Chapter 7: Birth of a Dream

Nothing happened.

There should have been fanfare, a flash of gold, an explosion like at the crater, something... anything...

The night remained quiet. The Man in the Moon shone brightly, but sent no beams down to raise the fallen Guardian.

Jack gently placed his friend's limp hand on the ground, sat back, and looked heavenward. Tears were still pooling at the corners of his eyes, but they had stopped falling. "Come on, Manny," he whispered. "Do something..."

But still nothing happened.

Jack closed his eyes, hung his head, and wrapped his arms around himself. Did the memory stall? Had the trauma of reliving his death taken its toll on Sandy?

Something warm settled on his back.

"Jack?"

He opened his eyes. Sandy was still lying on the ground in front of him, but there was a second Sandy crouched by his side, a hand on his back, eyes filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" Sandy asked. This was just like on that disaster stricken beach...

Jack nodded and wiped his eyes. "That was quieter than I was expecting."

"These things usually are." Sandy smiled at him, and it wasn't the smile of someone trying to hide their misery. It was the genuine article. Sandy reached out a hand and the pouch of sand, which was lying on the other side of his body, floated over to him. He stood and undid the ties. It was Dreamsand that coursed out.

Jack got to his feet and smiled as well, letting the streams of bright gold that now surrounded them flow over his fingers. He looked at Sandy, who was happily watching the sand drift through the village and into the huts.

The man who was standing before him was not the same as the one on the ground, but he wasn't the pale, sand-clad little guy Jack was familiar with either. Sandy almost looked like his human self, but his hair was now a shimmering gold, and his skin had a rich glow, like candle-lit bronze. On his right shoulder his wounds had transformed into an intricate design of spirals that shone golden from within. He made an impressive Spirit, but he wasn't the modern Sandman yet.

It didn't matter. As long as he wasn't the broken, dying shell he was moments before, that was enough for Jack. Once the Dreamsand was gone, Sandy found himself with an armful of Winter Spirit, and, like last time, he didn't hesitate to return the hug.

"Let's never do that again," said Jack, not joking at all.

Sandy chuckled. "Agreed."

They broke apart, Sandy smiling his usual smile, and Jack shifting awkwardly. He couldn't believe he pulled one of those a second time. Clearing his throat, he said, "So... what happens now?"

"I return to the the beginning," Sandy answered. He set off towards center of the village.

Jack's heart started racing as he stepped in line. Sandy couldn't possible mean they were about to start the memories over... could he? "H... Hey... What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only what it means."

"Do you need to be so cryptic?" Jack asked, his shoulders slumped.

Sandy stopped. "I am trying not to be, but it is... difficult for me. I'm not used to explaining things this much, and... besides, have you ever met a dream that was easy to understand?"

"You're not a dream, Sandy."

At that, the older Spirit threw his head back and laughed. It was a warm, rich sound; the first time Jack had heard its like, and it was strange because he couldn't figure out what was so funny.

Sandy shook his head and continued walking.

"Oookay..." Jack was going to have to trust that whatever came next wasn't anything bad. Sandy certainly didn't look worried.

At the center of the huts was a bonfire surrounded by the Elder, the hunters, and a handful of women. Pouchsnooper arrived at the same time as the two Spirits. "The stranger is dead," he announced gravely.

Sandy tilted his head and looked around at them, confused. "I... I am here."

Jack rolled his eyes as Sandy stepped up to the young man and tried to tap him on the shoulder. "I am here..."

Sandy gasped and leaped back when his hand went through. He clutched it to his chest as though it pained him. Jack's heart went out to the young Spirit. He remembered that soul-shattering shock all to well, and he hastened to snap Sandy out of it. However, Sandy saw this movement and shook his head. He was somehow both in and out of the memory at the same time.

"What do we do with the body?" one of the hunters asked. "Do we bury him as our own?"

The Elder stroked his beard. "I believe that would be best."

"I do not," Pouchsnooper interjected. This earned him hard glares from most of the group, but an intrigued glance from the Elder. At the old man's prompting, he continued. "The stranger said he came from the Sea. I believe he should be returned to it."

A murmur went up around the fire and an older hunter said, "Too dangerous."

"It is only three days."

Jack blinked. They were that close to the Red Sea? Sandy had come almost full circle.

"The body will stink when touched by Sun," argued another. "Animals will smell it and come for you."

Pouchsnooper (whom Jack was growing respect for) looked them all over cautiously until the Elder nodded at him. "He was a fish, and then a man. He may now be something else, something that will watch over us while we return him to the Sea. He spoke of his people at the end. He wanted to return, and I will give that to him."

