-23-

"Sweet Dreams"

My mother Rose looked deep in thought - which, indeed she was.

"What troubles you, my mother?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," she said at first; but not a moment passed before she reversed course and told us her true mind: "It's just that, you told Constantine that he would go wherever it was that he wanted to go, once he died," and this she directed at my sister Death.

"Yeah, that's right," Death agreed.

"And Hell is in The Dreaming?"

"Yup. Exactly."

"Is Heaven in The Dreaming as well?"

"Sure. And so is The Nothing - and oblivion, which, funny enough, is not even remotely the same thing. It all depends on what you believe."

"So after the Reality Storm. The shift - whatever you want to call it - all those people basically died."

"They didn't 'basically' die - they very much DID die. I picked them up and drove them to their afterlife myself."

"So then explain to me what you two did for Rachel," said my mother Rose.

"First, please tell us the rest of what happened from your point of view, Rose," said Death. "And then I'll try to clarify any confusing parts. How does that sound?"

Rose Walker nodded. "Okay."

I could feel my sister Death thinking: besides, that's not really the question that Rose is asking.

My sister was right: Rose wasn't actually contemplating Rachel's fate at all.

She was thinking of my father's.

"Okay, so we were in Rachel's nightmare," my mother Rose began, "except this time, nobody was asleep; instead of us travelling into The Dreaming, Rachel had brought The Dreaming to us."

"Not the true Dreaming," I clarified for her, and for the benefit of the other listeners. "With the Dreamsand, she had created a pocket-dimension of Nightmare within Reality, separate from the true Dreaming."

"Right," said Rose. "But whether it was the 'true' one or not, it was very real for us...

-Rose Walker's Tale-

I found Rachel on a park bench, underneath a tree. It was the same kind of park where I'd met my mother. Rachel was watching the kids play, with a kind of unhappy, sour expression.

She looked nice, though - in the sense that she wasn't all zombified and gross here, in this dream world. She looked exactly the way I remembered her, before she disappeared: sexy, sassy, and looking for trouble.

"Hi Rose," she said to me, without looking at me. She had on fashionable sunglasses that I knew would have cost a fortune in Reality - she probably really had a pair, but I doubt that she acquired by just simply handing over her hard-earned dollars. "Take a seat."

I did. She looked beat - like she sometimes did with a hangover, after a night of partying. "What are we doing here, Rachel?" I asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing."

"Don't be like that, Rachel. You're the one that took off without saying goodbye, or letting me know that you were alright."

"Because you cared so damn much about me, right?"

"Enough that I didn't want you to be suffering some kind of horrible abuse, or be rotting in a ditch somewhere dead without anybody knowing, yeah," I snapped. I was really starting to get pissed off at this point. "Turns out, you really were rotting - but you weren't dead, and nobody was doing it to you. It figures, really: you always were your own worst enemy."

Rachel turned her sunglasses toward me, her dark red lips pursed. "And you didn't waste any time pouncing on my leftovers. How long did it take you to ring him up, huh? A day, an hour after I disappeared? Or did you wait a little longer, just to make sure I wasn't coming back?"

"Oh that's rich," I said. "You stole his shit and left him high and dry without a word, just like you did with me. And by the way, not like it matters, but the only reason I got in touch with Constantine was to get his help in trying to find you. I did it for YOU, you ungrateful bitch."

"Wow, thanks a ton Rosalita! You shouldn't have."

"OBVIOUSLY."

Rachel smiled grimly, and made a snorting laugh. "You're hopelessly naive, Rose. It's really pathetic."

"What are you talking about?"

"People just do stuff for you, and allow you to believe whatever it is that you want to believe. It's… what would Paul call it… enabling?"

"And just what is it I believe that is so wrong, in your estimation?"

"They let you live in a fantasy world, Rosalita. So that you can go around all doe-eyed, like a helpless, innocent little ingenue, just assuming that everyone else will protect you out of the goodness of their hearts… like you live in some kind of goddamn Disney movie. Wake the fuck up, Rose - we don't live in that kind of world."

