Writer's Block Sucks!

...Viserys held his tongue, but that afternoon he went home deathly pale for the second time in as many months.

* * 1 * *

Rain splashed down the windows, and a thousand weary thoughts chased each other through Viserys' head. Images of beasts and battles, machines and myths, everything that had ever been under the sun or moon; everything he had ever seen, in real life or in dreams. It had been two years since the visions had first begun, and he remembered every one clearly. Every detail - and most of those were gruesome - was etched into his mind.

There were times when he could no longer differentiate between his own true memories and those he had acquired from the visions. Often, the only way to know was by the content; his own featured school, friends, and family, not cannonballs and assassinations.

Viserys watched the sheets of water slap against the trees outside. He leaned his forehead against the window. It was cold, startingly so. He paid no mind.

Not every vision occurred the same way. Some came as dreams in his sleep, others attacked in broad daylight. Most were merely quick flashes, impressions, little longer than an instant; others dragged on for hours. Fortunately only one had lasted over a day, and it had occurred in the middle of summer while his parents were out of town. He was generally unaware of the world around him so long as the vision lasted, and occasionally for some time afterward, but there had been times when a portion of his mind was still functioning in the real world.