I've been staring at that propechy in the comic for awhile—here's an idea I had about what might happen to Toby in the coming comics.
I might repost this to my journal, just so I can get my formatting back.
Prompt: "Night Wind"
In the spaces between dreams, are we truly alive?
He had been sleeping for longer than he could remember. He often wondered if he had ever been awake at all—all he had were the endless dreams, the brief periods of deep, empty sleep, and then once in a great while, he felt himself near consciousness, almost aware. He tried sometimes to remember if there was anything more to his existence than just eternal sleep and constant dreams, but he never could pinpoint anything in the slivers of memories he sifted through his mind. The only information he could be sure of were his half lucid dreams.
Most often in his dreams, certain faces appeared over and over again. The most common one was that of a woman. Her face was never too clear, but he intuitively knew it was one woman. She had long dark hair, and most often her eyes were often hidden behind a pair of glasses.
What are you hiding from?
Another face he often saw was a man's pale faces, eyes full of mockery. Whether the mockery was at him or at himself, he wished he could ask. But when the man's face was looking away from him, he could see a glimmer of loneliness, or what he guessed was loneliness.
Is existence so painful you must hide from the ones you want to be near?
The other faces and figures that came to him in his dreams were both ghoulish and comforting. They smiled, laughed, and cried, reaching for him desperately. And he wished he could reach back; these faces came to him in the times he swore he was nearly awake. There were no names he could find to attach to them, but as he drifted from dream to dream, he would grasp at their images in his mind like broken glass.
Or are you too afraid to even to know what you really want?
One face however, one that he had only seen once, stayed with him since the first time he had seen it. It was another female face, but unlike all the others, this face was painfully clear, sharp and distinct. Pale hair and dark hair, but the eyes, green eyes, green as all good growing things, they bore into his soul. She looked so sad, and for a moment, he felt that she must have been as lonely as he.
It's scary. But I want to be near you.
Do you know my name?
I want to be with you.
I'm waiting.