"That's not true. I don't want to be pure and innocent - you KNOW that. It's why I hung out with you, and why we were friends - because I wanted to be more like you."

"Oh sure, you wanted to flirt around with the idea of being a 'bad' girl - doing a little bit of this, and a tiny bit of that, dancing around in your tight pants like fucking Sandra Dee at the end of 'Grease'. But really, you were just a good little girl playing dress-up. You didn't REALLY want to go all the way - and you wanted to believe everybody else was a goddamn saint at heart, too."

"Who exactly are you referring to?"

"Paul, for instance. Everybody knew that he was gay, and was just using you as his beard - everybody except you, that is. And Wanda? She may think she's female, but I say she's a horndog who thinks with her weenie, just like all the rest of 'em."

"You can shut up about Wanda! You don't even know what you're talking about - she's a better friend than you EVER were!"

"...And now it's John. You really think he's following you around out of CHIVALRY? Because it's the 'right thing to do?' Please, spare me - he's a guy, and he's a BASTARD. He doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself.

Oh, he'll help you alright: he'll step out of the shadows, all trenchcoat and cigarettes and arrogance, ready to deal with the madness - and if it takes the last drop of YOUR blood, he'll drive your demons away. But once he's done kicking them in the balls, and spitting on 'em while they're down, he'll give you a nod, a wink and a wisecrack, and then he'll be gone - back into the darkness, alone.

Because who the hell would be crazy enough to walk that path with him?"

"Sounds to me like you're still in love with him," I told her, "so I'm guessing the answer to that rhetorical question is 'you'?"

Rachel turned away sharply, grinding her teeth together. "Shut up, Rose."

"Aw, you're blushing! I didn't know you could still do that - being the wise, worldly, mature hoe that you are."

"You'll never learn, Rose," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "You'll never know how good you have it, 'til somebody takes it away from you." And then she grabbed something out of her purse: the Pouch of Dreamsand.

"Rachel, give that to me."

Rachel held it far from my grasp, grinning. "Oh Rosalita, you don't really want this stuff - it's bad for you, and it's not for kids."

Rachel grabbed a bit of sand, and cast it outward, into the wind.

It landed on the grass, and caught fire.

The fire grew and spread faster than any real fire ever could, roaring toward the playing children with a vengeance.

I stood up - and suddenly I spotted my little brother Jed was amongst them.

"JED!" I yelled.

He turned toward me, wide-eyed. "Rose?"

And then the flames leapt onto the children - including Jed. The children screamed horribly as their clothes and hair caught fire - but not Jed. He walked toward me, calmly, like he didn't even realize he was burning.

I was too horrified to scream.

He reached out to me, his skin bubbling as it roasted away. "Rose…" he said with charred lips. I ran to grab him, hoping to somehow put out the flames that were eating him alive. He fell forward into my arms, burning and searing me - I might as well have been embracing a hot lump of coal. And that became rather literal a moment later, when he crumbled into blackened chunks.

With nothing left of my little brother, except for the white-hot ash sifting through my fingers and blowing away, I stood there reeling in shock - until I saw my mother Unity standing before me, surrounded by flames.

Even though my ribcage was wracked with sobs, I forced out a cry. "MOM!"

"Don't let her get away," she said, as the flames climbed higher, forming a wall around her.

I could no longer see her - the heat and the glow of the fire, combined with my tears, took away all ability for me to see clearly.

I turned around, and wiped my stinging eyes just enough to see Rachel, rising from the park bench to stare at me impassively.

I ran toward her.

But as I did, the ground sank beneath my feet - she watched from up above, as I sank rapidly into darkness.

I could feel reality shift around me.

