It's not unusual for her to dream of death and all the connotations. Even before her parents turned out to be evil, Nico found herself questioning the difference between life and death and what happens beyond; this is largely in part due to her Christian upbringing, where everyone is shamed into believing that they have to be the best person possible or they will go to hell. Or, in many cases, it's already been decided, so it's better not to fall down that path. Every aspect of belief ends with death. Every person is vying to get there.
Except now things have changed—the dreams of death are less falling off buildings with the echo of promises of damnation in her ears, and now they're replaced by a different damnation. It comes before death, covered in rocks or eaten by giants, others would find it ludicrous, but for her, it's the abstract of her life played out over and over. Sleeping is a difficult task to achieve when this is often what's waiting for you.
(And sometimes, though, she has the rocks falling on her while her parents are just off in the distance, reminding her that she's a slut or that she's evil for what she's chosen to do—for how she's chosen to give up their brand of salvation.)
So when she finds herself in a coffin in this dream—it's unmistakably a coffin, even if she's never been inside one herself—surprise barely registers for her. She only wonders why and how it is she died this time, a vague, fleeting thought that won't occur to her later when she wakes up unless she tries to examine it closely. (If she remembers. These types of dreams tend to blur together.)
Shock doesn't register. A need to escape doesn't register. Nico accepts that death would come eventually, so she closes her eyes and waits for it to be a reality.
Only it's interrupted by the sound of a familiar (grating) voice. Why is it that Nathan is here? Why is she lucid enough to question this?
"You're dead," she says. But she doesn't explain why he's dead (something nags at her that it isn't possible, but it isn't reaching her here, not in this world) or why they're here together (no point; Nico always figured she'd die with someone at her side and that it would probably be her fault). "They're not coming."
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Except now things have changed—the dreams of death are less falling off buildings with the echo of promises of damnation in her ears, and now they're replaced by a different damnation. It comes before death, covered in rocks or eaten by giants, others would find it ludicrous, but for her, it's the abstract of her life played out over and over. Sleeping is a difficult task to achieve when this is often what's waiting for you.
(And sometimes, though, she has the rocks falling on her while her parents are just off in the distance, reminding her that she's a slut or that she's evil for what she's chosen to do—for how she's chosen to give up their brand of salvation.)
So when she finds herself in a coffin in this dream—it's unmistakably a coffin, even if she's never been inside one herself—surprise barely registers for her. She only wonders why and how it is she died this time, a vague, fleeting thought that won't occur to her later when she wakes up unless she tries to examine it closely. (If she remembers. These types of dreams tend to blur together.)
Shock doesn't register. A need to escape doesn't register. Nico accepts that death would come eventually, so she closes her eyes and waits for it to be a reality.
Only it's interrupted by the sound of a familiar (grating) voice. Why is it that Nathan is here? Why is she lucid enough to question this?
"You're dead," she says. But she doesn't explain why he's dead (something nags at her that it isn't possible, but it isn't reaching her here, not in this world) or why they're here together (no point; Nico always figured she'd die with someone at her side and that it would probably be her fault). "They're not coming."