deus deceptor

It strikes him, suddenly, on a perfect summer’s day, after a perfect picnic lunch, that his life really is perfect.

That night, he dreams of a beach.

This beach isn’t perfect. There’s death, and the threat of annihilation, and pain and suffering. All he knows is anger and bitterness, and Charles is crying out in pain…

He wakes abruptly, and Charles is stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

[It was just a dream, Erik. Just a bad dream]