I was in water. In the middle of a vast ocean, at night, under a roiling grey sky that thundered and cracked with lightning. The waves churned around me, and I bobbed up and down in the foam like a stupid buoy, getting sprayed and slapped around by the salty seawater. Rain pelted me as well. Water everywhere. As I gasped, it felt like I was taking into my lungs more water than air.

A voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, taunting: "IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHTMARE…" the voice said, followed by a laugh like a freakin' hyena.

A particularly towering wave curled over me, and crashed down on top of me with the force of falling bricks.

It pushed me down under the waves, and I went tumbling and flailing along the rushing current like a helpless rag doll.

Except that a rag doll would float - I was sinking like a rock.

I grasped toward the surface, kicking, but it was no use. The surface was getting further and further away up above me, until I could barely see the pale glowing pulses of the flashing lightning.

This is bullshit, I thought. I can't allow this. This is a dream, and I'm a dream Vortex - time to get lucid, and make this dream my bitch.

Which one would win, I wondered? Dream-SAND, or Dream-STONE?

I did a very superhero-y thing with my fists, bringing them down to my side with all the force I could muster, and thought of my body being propelled forward by an emerging volcano.

I could feel the vibrations as the volcano rumbled out of the depths, expelling lava cooled rapidly by the cold ocean waters. The newborn volcanic rock reached me, giving me a surface to stand on with my foot; it continued to grow from underneath, rocketing me toward the surface.

The surface above me stopped undulating, and clouded over.

I realized what was happening, and thankfully had the quick thinking to raise one of my fists above my head.

My fist broke through the thick layer of ice.

Looking about from the perch of my obsidian spire, I could see that this was not the endless ocean that I was in before - this was a frozen lake, surrounded by white tundra, and ringed by snow-capped mountains.

"You can't hide from me, Rachel!" I called out, my voice echoing across the empty valley.

The ground began to shake violently - and then, the mountains shrugged off their snowy mantles.

The snow-clouds raced toward me. I ran out toward the open tundra, but I wasn't fast enough - the avalanche caught up to me, hurling snow and rocks over me.

I was buried, packed in the snow.

I could hear footsteps crunching overhead. Rachel. I was sure of it. Probably trying to check and see if I was dead.

Well, I wasn't dead - it was just a little hard to move. And it was cold.

But I was hot.

So hot I could melt this snow into a puddle.

I felt the snow liquefy and loosen around me. Enough that I was able to punch through-

-and grab an ankle. I heard a surprised shriek through the snow, as she struggled to pull away - but in actuality, she was just helping me to get up and out.

I crawled to my feet, covered in snow - I'm sure I must have looked like a powdered donut, or the abominable snowman, as I stood over her.

She was dressed in a fur parka, and she was sobbing, mascara running all over the place. "You're ruining my dream!" she cried.

I outstretched my hand. "Give it back."

Rachel made an ugly sneer. "Of course… everyone wants it… but you can't have it! It's mine!"

"No it's not," I told her, calmly but firmly.

"He sent you, didn't he? He wants it back…"

"Who, Dream? You know about him?"

"JOHN!" she blurted out. "He… he wants to give it to YOU, doesn't he?"

"No, he needs… I need to give the Pouch back to its original owner. The King of Dreams."

Rachel seemed disoriented then, confused, eyelids fluttering - it was like she was losing her mind right in front of me, and the deterioration was ramping up. "Always the hero," she laughed. "Always, always, always… and I'm just the stupid junkie whore, is that right?! Maybe that's why he never did any magic for me… why he could never really love me..."

I knelt down beside her. "Please," I said. "John wouldn't want you to be like this."

Rachel laid all the way back onto the snow, beating her fists against the ground, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. Like a tantrum-throwing kid. It was startling, only because you don't expect a grown-ass woman to be throwing such a classic toddler-style fit.

But I pitied her more than I feared her antics at this point. Our magical duel was over. She was finished.

I put my hand underneath her neck, and pulled her up. She flopped limply against my shoulder, still crying. "It's time to wake up, Rachel," I whispered, as I held her close.

