they called her, Mother? Ma'am? Well, she had dressed them in different clothing, hadn't she? ...He couldn't remember. With a little frown between his eyebrows, he tossed the outgrown pair of pants into the corner. He would give them to the Garden staff, for cutting up into rags. He had his cadet uniform, and that was nearly all he needed.

(someone was standing there and watching him)


/i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a thousand night-clad bats that swirl together in the mid-sky to join into one dark-winged form that holds the entirety of space and time in his hands marked with incomprehensible symbols the fabric of the world distorts as i unleash the weight of time upon my enemies and pull them like taffy into shapes that are not their own and i am a thousand raven messengers flying apart with no cohesion and i am left with the weight of the earth upon my back and the feeling of years pressing in upon me wondering if this is real or if this is the dream/


Wait! Where ... where did you go?

Why do you wish for me to remain?

You know what's going on. I ... I want some answers...

You know the answers already. You just need to remember them.

Why are you doing this to me! All I want to do is get home!

Do you? Where is home?

Back at the Garden ... back with my friends, and with ...


All right, damn you! With Rinoa!

Was that so hard to say?


The new arrival to the Garden looked at him strangely, as if trying to figure something out. He ignored the blond boy and continued his workout.

"Squall?" the other young man finally asked, almost hesitantly. "Squall, is that you?"

He turned his head, a bit impatiently; how had the boy known his name? "Squall?" the other boy continued, stepping forward. "It's Zell. Don't you recognize me? Man, I know I've changed, but I didn't think I'd changed that much..."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Zell," he said, briefly, before going back to his swordwork, not realizing that his forgetting was complete.

(someone was standing there and watching him)


/i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a shard of purest ice.../


/...sweep through the sky my dragon-voice lifted in a scream.../

Irvine! Zell!

/...and i am a thousand bits of ground raining down with no cohesion.../

Quistis! Selphie!

/...left with the crackle of the lightning on skin and the sense of emptiness wondering just why i need to do this after all.../


/... the tears hot against my cheeks and the terrible sense that a part of my mind has been taken from me leaving nothing in its place/


I -- I want to go home...

You will. Just keep walking, and find the way.

But I can't -- I'm lost --

You will find your way. Rinoa is waiting for you.

She is... Who /are/ you?

Don't you know, Squall?

I am you.

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