The Dream

January 8, 2016 — snow.

I had that dream again. The one I can never seem to escape.

In the dream, I'm back in Germany. Mother is in her wheelchair, a blanket over her lap, her face completely blank. I call out "Mom," but she doesn't answer. Then she turns away — and tells a doll that she loves it most.

I'm standing in the doorway in my tiny plugsuit. I just want her to look at me. One glance. That's all.

But her eyes — empty. Like she's already dead.

In the dream, I cried. When I woke up, my pillow was wet.

From Shinji's room, I heard something — maybe he was having a nightmare too. He got up and went to the kitchen for water.

I clenched my fists. I can't be weak. I can't be like him.

Mother was a NERV scientist. One of the core minds behind the Eva project. She sealed herself inside Unit-02 while she was still alive. I'm the daughter she left behind, and the pilot who carries her will forward.

I can't stop now.

I just wish she'd looked at me, just once.