Then, without warning, I was back in her room.

And I was sitting on her bedside, cradling a really nasty-smelling, naked, and gross-looking Rachel against me.

I shivered with revulsion, and very slowly let her down onto the bed.

"Rose..." she croaked, "Rose-a-lita… it hurts…"

On the other side of the bed stood John, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed for a moment, but then he twitched and startled awake, blinking. Then he startled once again as he saw Rachel, like he'd forgotten what a terrible shape she was in. "Strewth!" he swore. "What d'ya think you're doin' Rose? You really havin' a cuddle with a corpse, that stinks of shit?"

Morpheus slid into the room, silent as a shadow. "Where is the Pouch?" he intoned.

"Yeh me ex is alright, thanks fer askin'," quipped John, who was still sweating and pale, fumbling to light yet another cigarette because of his agitated trembling. "Little thinner than I generally like, all skin an' bones an' whatnot - I prefer that skin ta be ON the bone rather than off it, if yeh catch me drift."

"I see," Morpheus mused, looking over Rachel with crossed arms and a critical eye. "Her metabolism is destroyed; the sand was the only thing keeping her alive." He turned to me. "Have you secured my Pouch of Dreamsand?" he inquired.

I sighed, and reached back behind myself to grab it from the nightstand. "Yeah, it's right-" I stopped short, because it WASN'T right there.

Just a fine sprinkling of sand was left across the surface… and in the place of the Pouch, there was a letter.

I froze in place, confused, as Dream picked it up instead. "It is from The Corinthian. We are too late." Dream proceeded to glide out of the room.

"Yeh can't leave 'er like this," said John, quietly, as he gazed down at Rachel. I was about to say that very same thing, but I was surprised that he'd beaten me to the punch.

Morpheus paused. "Why not? She will die soon… painfully, I would imagine."

John Constantine whirled on him, gripping the bedpost knob tightly. "I SAID YOU CAN'T BLOODY LEAVE HER LIKE THIS!" he yelled, desperate.

Watching John, I felt certain that Rachel was wrong - he wasn't acting like a man who didn't care about her. It was ripping him up inside that she was going through this hell.

Morpheus regarded him for a moment, inscrutably, then looked to Rachel."Very well, Constantine. Go outside."

"But wot-" his protest began, but Morpheus then fixed him with a hard look. John shrugged resignedly, exhaling and nodding. "Yeh. Yeh, all right. Trade secrets, an' all that - don't need ta know how the magic is done." He glanced briefly back at Rachel, before he made his exit out the door. "Sweet dreams, luv."

Dream scraped the sand off the nightstand with the letter, and into the palm of his hand.

He stood over Rachel, and dropped the sand down onto her face.

Her groaning and her expression of pain faded away, and she relaxed. I would swear I could see a contented smile on her face… before she breathed her last breath.

"There," said Morpheus. "It is done."

And then he walked out of the room, without another word.

"So… what happened right then?" asked my mother Rose. "What did Morpheus do?"

My sister Death smiled. "Okay, now that we're all caught up, I'll tell you: my brother gave Rachel a really nice dream…

-Death's Tale-

I walked alongside Rachel, through the sunny park. She was watching the golden sunset, and it was reminding her of a song - "See the sun set in the hand of man…" she sang.

"That's really good," I said. "Your voice is beautiful. You a singer?"

"A poet," she replied. "But yeah, I was starting to get into the music scene. Because who buys poetry these days? But honestly I was starting to feel like that was going to turn out to be a bust, too - all anyone REALLY cares about is a nice head of hair , and a decent set of tits." She blinked and frowned. "Sorry, I don't… who are you?"

"We've met once before," I told her, "But it was a long time ago, when you were really little. You wouldn't remember."

"Oh," she said, still looking confused. "Where are we going?"

"Well, that's up to you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Death."

Rachel stopped, aghast. "And you've come to collect me?"