The group bowed their heads and began to quietly, almost reverently discuss this notion.

Jack turned to Sandy and said, "Did everyone used to this naive?"

"No one could imagine the world as anything but what it was, and so if someone told a tale, no matter how strange, it had to be true."

"But you lied," Jack pointed out.

Sandy smirked at him. "We could all lie. Only I could lie about having been a fish."

Jack would have said something else, but the Elder put his hand up for silence. "His story was odd, but whether it was true or not, I do not doubt that he came from the Sea. He saved I know not how many children, so we should do what we can for him, and since he is dead, all we can do is return him to it. Three should do this. Who will go?"

Pouchsnooper predictably volunteered, along with two of the younger hunters. Jack watched the proceedings with a bored expression until Sandy took his arm and pulled him away.

The returned to the river downstream from the village. "I did as they said," Sandy explained. "I followed them to the Sea and kept animals at bay, but you can use your powers to get us to there in less then a day."

Jack grinned at this prospect, but cocked his head to the side. "Wait... why don't you make something out of Dreamsand? We can be there in minutes."

But Sandy shook his head. "I can't. Not yet."

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yes." Sandy clapped his hands together with an eager smile. "Now, what will you make this time?"

Jack shrugged. "I liked the dog. I guess I'll just make him again."

"But... you did that already..." Sandy looked oddly disappointed, his eyes wide and sad.

Jack was surprised by this reaction, but he thought back to those nights he spent chasing Sandy around the world. Every time the Sandman had needed transport he made something different, almost like it was a game...

Cracking a toothy grin, Jack said, "Alrighty then. What do you suggest?"

Sandy smiled and fell into deep thought for about two seconds before announcing, "A giant flying sea turtle."

Jack's eyes bugged and he laughed nervously. "I don't think I can do flying without the Wind's help. Sorry Sandy."

Undeterred, Sandy waved him off and went back to thinking.

Jack pondered the possibilities as well. "How about a polar bear?"

"If you wish to be obvious..." Sandy teased good naturedly.

"Ouch!" He clutched his chest in mock hurt.

Sandy ignored him and started spouting his thought process out loud: "A whale? No... too big... A dinosaur with a saddle... Hmm... An Alicorn? Definitely not." ...and so on.

Once he realized what Sandy was doing, Jack was impressed. He had been dragged away from a macabre scene and a deeply troubling series of events, only to be enticed into exactly the sort of silly game he loved. And it was working! Although his amusement couldn't completely drown out his stress, he certainly felt much better.

The question was, did Sandy know he was doing it or not?

"A house on bird legs! No, no... Do not like Baba Yaga."

...Probably.

Jack thought about it seriously this time. Anything ice themed would be dismissed, so... the opposite? Well, they were in Africa; any of the local wildlife would work, but Sandy seemed to be after something more bazaar then usual.

"Wait," Jack interrupted. "I've got one."

Smirking, he slammed his staff down and willed his frost towards the river. The water was fresh, so the formation of his Frostling was easier and he could focus more on details. Individual snowyflaky feathers, designs on the harness, and filigree in the wood-like ice...

When he was done, he had created a large ostrich hitched to a Roman style chariot.

Sandy wore an expression of pure joy. "I love it!"

It was nice to be on the move again, even if it was by an unconventional means. Jack discovered he could keep his Frostling from melting by giving it the occasional blast of power, and this, coupled with the bird's superior speed, got them to their destination in a matter of hours.

The sun was setting when they pulled up on the beach. As expected, the hunters arrived at the same time, dragging a large bundle wrapped in grass and leaves behind them.

The two Spirits watched silently as together they lifted their package and waded into the water. They went up to their chests before giving it a push and letting go. It was quickly swallowed by the waves. The men said nothing while they swam back to shore, nor when they wandered away from the beach to make camp.

Sandy finally broke the silence. "There," he said. He was looking towards the northeast. Now that the sun had set, an eerie and familiar yellow light could be seen on the horizon.

Jack finally understood; they were returning to Sandy's island. Without saying a word, he urged the ostrich out onto the Sea.

He could feel the tension rising the closer they got to the island. He didn't know what was going to happen when they got there, but he did know that if it was anything bad, there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

Sandy, who had been enjoying the salty breeze, noticed this and said, "You can relax. I am only going to fall asleep for a little while."

Jack sighed and leaned his arms on the front of the chariot. "Thanks," he said with a small smile.

