A/N: So my last author's note is probably more accurate starting in the next chapter…I'm doing this without rewatching because one, I don't really have time to rewatch the first two seasons, and two, it'll seem more as if it were a dream—because you never truly remember your whole dream. Even if you're a Time Lord in disguise. And also, I know that in Human Nature, the Doctor says that he wrote down his dreams as fiction, but to write this story the way I want to, it'll be more like a cross of fiction and a diary/journal. Again, these are going to get longer as I get into the actual episodes. So I hope you enjoy!

Before I detail these dreams—which often seem too real to be dreams, but I digress—I must say that in them, I am not of this world…

I often dream that I have two hearts. That I am from a world far off in the stars. There is a blue box in them, a box that takes me wherever I wish to go, and any period in time I wish to visit, I have the ability to.

When my dreams first began, I had just escaped my home. A terrible war had erupted between my people and another group, metal beings with spokes that killed.

Everyone was murdered. The world was in ruins, houses in shambles, dust wherever one looked. Children were dead. It seemed as if the terror would never end.
Some of these stories in my mind have caused me to wonder if a point could be reached that it would be better to murder every human being, rather than allow them to suffer. And it seemed that in my dreams, I had a much different opinion.
I believe in hope. No matter how terrible something may get, there is always a way out.
But the man in my dreams, who I shall refer to as 'the Doctor' (that is what others call him, though I am sure this is not his true name) does not seem to share this view.

I—or he—sacrificed his entire race to save himself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I was running.
From a large Citadel, I was racing the demolition. Beside me, my friends, my family, fell, as I simply kept sprinting, an unnamable technology in my hand. What must have been a gun from that world was in the other, and I periodically shot the other race as they flew above my head. The sound of death and bloodshed was everywhere. It infiltrated one's ears, one's eyes, one's entire being. I had to get away. To end it all.

I could see the blue box ahead of me, protected by some technology. It sat with other boxes in a secluded area of the landscape, as though unimportant. But I knew they weren't.

As I approached them, the sound of the war muted itself minutely—I was far away from the main fight. However, it was still loud enough for one to be left deaf afterward. Now I know that I could still hear only because it was a dream.

Pushing open the door to one of the boxes, I ran in, discarding the gun and rushing the unknown technology to the middle apparatus, which looked somewhat like a type of console. Wires sprouted out of it, and I attached them to the technology, though I am not sure now how I did it so meticulously. But no, it was a dream—all things are possible in them.

I did not have time to reflect on what I was doing. All my friends and family, all those I did not know who were still alive, would be dead. I would be dead. The silver trees. The orange sky. The mountain ranges with red grass. All of it would be gone forever. But if I did not do what I was meant to do, the war would continue. The other race would continue to kill, and once our race was gone, they would go on to kill all other races—though I am not sure what other races my dream self was referring to.

I turned the switch that would cause all the warriors, as well as our planet, to fall out of existence. It was either us or the whole of reality.

And as I began hearing explosions, I heard the sound of the blue box as it brought me to safety.

I simply wanted to return, to die with the rest of them. Without my planet, my family, friends, there was no reason to go on.
But no, as I left the box, I recognized the planet I had visited before. Green grass, blue skies, with no idea of what had just happened millions of miles away.
It hit me just then. That everything I had ever known was destroyed. I would never return. I slammed the doors as I returned to the blue box, and braced myself against the console, tears I had not noticed on my face.

Then I noticed the reading on the technology that had caused it all. A terrible fear seeped through my veins as I realized what had happened—radiation from the apparatus could not be stopped from spreading through the box unless I gave it a week or so—and I brought my hand to my face, noticing a gold colouring in it.
All I can recall after this was an immense pain that caused my dream to end.
I remember waking up screaming.