Donna Noble could count on her fingers the number of times she'd actually witnessed the amazing event that her friends raved about when they went out for drinks every Friday night. The fight that Derek and Joanne got into last week, for example, was something that she had to hear from one of her mates, as well as Rachel's pregnancy announcement and Amanda's sacking. These stories were the norm, though, and Donna believed them without a second thought, but there were times when her friends would try to feed her stories about cruise ships flying through the air or navigation systems trying to murder people. There was even a time where they tried to convince her that the Earth had moved somewhere else, and when they asked her why she didn't know anything about it, she merely shrugged and raised her drink. "Must've had too many of these, I'd say!" she laughed, and the subject was changed.
But that night when she got home, just like every night that she heard an impossible story, she tried to think about it and got a headache so strong it forced her to stop and catch her breath. This time, instead of just letting it pass, she considered talking to her mum about it, but immediately decided not to. She knew exactly what she would say: "Oh, that's a bunch of rubbish." or "No daughter of mine is going to see a shrink! You're as sane as anyone."
And maybe her theoretical mum was right. Maybe it was all a bunch of nonsense. So she let it go and went to bed.
And then, like clockwork, the dreams came.
The dreams were always brilliant. Visions of expanding supernovas and stunning galaxies danced across her eyelids. She would walk on purple grass and feel its softness between her toes or taste a new fruit that made her stomach feel fuzzy and warm. She could sometimes look up and see a bright green sky with red clouds or a night with constellations as colorful as a fireworks display. There were creatures, too, animals that she'd never seen before. Some dazzled her, moving on three legs or calling out in beautiful songs, and there were some that made her run in terror, some that could only come from the minds of the children whose imaginations made them fear what lurked under their beds.
But no matter how fantastic or impossible her dreams got, and no matter how terrifying the beings that occupied them were, there was always one constant that made her feel safe. It was a man, a man that was clever and charming and a little bit mad. He never said his name, but she never cared because as long as he was there, she knew that she would be alright. He would take her hand or make her laugh, and everything that troubled her would melt away. They would visit these dream places together every night, explore new worlds and try new things until the sun rose and the alarm by her bed went off.
Then she'd open her eyes and, much like every morning, she would lose the dream. She'd try so hard to hold onto it, but it'd slip through her fingers like smoke, leaving her with nothing but fragments of the joy that she had experienced. And she would lay there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling as the joy also slipped away. Sometimes she would cry, frustrated by her lack of memory, but she would always get up and put it from her mind. A dream was always nonsense; it didn't do her any good to try and keep it.
No point in missing something that never happened, right?