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Description
SPECIAL NOTE: For the purposes of making the rest of this story's narrative clearer and less convoluted, whenever I refer to Tracey's dream doppelganger, I'll refer to her going forward as 'Dark Tracey', just for the sake of not getting Tracey and her younger self confused.
Alright, now that we've established who is who, we can rejoin the artistic and written madness already in progress...

To say that Tracey was completely flabbergasted would be the biggest understatement of the year, and it was getting harder to grab onto any sense of reality; then again, trying to sort out what was real and what wasn't in a dream kind of defeated the whole purpose of this blooming madness.

Being set adrift in a sea of darkness and shadows was getting increasingly uncomfortable and quite honestly, very scary, a sensation Tracey was not used to dealing with. One way or another, in spite of what was going on, despite the odds against her, she knew deep down she had to hold on to whatever bits and pieces of her real life to maintain her sanity; otherwise, it was bye-bye Posh Princess.

Not thinking of anything else better to do at the moment, Tracey reached out tentatively toward her younger self, to see if what she was seeing had any solidity or if by a slim chance it was nothing more than any trick of the gloom. Favoring her older self with an amused smirk, Dark Tracey stepped forward, making herself available for Tracey to touch.

"You--you are real." Tracey said softly, her voice quivering with astonishment at the realization her young double was essentially as real as could be expected in a nightmare.

"Right the first time, Tracey, old gal. I'm as solid as a rock, and I can tell you quite confidently that I can hit just as hard, as no doubt you already know from past experience."

Tracey nodded knowingly, then said in a less frightened tone, "Okay then, what do you want from me? Who are you, really?"

Dark Tracey shook her head, acting like a schoolmaster wanting to admonish a slow-witted student. She clasped her hands behind her back and said, "My dear, dear Tracey, I don't think you're getting it. You see, I'm what you might call your killer instinct, that aggressive side of you you used to tap into and rely on to get you through your toughest fights. Now, I don't know what exactly happened to you, Posh, but from what I can gather, you've lost that instinct to beat the living shit out of your opponents and frankly, I find that to be truly pathetic."

Tracey tried to object when Dark Tracey cut her off with an abrupt gesture. "Uh-huh, let me finish, sweetie. You see, darling heart, I'm here to teach you a little lesson on how to regain your aggressive streak you've tried so hard to tamp down and bury, and if you and me need to stay here forever, then so be it. I'll be more than happy to provide that lesson... whether you like it or not."

Description
SPECIAL NOTE: For the purposes of making the rest of this story's narrative clearer and less convoluted, whenever I refer to Tracey's dream doppelganger, I'll refer to her going forward as 'Dark Tracey', just for the sake of not getting Tracey and her younger self confused.
Alright, now that we've established who is who, we can rejoin the artistic and written madness already in progress...

To say that Tracey was completely flabbergasted would be the biggest understatement of the year, and it was getting harder to grab onto any sense of reality; then again, trying to sort out what was real and what wasn't in a dream kind of defeated the whole purpose of this blooming madness.

Being set adrift in a sea of darkness and shadows was getting increasingly uncomfortable and quite honestly, very scary, a sensation Tracey was not used to dealing with. One way or another, in spite of what was going on, despite the odds against her, she knew deep down she had to hold on to whatever bits and pieces of her real life to maintain her sanity; otherwise, it was bye-bye Posh Princess.

Not thinking of anything else better to do at the moment, Tracey reached out tentatively toward her younger self, to see if what she was seeing had any solidity or if by a slim chance it was nothing more than any trick of the gloom. Favoring her older self with an amused smirk, Dark Tracey stepped forward, making herself available for Tracey to touch.

"You--you are real." Tracey said softly, her voice quivering with astonishment at the realization her young double was essentially as real as could be expected in a nightmare.

"Right the first time, Tracey, old gal. I'm as solid as a rock, and I can tell you quite confidently that I can hit just as hard, as no doubt you already know from past experience."

Tracey nodded knowingly, then said in a less frightened tone, "Okay then, what do you want from me? Who are you, really?"

Dark Tracey shook her head, acting like a schoolmaster wanting to admonish a slow-witted student. She clasped her hands behind her back and said, "My dear, dear Tracey, I don't think you're getting it. You see, I'm what you might call your killer instinct, that aggressive side of you you used to tap into and rely on to get you through your toughest fights. Now, I don't know what exactly happened to you, Posh, but from what I can gather, you've lost that instinct to beat the living shit out of your opponents and frankly, I find that to be truly pathetic."

Tracey tried to object when Dark Tracey cut her off with an abrupt gesture. "Uh-huh, let me finish, sweetie. You see, darling heart, I'm here to teach you a little lesson on how to regain your aggressive streak you've tried so hard to tamp down and bury, and if you and me need to stay here forever, then so be it. I'll be more than happy to provide that lesson... whether you like it or not."