He dreams of blood. Of things he's done, things he's seen, and things he can't help but imagine. And all of them contain that precise drip drip drip. He can not escape it, or himself.
No matter what happens in the dreams, whether the blood should be dried—oh, kami-sama, he'd come too late—or gushing—blue eyes, not accusing, but determined—or whether there is anyone bleeding at all, still the blood drips. The pattern never changes, drip drip drip; it is always blood dripping from his hands.
Most commonly, lately, the dreams hold nothing but darkness and his hands, dripping blood. It doesn't take much to realize the meaning behind them, but there is nothing that he can do about it, the drip drip drip. He can't erase the past, can't even erase the memories of what he's done, the blood he's spilled. All he can do is watch the drip drip drip in horrified fascination until his own silent screams pull him from his restless slumber.
Even then, though, he still hears it, the drip drip drip of blood long dried. And he stares around his darkened room, searching for something—someone—that he knows isn't there, before turning over, trying to reclaim at least the semblance of rest. But he never can, and the companions of his waking hours watch his shadowed eyes and wonder, if he too, hears the drip drip drip.
…This is, if you can't tell, Sasuke's dream. Nightmare is more like it. I saved this for the end because I didn't want to ruin the mood in the beginning. Very different, ne? I was inspired by Memphis Lupine's fics, specifically First Corinthians 13:13. Obviously, Sasuke isn't mine. Sadly enough, if the characters were mine, they might just be crazier than they already are…