Geralt had tried over and over again to figure out what could have triggered the dreams, but he could never figure it out. It wasn’t as though they were unpleasant dreams, though very few dreams were when compared to his reality. No, he might even be tempted to say that the dreams were pleasant, if they weren’t so confusing! At first, he had wondered if he was reliving some of his own older memories, but nothing in the dreams fit with what he remembered of his life before the witcher training.
The dreams seemed to center on a young boy with dark brown hair and eyes as blue and clear as the sky in summer. There never seemed to be any purpose to the dreams, and he couldn’t interact with anything or anyone in them. He could only watch the boy as he did whatever he happened to be doing at the time. The dreams did not come all that regularly, no set schedule though he never went more than a few months without having one. After the first few Geralt had determined that they didn’t seem to be causing him any harm or hindering him in any way, so he shrugged and let them be. He had more important things to occupy his time than figuring them out.
Geralt continued on the path and the dreams continued to come occasionally. He watched the sky-eyed boy in them, Julian he learned eventually, get older. He watched him play with other children and make flower crowns for his mother and sisters. Watched him learn to read and write and play music. Watched, and listened, as Julian learned to sing and as he discovered his love of the lute. He never told anyone, not even Roach, but his favourite dreams were the ones where he got to watch the boy sing and play his lute throughout the night. Something about the music always soothed him and he always woke feeling better-rested after them.
The years flew by, as they always did for a witcher on the path, and then Julian was no longer a boy but a young man off to further his education, and then still a young man but older now and off on a path of his own, determined to make a name for himself with his music. Through all this Geralt continued not to really question the dreams, they were small moments of peace from his battles but nothing more. They were pushed far from his mind in the waking world, so far in fact that he didn’t recognize Julian at first when he saw him in real life.
He’d noticed the bard in the tavern, of course, but had dismissed him easily enough. Sure, the voice may have sounded a bit familiar but Geralt traveled a lot and spent much of his time in taverns. Many bards did the same, so it was possible and even likely that they’d crossed paths at some other tavern in the past. It was of no matter to him. At least, it wasn’t until the bard decided to bother him and Geralt had looked up and into sky-blue eyes he would know anywhere. It was only his years of practice at keeping himself calm and controlled that saved him from choking on his tongue.
And Geralt hadn’t been able to find it in himself to truly chase the bard (he went by Jaskier now it seemed) off. Julian had been his moments of peace for so long, a part of his life for so long even if he didn’t know it, that it felt natural to transfer it into his waking life in the form of Jaskier. He was grateful to the dreams for that, even if he could never solve the puzzle of how they came about. Plus, they gave him a way to keep track of his bard when their paths took them in separate directions.