The Randomness of Life~Chapter 89 for "A Little Drabble Do Ya" ~ Section VII Drabble Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ususally the 'Randomness' installments are half-drabbles based on lines or stanzas from a poem

but today it's a double-drabble prompted by:

"The House Of Dust: The half-shut doors through which we heard that music"
~Conrad Aiken

                 

The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are so softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence.
The stars whirl out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain

Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.

Where have we been? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness,

Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;

Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain . . .
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.

Perchance not to dream:

Napoleon tossed and turned as the dream returned again to haunt his sleep.
He rarely experienced them, unlike Illya who was taunted by them frequently.

It finally made sense why the Russian could fall asleep and the drop of a hat,
anywhere or anytime. His nightmares didn't allow him a restful nights sleep.

And now it was Napoleon's turn, making him even more sympathetic to his partner.
He recalled the words to a poem, but couldn't recall who'd penned it.

"In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep. Where have we been?
What savage chaos of music. Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness. Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more."

That's what these assignments would do at times, the lingering tension and fear would come back in their dreams…

"Ah to sleep, perchance not to dream for once," Napoleon sighed, looking at his friend who was fitfully tossing and turning. Illya would never tell him the source of the dreams; they were his private torment.

Just as Napoleon had his tonight. Why couldn't his dream be of a moonlit beach...a beautiful woman in his arms?

He closed his eyes, willing to make it so...

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Ah, so very fitting for these men. The poem is perfect and the misery of a sleepless night well told.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks! It themed out well with Avirra's drabble too. Ah to sleep...

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Those two must have enough nightmares between them keep a shrink wealthy for years. Nicely done.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you. We all seem to be dealing with nightmares, one way or another in our fics today. Ahhh great minds think alike. :D

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Mice drabble but I want more. This would be an interesting story! Napoleon and Illya on the couch. Well, maybe not at the same time. Come on M. You can do it! More. More. More.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Hahahha! Thank you for your comments and enthusiasm! Would have to put on a back burner as I HAVE to finish my mini-bang. So remind me so I don't forget but will try to do a continuation, just for you kiddo!