"I'm not really into collecting anything - least of all people, or their souls. That belongs to each of them. All the ones camped out in and around my house are there voluntarily. I'm more of a… let's just say I'm a taxicab driver for inter-world travel, even though I don't charge any fare. Or own a cab."

"So that's it? That's all I got?"

"You lived what anybody gets, Rachel: you got a lifetime. No more, no less."

"Then I'm…"

"Uh-huh. As a dodo."

"Not yet, my sister."

I looked and saw my antisocial brother, lurking about in the shadows like always.

"Hold on a sec," I told Rachel, as I approached my brother Dream. "Heya, Dream. What did you mean about her not being dead?"

"Her body is being kept artificially alive by the sand."

"Which is now gone. She's dead, Dream. I kinda know these things."

"A boon has been requested of me, which I have chosen to grant before she is to pass on."

I sighed. "That's overstepping your bounds a little, baby bro - but I'll forgive you. Especially since you're doing it for a good cause - and also because, after this, I need you to do ME a favor-"

"The squatters in the sunless lands."

"Bingo."

"I shall return to the derelict realm as soon as I am able."

"You better get it sorted out soon - I'm running out of ways to keep them occupied. They were a rude bunch to start with, and they get even worse when they're bored - they're itching for some torture and some X-rated fun, and I'm just not equipped to accomodate that sort of thing."

"The situation will be remedied before long - you have my word on that, sister."

I watched as Rachel forgot all about me, and found her way to the park bench in the sunset, underneath the willow tree.

And then someone stepped out from behind Morpheus' tall, lanky frame.

"Constantine?" I asked. John didn't look at me, and I don't think he heard me either.

"In a manner of speaking."

Dream began to fade away like a puff of smoke.

Constantine looked alarmed. "HEY! HANG ON! WAIT A MINUTE! ...Please?"

"...Yes?" asked my brother, pausing his partial fade-out.

John shifted uncomfortably. "Well I… I don't like to ask for favors. If they don't owe ME something… I mean, I don't want to be in anyone's debt…"

"What are you asking, John Constantine?"

"It's just… th'last ten years. Ever since Newcastle… I've been 'aving these nightmares… BAD ones. Most nights. And… I wondered if you could…?" Constantine made a vague gesture, leaving my brother to fill in the blanks.

"I understand. Very well."

Constantine relaxed, gratefully. "Thanks."

Dream faded away completely. Constantine sighed, and turned to face Rachel.

"Ah-one, an' ah-two, an' ah-three, an' ah'four…" he murmured under his breath as he walked toward her; and then, he sang: "Mister Sandman… Bring me a dream… Make her the cutest that I've ever seen… Give her the word, that I'm not a rover… Then tell me that my lonesome life is over…"

Rachel lit up with joy when she saw him. "John," she said, breathlessly.

"Hullo, luv. 'S been a long time."

She put her arms around him, and they embraced. "Did you miss me, then?" she asked.

"Nah."

Rachel pulled away. "Bastard. Love you."

He put an arm around her. "I know."

Together, they walked into that bright, golden sunset, into the best of all possible worlds.

They didn't even need me to guide them. Some people don't.

I smiled. I was happy for them.

"So the John she got to have," began my mother Rose, trying to untangle her confusion, "He was fake. Right?"

My sister Death shook her head. "Oh no, he was real all right."

"What I mean is, he was just imaginary. Part of her dream."

"Yes. And it was also John, himself. For real."

"But John was outside the room when this was going on - he didn't walk off into the sunset and die with Rachel, he was still with us afterwards. So that means he was like my brother Jed when Rachel made me see him burning - an illusion."

"Dreams are not illusions, mother," I told her.

"Explain that to me. Because I'm not following."

Death took a breath and tried her best. "Okay, so there's the John you know, right? In the flesh. But that's not the only aspect of John Constantine there is out there. Everybody's got a different John that they know in Reality, and everybody's got a different John in their head."

