This Dream HE Had
by "Matrix Refugee"
Author's Note: The idea for this fic came to me when I was listening to the radio, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's choral arrangement of Pachelbel's Canon in D came on. Some of the words jumped out at me ((Correct me if I heard them wrong)):
"This night
We pray
Our lives
Still show
This dream
He had
Each child
Still knows"
I'm not sure if this was the intent of whoever wrote those lyrics, but I felt that the "He" spoken of is Jesus Christ, Whose birth is the reason for this season (or the most important reason, anyway), and Who, as man and as God, dreamed of a world where man could be free of his weakness and learn to be able to live in harmony with his fellow man, as a preparation for a fuller life in union with his Creator. Of course the fact that the word "dream" was used made the "Sandman" fan in my nature prick up its ears, which got me thinking about the Endless... The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the existential aspects embodied in each of the Endless all played a part in Christ's life and work.
This fic is likely to spark some contraversy, but that's what happens when someone dares to talk about the Big Things, like faith and redemption. I ask only that you read this with an open heart. I am a devout Catholic Christian as well as a "Sandman" fan: I hope I don't sound like a religious nut, but like a small tree trying to bear fruit of the spirit.
Disclaimer: The "Sandman" characters are the property of Neil Gaiman, of the artists who collaborated with him, or DC Comics, et al. Jesus Christ belongs to Himself, and His message belongs to all who reverence it. ((Sorry, I just had to say that: I'm only giving credit where credit is due, after all, and I thought I'd cover all bases.))
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It did not look like an auspicious moment: a young woman, hardly more than a girl, heavy with child, travelling this distance to fulfill her obligation to the census-takers. Her spouse guided her through the streets of the village, jammed with travellers like themselves. The overcrowded carvansari could offer her no shelter against the early winter chill setting in as night drew on. And so they were obliged to seek shelter among the caves in the surrounding hills, where the local farmers and sheep herders sometimes penned their livestock.
Maryam's time had come: Yossef, her spouse, did his best to make her comfortable on the musty straw on the floor of one cave, before he hurried to the village to seek out the local midwife. Maryam attended to her own needs as best she could in the circumstances: she had helped with the birthing of her neighbors' children in Na'zareth, and she had recently assisted her kinswoman Elzabeth at the birth of her son Yohana'an.
Time seemed to slow down to a stop. The stars in the small patch of night sky visible in the doorway seemed to glow brighter. She felt an intense heat and warmth within her, but she did not feel the pains that usually attended a woman's labor. Light seemed to envelope her being, and she could not tell for certain if she stepped into the presence of the All Mighty Himself to bring the child into the world, or if the All Mighty brought the child through her being without disturbing a particle of it. But when she came down from her ecstasy, she lay on the straw, holding the Child in her arms, wrapped in the linen bands she had woven and brought with her. Yossef knelt beside her, the midwife and her young assistant already bustling about her, attending to her and to the Child.
No one could see them, but Maryam sensed the presence of others in their midst, beings who gathered around the maiden-mother and her singular Child, seven aspects attendant upon the life He had chosen.
The first, a tall figure in a hooded robe, raised blind eyes from a book he read, a book bound to his wrist with a chain. "This Child is destined for the fall and the rise of many; He shall be a sign that will inspire and perplex the world He has entered. A scandal to some, an inspiration to many."
The second, a small female clad in black garments, touched the Egyptian sigil of life, hanging on a cord about her neck. She knew that one day, she would come for this Child, when He had offered his life as a blood-sacrifice of ransom for His creatures, so that their souls might no longer die the death of sin.
The third, a tall male wrapped in a black cloak held in place with a ruby, knew that this Child was the Fulfillment of man's true dreams of peace, and of the Creator's dream of love for His creatures, a nightmare to some who kept their hearts selfishly closed, or for those who misconstrued its message, but a source of guidance and consolation for many.
The fourth, a tall, bearded male clad in armor, folded his hands on the pommel of his sword as he knelt before the Child; he knew this Child would bring abrupt change to this world. Empires would rise and fall, man would rise against man because they did not heed nor understand His message, but some would seek to complete the task He set forth, bringing about change in their world.
The fifth, a slender figure at once male and female, gazed on the child with golden eyes narrowed in puzzlement. This Child Who was more than a child would desire the love of His creatures and continue to love them even when they rejected His love, as a rejected suitor might love the lady who scorned him.
The sixth, a squat female, fingered the hooked ring on her left index finger, knowing this Child would one day set a foot within her realm, but that He would leave it as he offered His life so that man might no longer despair of consolation.
The seventh, a childlike female with eyes of mismatched hues, knew His word of simplicity would be considered madness for those grown too wise and too worldly for the good of their spirits.
Voices could be heard approaching, the voices of the sheep-herders of the locale, softened with awe. Already, men were stepping beyond their dry lives into the dream of peace.
The seven beings, known as the Endless to those who dared to believe in such things, took this as their cue to withdraw, except for the third, the Dream-Lord, who lingered, watching as the shepherds entered the cave-stable and found that the vision on the hills, the message of the angels, had been made real even in their midst.
Dream hovered on a knoll above the cave, watching over the mortals gathered around their God in human form. He gazed up into the night sky, at the stars which astrologers and wise men watched, seeking portents of their world's destiny. He reached into the pouch hanging at his belt and drew from it a handful of dust; he compacted the handful in his palm and cast it into the sky, where it formed a new star that would hang there as a sign to those who looked, a mere stellar phenomenon for those who did not.