The girl puts her gloved hands over her ears as if the noise hurts her, although it doesn't. It's more the way that that sound pierces through her ears, sends a ringing reverberating through her head as sound waves reach the inner ear and the —
Her hands drop to her side, then, face vague. She knows how to make this stop. "Cochlea," she says, holds out her arm, spins her hand around. She pulls a knife from her boot and brings it to her face, the tip just clearing the entrance to her ear, she knows how to make this stop —
— and then the scenery changes again but it's less violent this time, more like pulling the tablecloth out from a stack of glasses. It's still the same backdrop, but a different part of the forest, maybe, because the girl isn't anywhere in sight and neither are the angry mob who were coming for her. The siren has stopped. There's snow falling gently in a quiet forest, and it should be safe, but it feels dangerous; there is a sense of urgency, a need to run, but no one to be running.
The dreamer knows they're dreaming, at least to enough of a degree to know that something keeps interrupting the dream that isn't supposed to be there, and it's not Benji; it's a shape.
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Her hands drop to her side, then, face vague. She knows how to make this stop. "Cochlea," she says, holds out her arm, spins her hand around. She pulls a knife from her boot and brings it to her face, the tip just clearing the entrance to her ear, she knows how to make this stop —
— and then the scenery changes again but it's less violent this time, more like pulling the tablecloth out from a stack of glasses. It's still the same backdrop, but a different part of the forest, maybe, because the girl isn't anywhere in sight and neither are the angry mob who were coming for her. The siren has stopped. There's snow falling gently in a quiet forest, and it should be safe, but it feels dangerous; there is a sense of urgency, a need to run, but no one to be running.
The dreamer knows they're dreaming, at least to enough of a degree to know that something keeps interrupting the dream that isn't supposed to be there, and it's not Benji; it's a shape.