It's ten to five in the morning and I've just finished this one. Sorry it's shoddy and sorry it took so long, I've been a tad busy, and have lacked motivation and inspiration when I've had a free moment.

Least it's up. Enjoy!

Dream, n
- a succession of images, thoughts or emotions passing through the mind during sleep

If at any point during the night, you looked up at the sky, you would perhaps only see the moon, stars, and a flock of birds that silhouette across those silver lined clouds. Hear the wind whistle through the trees, and nocturnal animals skittering about under the cover of dark.

If at any point in the night, you looked up at the sky, you would think everything was quite commonplace.

You wouldn't see the streams of golden sand descending from the heavens, seeping through the panes of glass and into childrens' rooms, twisting above their heads and forming shapes, images, pictures that moved. It was magic, in its purest and simplest form.

And the maker of this magic, the Sandman, sat atop a cloud of gold, looking down at the world and his work and seeing the millions of sleeping faces below in their calmest moments. His magic worked best with children, created the hopes and aspirations they strove to achieve in their later life, but he was also conscious of the older generations. The ones who needed a little happy dream to push them forward. One such girl caught his eye.

She couldn't have been older than seventeen, hunched over her desk, lamp on and eyes sore. The wooden desk before her was scattered with text books, notes and shreds of paper with things hastily scribbled down upon them. High School was getting harder, the workload was getting ridiculous, and the stress she was under was making her feel anxious and stressed.

Sandy knew she'd been like this every night for the past three weeks, stressing out over finals and half writing her assignments before deciding they weren't good enough and screwing them up. The waste paper basket was overflowing, and balled up half finished essays were littering the floor around it. Before tonight, he'd sent her to sleep at her desk, but Sandy was becoming more worried about her state of health. Her back and neck would start to suffer if she was left hunched over the desk again, her sleep would be broken and she would feel more anxious and stressed than she did now because of her exhaustion. He'd have to find a way to coax her into bed, and he couldn't think of any other way to do it than to go and try to communicate what he needed her to do.

Floating down, quiet as ever, he looked through her window. She was writing something down hastily as if the idea would leave her if she stopped. He watched for a moment before he conjured a small sliver of golden sand in his hands, and sent it through her open window, watching as it curled in the air like a ribbon, floating over slowly to where she sat before twisting around the lamp before it turned off.

Her head shot up, her hand reached out, and she switched the lamp on again. Sandy wondered if she could see the sand, being a teen and not a child, and for a second she turned her head away from the golden trail back to her papers. Then she stopped, and slowly she looked back, her eyes wide and hazy, as if she was remembering something from a long time ago and it was just she sight of the sand that triggered her flashback. Then even more slowly, she turned to face her window, her bloodshot blue eyes fixing on Sandy before her pen slipped from her fingers and clattered against the wood, and her body stretched out, lifting up from her chair and her feet carried her over almost automatically.

They stared at one another, and all Sandy had to do was smile slightly and point to the bed in the corner to tell her where to go. She nodded, her blue eyes never leaving him as she tread backwards through the piles of dirty and clean laundry on her floor, only stopping when the backs of her knees hit the bed frame and she sat down upon her mattress. He waited a moment, watched her lie down, before sending another stream of sand through. In seconds it danced above her head, her eyes closed and her breathing calm as she dropped into sudden deep sleep, her body limp, her mind at ease.

She was dreaming about passing her exams, the smile upon her miniature golden selves face was so bright and gleeful that it made Sandy smile too.

As he went away, he thought to himself – the Guardians were there to protect children, to help the younger generations out. It was an unwritten rule that when children stopped believing the Guardians would stop helping them as much because it was the belief in the younger ones that kept them alive and it was vital to invest in keeping that belief going as much as possible.

But it couldn't hurt if every now and then he sent a little dream sand wayward, especially if the girl was so stressed out, and especially if she saw him too. That meant she would believe again.

It would all work out.