Omen entered the room, not expecting anything else but the master's impassive face. She did not know him nor did she probably care for him. He probably was exaggerating of course but a Jedi's unchanging face usually meant those were the same Jedi that didn't care for their troops one bit. He pushed it out of his mind for the moment. This woman had offered to help and so he would try to let her mend him on the inside with her experience.
"I won't waste your time Master, I know you are very busy fighting the Bryn of course with that announcement that has had you Jedi into a narrow-minded effort to prepare for and stop the demagolka at the expense of your bodies."
He took a deep breath as he prepared to spill out his epan. This is the first time he had talked about this with anyone on this issue and hopefully, the Jedi Master would give him the help needed to make the bad dreams go away.
"I've... I've been having dreams... nightmare visions really about terrible events that are to happen to me. I got my first real vision when I was an EOD trooper of the 41st Elite Corps at the 3rd Sector Army's headquarters on Chandrila, my first posting. I dreamed that a hundred people that I recognized from around the base, were on a platform above some sort of substance... I think acid... And that there was a rope beside me. If I pulled the rope, the platform would disappear and those same people would fall screaming into the acid. No mattered what I did, some kind of force guided me to pull the rope... and hear their screams of terror for every night for a month..."
He paused solemnly, those same screams coming back to him now, those same terrible screams that had to keep his eyes bloodshot and weary just to try to prevent him from seeing the same scene that night. He then recollected himself and started again.
"No medication would help and everyone just laughed it off or yelled at me if my screaming during the night annoyed them enough... My bunkmates eventually just ducked taped my mouth shut so they wouldn't hear my cries. "Nothing personal," they said "We just want don't want to get a case of your clone madness". Of course, no doc would help me either saying that "You are just making up excuses, here are some sleeping pills if you really need them. Now go back to your post Clone." No Jedi were around to help me either and they likely would have done the same thing... Eventually, the main headquarters building had a bomb threat. Some Separatist leaning nerf herder had thought it was a bright idea to stuff det packs into one of the headquarters holo tables and booby-trapped the panel the explosives were under. He or she must have had a lot of time too since they put more det packs on the building's supports that were connected electronically to the holotable bomb. I was called in to defuse the main holotable bomb and as soon as I tried to pop open the table's main access port, the whole building went up in one big firey blast, collapsing the whole building and killing nearly everyone inside as well as causing raining debris that would wound and kill more base personal outside... I... I think the total casualty count was in the hundreds but I try not to remember it..."
He took a drink of water from his canteen as he thought about how hard it was not to remember, that he had caused the deaths of innocents, regular civilian contractors that worked on the base every day plus all of his brothers. But in the end, all his mind could fade back to was how all the deaths were his fault. He could only push the harmful thoughts out of his mind again and continue on.
"The building fell around me and entombed me in that central war room. The ceiling collapsed on me and a piece of metal had speared through my left eye, leaving me with the fake one I have." He gestured loosely to the bright green unnatural replacement that was in his left socket before moving on. "When rescue teams found me barely alive in the rubble, they had to cut off my arms and legs to free me from the jari'eyc building. That accident that I had been foretelling to anyone that would listen was how I got my name "Omen"."
That was the worst day of my life. I lost my arms and legs and at the time, any hope of surviving and well... being useful for the only thing I was built for... war. At least I got a second chance when many of my brothers didn't.
"I was shipped on life support to Kamino where the gihaal declared me not capable of doing my duty for their grand army and were prepared to euthanize me and no offense to you of course master but the Jedi only stood back and nodded their approval, I guess seeing no other way of making me useful and giving my life back to the living force. I hold a grudge against them for that, for letting a race of cloners who made experiments for them to lead in their broken campaigns... I'm getting off-topic, aren't I... Well, the Cuy'val Dar of Mandolarian trainers swooped down to help me in time, convincing the kaminii to give me new prosthetics and train me as an ARC trooper as part of the cross-training program that turned normal troopers into special forces".
He was thankful to the Mandalorian trainers for saving his life of course but he didn't why they did it for just him when injured clones were being thrown out as useless junk every day. Maybe some special potential? He would never know...
"I went onto perform solo missions for the GAR in several campaigns as an ARC, eventually reaching Sergeant. I was proud of myself and all that I had done for the GAR but then... during the final months of the war, the visions returned. This time I was locked in an invisible cage and forced to look at the galaxy as it shrank further and further away from my reach. I was baffled by it at the time but now, I understand..."
He muttered under his breath before composing himself again. "Stupid aru'ela reptiles..."
"Now, I've been getting visions about the demagolka known as the bryn'adul and how they are going to swallow up the whole galaxy we live in and make us all slaves or worse, just killing us and everything we hold dear. Based on the Grand Master's announcements the last couple of days, it would seem like my visions are pointing to something awfully close..."
He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying not to hear the cries of trillions if not more of the galaxies' inhabitance getting wiped out by one big bite. It would be uncomfortable for anyone to try to comprehend and Omen could only blink away tears as he remembered all those poor refugees that he had seen on Sneeve with no food, water, or any of the basic resources they needed to survive, all from one maniacal race that wanted to turn this galaxy to ash. With another deep breath, he tried to finish up what he had come here to discuss.
"I don't know why I came here... I just want the visions and nightmares to stop... I want to sleep at night without having to worry about screaming at the top of my lungs whenever I wake up. That's all I want... Master, can you help me?"