Dreams Are Dreams
…a Sandman fanfiction by dreamkin…
…characters property of Neil Gaiman…
Dreams Are Dreams
chapter one : dreamlords anguish
The Dreaming was a wasteland, razed, in sympathy with its masters' mood. There was a deathly silence hanging over the realm, and all the inhabitants were quiet and still. Even in Fiddlers Green the birds had ceased their singing, and the waterfalls quietened their roar. The Dreaming was a desert, waiting for its master to return to normal.
***
In another plane, parallel and yet interwoven with our reality, four other beings rested. Similar to the Endless and the folk of the Fay, these beings resided outside our concept of Time. They were not mortal, yet could be destroyed, and again similar to the Endless, another incarnation would appear if one was harmed. And these beings played and rejoiced and carried out their functions in peace and tranquillity.
***
Lord Morpheus of the Endless had sealed himself in his throne room. He had not spoken to anyone for over a year now, not since speaking to the Lightbringer, and had no intention of doing so either. He was sitting in a chair on the floor, with his long legs thrown over the arm, and the huge coloured glass windows hanging in the air behind him were dim or even black. He was in an awful mood, a mixture of anger, regret and self-pity.
Sat with his arms crossed over himself, the Lord Dream stared into space, not seeing the dark, twisting patterns the windows made as dreamers came and went from his realm. His black hair was more unkempt than usual, and formed a wild aureole around his head. Eyes half closed, so the many beautiful stars within could not be seen, his pale face was gaunter than ever.
He sat, unmoving, for months, while outside the desert that was the Dreaming grew steadily more barren.
***
In their separate realm, the beings scanned the multiverse and saw the Dream King's sorrow, a ugly mark staining the realities. And the beings, who lived for beauty, were distressed by this unnatural occurrence, and met to consider ways to end it.
***
Lucien stared out of a window in the Library and shuddered. He understood how his master was feeling, but couldn't help wishing that Dream would recover soon. The Dreaming felt cold and unwelcoming, and Lucien shivered unintentionally. He pulled his green robes closer to him. At that moment, Merv strolled into the Library. He was, unsurprisingly, pushing a wheelbarrow, and, also unsurprisingly, smoking the dream of a cigarette.
***
In the throne room, Lord Morpheus had not moved. Assured he was utterly alone, he finally allowed his body to express the anguish his spirit was enduring, in the form of a solitary tear falling from his left eye. No stars flickered in their depths now, and had not for decades.
***
"Hiya Loosh," said Merv. "Still no sign of green then, eh? I dunno, one mo' the place's fulla flowers and them goddamn butterflies, next, its a desert. I guess we all kinda gotten used to it by now tho'. What's got inta the boss, eh? I mean, it's been years! Ain't he ever gonna let up?"
"Good morning Mervyn," replied Lucien, crossing the floor to his desk.
"That's the fing though, innit? It ain't a good morning."
Merv dumped the wheelbarrow in the middle of the floor, and sauntered over to Lucien, taking a long drag on the cigarette as he did so.
"Whatcha up to?" he asked, idly poking a volume. Lucien deftly took it out of Merv's hands and placed it on a shelf out of the way.
"I am reorganising the horror novels Mervyn. What with the recent change of atmosphere in the Dreaming, the amount of nightmare accounts has increased quite significantly. In fact, many dreamers have started completely new books."
"Really, ya don't say?" said Merv, with a completely uninterested expression.
"Yes, indeed." answered the Librarian, drawing himself up to his full (considerable) height. "Is there anything I can assist you with, Mervyn?"
Merv considered.
"Well, now I come to think about it, no. I jus' thought I'd pop through as I take this stuff for a conservatory over to the other side of th'castle. Y'know," Mervyn settled down for one of his favourite pastimes, "It's sixteen miles to that bit of the castle. Sixteen miles! An' then I'm s'posed ta organise all the workers in my sector to build a veranda straight after! An' I gotta list as long as your arm of fings I gotta do by tomorrow..."
"Then I'm sure you won't want me keeping you," cut in Lucien.
"No, course not. Seeya later Loosh."
Mervyn picked up the wheelbarrow and sloped off. Lucien could hear him muttering to himself as he went.
The Librarian returned to his duties. He had only become librarian a few years before this unhappy incident, and was still easing himself into life as something other than a raven. He still greatly missed the company of Eve, even if she had a new raven now. Although his job was vitally important to the Dreaming, Lord Dream did not pay much attention to Lucien. He spoke to his servant occasionally, but did not regard him as a friend. Then again, Lucien reflected, the Lord Shaper had few friends. Too few, really, which probably played some part in his reaction to his recent misadventure.
The tall man shuddered. He had not known the young lady, although she had dreamwritten many tales stored in the book cases, but Lucien had to admit that the rumours that were flying round the castle were harshly cruel. If even any of them were true, then Lucien would be forced to look at his lord in a new light.
***
The tear ran down the Dreamlord's cheek, taking decades to move the merest fraction of a millimetre. Time passed, and nothing improved.