Disclaimer: CLAMP owns the whole lot; you know it to be true.
Just a Dream
Tomoyo is dreaming again.
She knows she's dreaming because she's outdoors and in her pyjamas. Daidouji Tomoyo never wears her pyjamas outside: pyjamas are for sleeping.
And now, apparently, for dreaming.
She's standing in front of a hedge. It could be cypress or it could be lilly-pilly, Tomoyo doesn't know, she's never paid attention to anything other than flowers. Whatever it is it's tall and dense and dark and green, an old world forest trapped in a wall. But unlike a forest it's completely tame, each twig and leaf maintains the line like a well-trained platoon of soldiers, marching off to her left and marching off to her right.
They've broken step, however, and left a neat little gap, something to step through and get lost in.
Sunlight has completely saturated her hair, so much so that her scalp breaks out with itches. Tomoyo turns to look behind her. Grassland ripples all the way to a smudge of mountains on the horizon. There's nothing out there.
Surely it would make sense to get out of the sun.
Tomoyo steps through the entrance.
The hedge is obviously is apart of a maze. Hedges and mazes go together like tables and chairs, salt and pepper, cookies and cream; you just can't have one without the other.
Tomoyo knows how to deal with mazes, you just keep your left hand on the left wall at all times and follow it around, it's simple logic. But then this is a dream, so maybe logic doesn't apply? But then this is Tomoyo, and logic and common sense always apply.
The leaves tickle her palm as she twists and turns her way through. The hedges have grown to an amazing height and the sunlight can do nothing but splash the very tops. The ground is just a drift of shadow and dried leaves and gravel that doesn't even crunch as Tomoyo pads along.
Just when she thinks that the left had of logic had been defeated by the nature of dreams, that she is completely lost, she takes a turn and lurches into sunlight.
She rubs her eyes against the glare, thinking that she's just gone in one tangled up circle and arrived right back where she started. But it's the opposite; she's arrived at her destination, the centre of the maze.
The hedge to her left loops wide to meet the hedge at her right, guarding a lawn that, unlike that which encircles it, has never seen a blade at all. Dandelions speckle the overgrown grass with abandon, their fluffy heads poised to tell the time.
And in the centre is a statue.
To Tomoyo there was always something sad about statues. They would stand so still while people milled all around them, unnoticed even though they were in plain sight. It must be a lonely existence, to be a statue, so Tomoyo made a point to always say hello.
She picks her way across the clearing, each step sending dandelion seeds spiralling into the sky. As she gets closer she sees that the statue is of a boy. He stands straight on a pedestal as tall as her. A robe flows from his shoulders to pool at his feet; he holds a staff that is crowned with a blazing sun, while on his head is the most ridiculous floppy hat. With a smirk she drops her eyes to his face.
And stumbles with recognition.
It's Hiiragizawa Eriol.
Hiiragizawa Eriol, the transfer student only arrived last week from England. Hiiragizawa Eriol, the boy who watches Sakura-chan with such a kind look in his eyes. Hiiragizawa Eriol, the boy who seems to enjoy making Li-kun wild with jealousy. Hiiragizawa Eriol, the boy who sits behind her in class.
That Hiiragizawa Eriol.
How odd that he would have a statue in her dream.
Tomoyo reaches the base; the plinth ends just at eye height, so she has to crane her head backwards. Hiiragizawa Eriol has been cast in concrete. Tomoyo can't say that she approves of this, concrete is too sullen and grey for someone as quick and elusive as Hiiragizawa Eriol.
Tomoyo looks down to read the inscription. There is always an inscription.
"THIS IS NOT A STATUE"
The sun hides behind a cloud and the voice falls on her like rain.
"It's not going to work. It's not going to work. It's not going to work…"
Tomoyo's head snaps back up. Within that grainy concrete face the lips are moving.
"I shouldn't have done it. It's not going to work. It's not going to work," Hiiragizawa mutters over and over again.
This doesn't sound too good.
Tomoyo reaches up a hand to tug uselessly at a robe made of stone. "Excuse me," she calls with concern, "but are you okay?"
He doesn't seem to hear her. "It's not going to work. I shouldn't have done it. It's not going to work."
"I'm sorry," Tomoyo tries again, increasing the volume. "Do you need any help?"
Hiiragizawa Eriol continues his mantra and Tomoyo feels her heart quicken to keep time. Thunder adds a menacing counterpoint; the once blue sky is now sodden with inky clouds, their underbellies gleaming green.
Tomoyo tries to remain calm and focuses on the more important things. "What's not going to work, Hiiragizawa-kun?"
"Everything. Nothing." She relaxes a little, at least he's responding. But then his next words are so quiet that she has to strain on tiptoes to hear. "It's useless."
Something slices across Tomoyo's cheek. Her hand shoots up in reflex and comes away red. Large chunks of ice are falling from the sky, their jagged edges sharp as any knife. Tomoyo winces as a particularly large piece shatters against Hiiragizawa's ridiculous hat.
Tomoyo's had enough. This may be just a dream and he may be made of rock but he could still get hurt. Or more hurt than he already is.
She leaps upwards. Tomoyo's no athlete but concern gives her enough strength to scramble onto the plinth. One shard of ice crashes into her shoulder causing her to slip. She holds on and slowly gets to her feet while the hail cascades down, shredding cotton pyjamas and bruising skin.