"ThaT's ReaLLy aN aWFuL loT oF JoHnS, SisTeR," commented Delirium, who had apparently awoken from her nap. "ToO MaNy, i thiNk… it'S greeDy aNd stOOOpiD foR hiM tO haVe sO maNy aNd i ThinK hE reaLLy onLY NeeDs juSt oNe maYbe beCauSe iT's noT liKe he'S suPer imPoRtanT oR anYthiNg…"

"Delirium, be nice," gently scolded my sister Death.

"WhY sHouLd i haVe tO bE niCe tO hIM? He waS'nT niCe to mE fiRst! i hEaRd wHaT hE saiD aBouT mE eVeN beFoRe yoU toLd eVeRyoNe aGaiN juSt noW anD iT maDe mE noT liKe hiM aT aLL. i DoN't liKe pEoPLe wHo aRe mEAn tO mE aNd beSideS wHaT i waS saYiNg waS moRe aBouT uM… UM oH YeAh THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS. ThaT's wHaT i waS mEAniNg bY thaT. ABouT hiM noT beiNg iMpORtanT, noT hiM noT beiNg meAN… whiCh i DO mEAn, beCauSe hE iSn'T - noT MeaN, i MEaN."

"Will somebody shut up that kid's running yapper?" complained Mervyn. "My pumpkinhead's about ta explode into freakin' PUREE jus' tryin' to suss out that jibber-jabber a'hers!"

"Just imagine if she chose to incorporate the antiquated third definition of the word 'mean' into her sentences," proposed Lucien.

"Wha? What would that be?"

"As in 'mean' intelligence," answered Lucien, dry as a bone.

Mervyn Pumpkinhead grinned with wicked pride. "Hey - if yer tryin' to do a dig at me, then yer gonna have to do better than ta point out that my smarts ain't made of the kinder and gentler stuff! That goes without sayin' - I use my brains for whatever I want! An' if people don't like it, then I say: tough shit! Sticks and stones ain't gonna break MY sticks and stones, pal!"

My mother Rose was holding her temples, looking like she had a headache of her own. "So what you're saying is that Rachel left with HER version of John."

"Yes," said Death. "Exactly."

"And he went into the afterlife with her."

"Mm-hmm."

"So what was that about Morpheus taking his nightmares away?"

"Oh, that… well, as you're seeing right now, it's kinda hard to explain to somebody that they aren't the only them that exists. Rachel's John wasn't going to be troubled by any more nightmares where he was going - but he was a close enough match to the one remaining in your Reality that he could speak on his behalf. Does that make sense?"

"No," said my mother, flatly. Then she thought for a few moments. "So when I dream of Morpheus…"

Death nodded. "That's him, Rose," she said. "That's your Morpheus - the one he was for you. It's not a fake, or a figment... he's real. He's really visiting you, from the far reaches of The Dreaming."

My mother did not speak for many moments, contemplating the full import of my sister's words.

"Wow," she said at last. "That's… kinda creepy, actually." She thought even more, and became disturbed. "I hope I haven't said or done anything weird when I've been with him, in my dreams."

"That's impossible, Rose," said Death. "My brother really wasn't that judgmental - you saw for yourself, when you were in full-on Vortex mode, how being able to look inside people's subconscious puts a whole new spin on your perspective."

"Your subconscious is who you are," I explained. "Whatever it is that exists there is right, in the sense that it's the truth; and unlike your conscious mind, it is not capable of deception."

There was, as far as my many guests were concerned, an uncomfortably long silence that ensued.

"So anyway," continued my mother, pushing her ruminations aside to be processed at a later time, "We'd lost the Pouch of Dreamsand to The Corinthian. At first, we thought this meant we were back at square one, with no leads we could pursue in order to find the other missing tools that were taken from Dream... but as it so happened, one of them was right under our noses, in a very smelly and unwashed trenchcoat…