Jun. 17th, 2008

eidetiker: (Brooding)
(Do you dream much, Will?)

Will doesn't dream much, no -- no more than anyone, he thinks. When he does, they tend to be vividly detailed at the time and then misty in the morning.

Tonight, with the photographs of the murder scene strewn over the floor of his room, intermingled with notes on yellow legal pads, he's dreaming

of the Jacobi's house in Birmingham, clean and sterile of any evidence of the Dragon's transformation. He wanders through the hallways and peers into the rooms. Impalpable statues are on pedestals in some of them.

(Lecter might recognize the statues the layout of the house, the architecture. This could be a wing of Graham's memory palace, furnished with mnemonics and decorated with patterns of ideas, like neural pathways.)

A snake lies dead in the corner of one room, its back broken. Will ignores it. His footsteps are silent against the carpeting.

Outside, the trees are budding with sticky spring leaves.

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Will Graham

September 2008

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