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She had been sitting there for so long that her dream had faded into obscurity, a crumpled mass of vague images like poorly-developed photographs, a churning low in her stomach, a strange tang in her mouth. Metallic, almost like blood. But it was worse, somehow, to have lost the clarity of it. There was nothing to be afraid of. The thought of the Daleks made her heart freeze. The Cybermen made her throat tighten. The yeti set her whole body trembling. And all of them were real. She knew why they gripped her body the way they did. Simple cause and effect, even if the cause was her own timidity, and the effect was her own weakness. This, though…
There was nothing to be afraid of. So why had her hands not stopped trembling, even after being clenched against her knees for so long?
Five nights. Five nightmares. Victoria, struggling to find herself amongst the ghosts of her past.