Author's note: Dream and the rest of the Endless do not belong to me - they were brought to life by the amazing Neil Gaiman. But this story does belong to me. Don't steal it. And about the story...I don't really like it. So much more could have been told than I wrote, and I am just not completely happy with it. But as I'm not motivated to rewrite, I post it anyway. Enjoy.
It was on a Thursday that Dream of the Endless first noticed the girl. She was a dreamer, one of many floating in and out of his realm that night. She was not pretty, but he could tell that her dreams were filled with beauty. He stepped into them, careful not to disturb, merely wishing to observe. In her dream the girl walked along a silver stream, plucking purple flowers as she strolled. She was pretty in her dream, hair that was dirty and limp in the waking world was white and flowing. Her walk was graceful, although those who knew her would have described her regular gait as awkward and stiff. And in her dream a handsome man walked by her side, his hand holding hers, and his lips whispering sweet secrets in her ears. Dream of the Endless left her mind and thought of the girl no more that night.
It was on a Wednesday that Lord Morpheus visited his sister Despair's bleak realm and saw the girl again, reflected in one of Despair's dull mirrors. The girl's fists clenched her hair tightly, and tears ran down her red cheeks. A letter lay on the table before her, crumpled and torn. "Her brother has died," Despair mumbled, noticing Dream's notice of the girl. "She is distraught." Dream thought of a brother that was as good as dead and felt a brief flash of pity for the girl. He left Despair's realm, and when he was gone he thought no more of the girl.
It was a Saturday afternoon when Dream again saw the girl. He was visiting the waking world, and he noticed his sister Delirium sitting in a café. Beside her sat the girl, her hair cut short and her eyes devoid of happiness. Her lips smiled though and a sharp laugh escaped them as Delirium spoke to her, her words traveling like bubbles to the girl's ears. Dream approached them, and convinced his sister that the girl was not hers. Delirium walked away, chasing a song, and the girl shook her head as if she was confused. Dream returned to his realm and spent some time thinking about the girl and why he had interfered. He resolved not to do so again, for she was not his business, and he thought of her no more.
It was a Monday morning when Desire visited Dream's realm on a matter of some importance. Desire, before leaving, made mention of having made a shy young man fall in love with a sad young woman who would never speak to him. "His love will consume him, but she will never know of it, and so will be the source of pain in his life." Images floated in the air before them of a thin man with light brown hair, a writer, who gazed longingly at a sad girl who was familiar to Morpheus. Desire left, laughing over its cleverness, and Dream thought long about the girl that day, for he wished for her to be happy. The shy young man he recognized as one of his own, a dreamer, and so he convinced himself that anything he did would be justified. He then was reminded of a nightmare he had to deal with, and he thought no more of the girl.
It was a Sunday night when Dream of the Endless again noticed the girl in his realm and thought of what he would do for her. He slipped into her dream, which was a grey mess of sadness. The silver river still ran through her mind, but it was dull and did not sparkle as it had before. The girl walked along its banks, alone, and every so often would try to reach the other side, where a young man walked. There was a bullet hole in the man's head, and Dream knew he was the girl's brother. Behind the young man walked another, this one tall, dark and handsome, and Dream knew he was the girl's ideal love, and the kind of man she would never find. From his robe he pulled a shining silver stone, and he tossed it gently in the girl's direction. When it landed it grew into a shy young man with light brown hair, who walked beside the girl in companionable silence. The girl looked confused at him appearing in her dream, but as they walked, and she looked into the writer's deep blue eyes, her own eyes began to lose some of their sadness. Dream knew that when she awakened in the morning, she would think of dreaming of the shy young man, and she would continue to think of him until perhaps she took some notice of him. In time, her ideal love might change from tall, dark and handsome to a shy young man, with light brown hair and deep blue eyes, who was consumed with love for her. It was all Dream would do for her, and he left her dream and thought of her no more.
On a Friday, Dream was summoned by his eldest brother, Destiny. He walked by Destiny's side, and glimpsed a line in his book that read, "And by the intervention of Dream, the sad young girl and the shy young man were married." And Dream smiled quickly that things had turned out well, and when he returned to the Dreaming, he thought of the girl no more.
It was on a Tuesday that Dream spent the day with his sister Death, who he had not seen in far too long. As he walked with her, enjoying her smiles and conversation, they entered a small home. "Here are some of yours," Death told him, "one of them soon to be one of mine." The home was comfortable and happy, and they entered a bedroom where an old couple lay sleeping. As Dream looked at them, he saw that the man had once been young and shy, with light brown hair and deep blue eyes. The woman, a true smile on her sleeping lips, had once been hopeful and sad and disturbed, and he knew that she had finally been happy. And the woman took Death's hand, and before she was gone she smiled at Dream as he stood in the shadows, as if she knew that he had taken a part in her life. And when the day was over, and Morpheus returned to the Dreaming, he felt a sense of peace, although he could not have told you why, and he thought of the girl no more.