They were almost there. As they reached the island Sandy had Jack stop on the shore.

Everything was dead. Except for the light that shone from its center, the once vibrant isle was a lifeless grey, and there must have been a fire at some point because the only things to break up the monotony of the sand were a scattering of burned and rotten logs. Nothing had ever grown back.

"I would like to walk from here," Sandy said vacantly. He stepped down from the chariot and as soon as his feet touched the ground, the sand beneath them began to glow. A sporadic whirl of gold spread from where he stood, as well as from each step he took after that, until he was leaving an ever widening trail up the beach. Some of the sand was even rising off the ground in mist-like eddies.

Jack dismissed his Frostling, which startled him by bursting into a flurry of snow. He froze, embarrassed, the snowflakes gathering on his shoulders and head, but Sandy barely spared him a glance. He brushed himself off and followed his friend.

Neither of them spoke as they approached the glowing heart of the isle. It was the crater, of course, alive with a hurricane of Dreamsand. It was pulsating like a beating heart, but it gradually faded as Sandy got closer and by the time he reached the crater there was nothing left but shadows. Sandy turned and looked back the way he came. The trail he had been leaving was almost gone. Soon only a ten foot circle remained spread around him.

He stepped into the crater, but nothing happened. He stared up at the moon with pleading eyes. At last he sighed and laid down, curled up, mashed his eyes shut, and slowly, very slowly fell asleep.

The moment it happened, Jack had to jump out of the way, because the crater engulfed the sleeping Spirit and erupted in gold. The light spread rapidly, covering the entire island and even dissolving the dead logs into sand. Once the whole area was Dreamsand it began to shift like the stirrings of a waking beast. It morphed and stretched until it resembled a galaxy, with coiling arms stretched into the Sea.

Once this metamorphosis was complete, the movement did not cease. The isle had become a living, ever shifting place.

Sandy didn't wake up.

Jack tried digging him up with no luck, and would have settled for waiting patiently if the stars hadn't begun to go out. "Come on Sandy! What're you doing?!" he demanded. Even the moon winked out. The waves stopped lapping at the newly jagged shore. There was no longer a world beyond the little island.

He was beginning to panic, but he sat down cross-legged, slapped his hands on his knees, and forced himself to remain calm. "It'll be fine. Sandy won't leave you hanging, and he said he'd only be asleep a little while."

Of course Sandy had also said years meant nothing to him, and had proven himself perfectly capable of lying. "He wouldn't lie to you like that."

He took a deep breath and let it out. With calm, came boredom, and with nothing to alleviate that boredom, he starred to nod off.

Something was too bright, even though Jack's eyes were shut. He squinted and then opened them slowly.

The moon was back!

Not only that, but the Man in the Moon was casting a powerful beam of light on the spot where Sandy had been gobbled up by the crater. Jack nearly wept from relief.

The Moonbeam grew in density as it peeled Dreamsand away in layers.

It's trying to wake Sandy up, Jack thought. He watched, enraptured as solid light patiently fought with living sand in order to cut a massive hole in the island. This new pit grew bigger and deeper until Sandy was fully exposed at the bottom of it.

Sandy refused to be awoken. He curled into a tighter ball, scrunched his eyes shut, and threw an arm out.

"Whoa!" Jack stared up in awe as a thousand foot pillar of sand pushed the Moonbeam back and then toppled, turning to a fine mist that filled the night.

Sandy rolled over and pulled his Dreamsand over himself like a giant, grainy blanket.

But the Man in the Moon was determined. He sent his light back down to Earth, more gently this time. It touched the surface of the living island and shimmered in quick patterns. He was trying to talk to the very sand.

Jack couldn't hear any of what was being said, but he figured it worked when the Dreamsand began to rise and spin, forming into another one of those hurricanes. It spun more rapidly then he had ever seen, and at its heart he could make out the silhouette of a person. The whirlwind grew smaller as the body grew denser and brighter, brighter, too bright to look at directly.

Jack was nearly blinded and had to shield his eyes. When the spots faded and he was sure the light was gone, he cautiously peered over his arm.

His jaw dropped.

There was the same Sandy who slumbered beneath the island, only his skin was pale and smooth, almost like porcelain, or... or compressed sandstone! The gold swirls on his right shoulder looked less like scares on skin, and more like they were chiseled into rock. He even wore replicas of his furs that were made out of Dreamsand.

Jack should have seen this coming, really. As crazy a notion as it was, it also made a scary sort of sense.

Sandy was a dream...

None can wake a Sandman who does not wish to be woken.