Title: In This Dream…
Author: Not An Infant
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I've recently locked Brennan in my basement. She's helping me with my anatomy homework. Tee-hee.
A/N: It doesn't take long to have another dream about the things you think about the most. Like when Michael Jackson died, I had different dreams about him for two weeks. Those dreams I will never disclose to the public. However, these ones I will, so be happy and be healthy.
She doesn't know why she has this dream, again and again. She can't predict when it happens—sometimes once a week, other times two weeks in a row. The shock she feels afterward is always, always directed at the same thing: the way the dream ends. And what she is so shocked at shocks her even more.
In the dream, she is in what seems to be a club, much like the one they went to in Vegas to solve the double murder case. People don't notice her; they are too busy doing what they do in casinos. The lights are soft and the walls are brownish-red. She is wearing a brown mid-length petticoat, complimented by brown slacks. This observation is important to remember for future references, she comes to understand after the fifth time she has the dream.
In the dream, she asks, "Where am I?" though deep down she already knows by now. Suddenly she is trapped in a sort of invisible bubble that distorts everything else around her. Beams of light smoothly glide in different directions; they are soft on the eyes, but so very bright, brighter than the sun.
And then, in this warped bubble, she turns to her right and sees her reflection. She walks toward it, intent on pushing through the bubble to get back on the other side, but then her reflection morphs into his.
Her first wild thought is that she has turned into him.
"Booth?" she breathes. And suddenly, he walks into the bubble out of nowhere, like the bubble was never there. He's wearing his signature tuxedo that flaunted "FBI Agent." His face is so serious, but tenderly so. Before she can say anything to make sense of this illogical turn of events, he launches into speech, stuttering along the way
"I—just wanted to let you know that I love you, and will always love you. I want to be with you for however long, and…just that I'll be whatever you want me to be. Just that I love you…very much."
Her heart expands in her chest, filling her throat, against her will. Maybe this is a dream, but she'll take whatever she can get. She can already feel an answer in his favor floating up past her lips…
And then the scene changes. She's standing far away, the bubble having disappeared to once again showcase the natural casino, where everything is the same, save for two people in an embrace. Blinking twice, she realizes that it's herself. And him. Locked in a passionate kiss, with their arms wrapped tighter around each other than that would allow oxygen. His outfit has changed drastically to the normal, out of work attire she loves—the leather jacket, the dark blue jeans. It is what she sees herself wearing that means the most to her.
The woman that was kissing him was wearing a white, quarter length, buttoned with the cuffs at the end of the sleeves rolled up. Her bare, porcelain wrist is adorned with a simple silver bracelet, winking in the warm light above them.
She gets it. She knows what it symbolizes. The only thing she doesn't get, when she wakes up abruptly, is why she wasn't wearing a white dress instead.
That confusion alone is why she can't look at him in the eye anymore.
~end~
A/N: Again, this is just me trying to build a story around a dream I have no idea the meaning of. Bear with me and please review. Be warned; flames will be used to warm me when the winter comes. Hope you enjoyed it.