This is kind of short, but it gets the point across. This is shown every Sunday on some digital TV network and it wormed its way into my mind. I don't know what I'm messing with here (I've missed a few episodes and at first it was just a thing to watch since the other Sunday cartoons were cut), so I could use a little help. If anyone ever decides to read this. The title is taken from a Rolling Stones song, by the way. At any rate, since I don't really have anything else to say at the moment, let's go on, shall we?
Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize.
Minette was having The Dream again. It was a bizarre collage of minute-long scenes like something from a Hollywood romance movie, mute and fuzzy-edged. She was observing the interaction between a thin, dark-haired woman and a tall, muscular brunette man. At first they were sparring, then attending to a royalty figure, then holding hands and kissing even. Has she not known what happened next she would have been happy for the couple, whoever they were. But it wasn't so.
There was a great war. They were separated, he to fight and she to help the wounded. The nest scene was but a silhouette, of the man's right arm being completely separated from his torso. He was taken to a primitive medical center along with the severed limb. The woman's sorrowful expression haunted Minette as she recognized her injured lover. She fell to her knees, crying into the back of his remaining hand.
It shifted to a plain room, the man lying on what appeared to be a stone table and the woman staring at him, eyes filled with angst and depression. The young royalty figure approached, followed by two men holding something covered by a white sheet. He exchanged a few words with the woman and the cloth covered thing was laid next to the warrior. The sheet was pulled away to reveal an arm made of solid gold, fitted in place of his missing one. The woman said something to him and a smile crossed his face. She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead.
Then he died.
Minette always woke up after this and she was thankful for it; if she had to watch anymore of the woman's suffering she was sure it would make her physically ill. The Dream practically did anyway. She lay in the middle of her bed, covered in sweat twisted around her ankles. It was sweltering in her entire apartment and the tank top and shorts she'd worn to sleep in an attempt to help had proved useless. The heat and The Dream made her nauseous and she knew the rest of the night would not be welcomed.
The red numbers on the clock read four-twenty-seven in the morning. Minette rolled her eyes, realizing that the heat and the threat of having The Dream again would prevent her from sleeping any further. She stood, relishing the feeling of the cool hardwood floor, and moved to the living room. She sat cross-legged on the couch and turned on the TV, hoping for something to distract her. She ended up watching some cheesy, predictable horror movie until the sun came up.
Now that the obnoxious yellow light was out, the dullness of Sunday set in. She didn't have any college classes, no homework, and the museum was closed, meaning she didn't have to give tours. Having nothing to do outside the apartment didn't mean there was anything to do inside. She could clean, but her residence was already pretty clean. There was the museum....
I'm doing that, she declared mentally, reentering her room to pick out fresh clothes before showering. After twenty minutes, most of the time attributed to savoring the cold water, she emerged in a white camisole and a pair of cutoff shorts she'd trimmed way too high. She grabbed her scancard off the table, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and exited the room.
The sun blinded her as she left the building, content to walk as long as she got to the heavily air conditioned museum. When she finally came across the oasis she slumped in one of the corners close to the door, finding the coll air sweeter than ambrosia and abandoning her plans of helping the cleaning staff. Before she could stop herself she was lulled to sleep.