Tomoyo faces Hiiragizawa.
He isn't speaking anymore so it would be easy to dismiss him as a statue again. She's close enough to see the individual pebbles that line his cheek, the individual chips of quartz. Ice has been crushed into the back of his collar; she reaches around behind his neck to brush it away.
The glasses on his face are concrete and so the lenses are concrete too; see-through concrete doesn't exist, not even in dreams. Momentarily defeated, and with nothing else to do, she runs a finger along the frame. Cracks blossom from her touch and crumble the concrete to powder, sending it flying into the wind.
Blue eyes look out from a stone grey face. "It's hopeless," he tells her.
A large piece of hail screams to a halt above them, shattering the sun-staff. Concrete and hail rain down upon her but she doesn't notice.
She smiles. "It can't be that bad."
"It is. It will be." The hail intensifies and Tomoyo uses her arms to shield him from the worst of it. "I should have accepted my fate."
"Hiiragizawa…"
"I'm going to end up alone."
"You won't be alone."
"Yes I will."
"No, you won't," she insists. "Because I'm here, Eriol."
And the storm stops.
Tomoyo blinks around with bewilderment as the clouds scuttle away and the sun flourishes back in. Immediately, ice begins to melt revealing undamaged hedges and dandelions. Even her pyjamas have been restored from their tattered state.
"You've been hurt." A hand reaches up and runs a thumb along her cheek, wiping away the wound. "There. All better now."
Tomoyo turns back to the statue; only he's not a statue now. Hiiragizawa Eriol is standing before her in the flesh, not in concrete anymore. Like her pyjamas, his robes are intact and his staff has regained that pointy sun; he still has that ridiculous hat too. She notices that she's still got her arms wrapped around him and she drops them awkwardly to her sides.
Eriol gives her a clear and steady gaze. "You're not suppose to be here, you know."
What a thing to say after she's just saved him from annihilation by freak weather. "Not suppose to be here?" Her reply is defensive. "But this is my dream, Eriol." His name is out before she can stop it and once she's said it she realizes that she likes saying it. She's going to keep saying his name because like she said, it's her dream: anything is possible in dreams.
What does it matter anyway? He's only a figment of her imagination, just a product of her sleeping mind; he's a Dream-Eriol.
If he's noticed her slip then he's too polite to mention it. "No," he says. "This is my dream." But not too polite to disagree.
"No, it's mine."
Eriol smiles with surrender. "Okay. Maybe it's our dream. And if it is, we should make it something special." He leaps lightly off the plinth and lifts up a hand to help her down. "Shouldn't we, Tomoyo?"
Oh yes, anything is possible in dreams.
She really shouldn't be here.
They're walking through grassland, blades and daisies swishing against their knees. The maze that had surrounded them had shrunk to only ankle height; it had been easy just to hop and skip over the whole labyrinth.
Eriol watches her out of the corner of his eye. Quick glimpses only: if he stares for too long she might disappear. But then if he doesn't look at all how does he know if she is still there.
"It's curious how you managed to get here," he says. And it is curious: this is his dream. Actually, it was meant to be his nightmare, but she came and changed all that.
"Perhaps I wanted to be here." Tomoyo smiles and adds, "Eriol." She doesn't realize that it is actually he, the boy who sits behind her in class. She still thinks that he's just a part or her dream; she wouldn't be so free with his first name, otherwise.
"Perhaps, Tomoyo." That has to be it. It can't be the opposite, can it? He can't have wanted her here, in his dream.
Impossible.
Then she got in here on her own, by accident. He'll have to keep her around, for the moment, so he can find out how she did it.
So that he can make sure that it never happens again.
Perhaps…
"So, transport." It's a comment that comes out of the blue and Tomoyo looks at him with curiosity.
"Transport?"
"Yes, transport: a way of getting from A to B." He draws an invisible line in the air from invisible A to invisible B. "I'm sure you're familiar with it."
Tomoyo gestures at the empty plain. "I just think that we're not going to find anything all the way out here."
"Then we're just going to have to imagine something ourselves," Eriol answers knowingly.
"Imagine?"
"Yes, imagine: to form an image in one's mind." He turns to her with exasperation. "What am I, Tomoyo, a dictionary?
"Sorry," she says and looks away.
Eriol is instantly contrite. "Nothing to apologise for. I should have made myself clearer." He takes her hand and she looks back again. "What I want you to do is think of some transport for us."
"Like a bus?" she wonders.
Eriol falls to the ground, dragging her with him. He knows that he's acting over the top but he just doesn't care. He has to be upbeat. He has to be happy. She has to enjoy his company.
She's only here because she wants to be.
Right?
"Nothing so mundane, Tomoyo!" he wails into the sky.
She picks a daisy near his ear and bops him gently on the nose. "So you want me to 'dream up' something." She looks at him shyly as she sits up. "Can it be anything?"
"Yes, Tomoyo."
"You really mean anything? Even if it is the most silliest, the most outrageous, the most unlikely, the most impossible thing, uh… possible," she finishes lamely.
"Nothing is impossible in dreams, Tomoyo."
He can't stop saying her name. He puts it down to an old, and therefore powerful, magic trick; say someone's name to keep them close.
But she seems to enjoy hearing it, and he does enjoy saying it.
Eriol can tell that she's thinking: she's got her hand to her cheek and head tilted to one side; that's what she looks like in class.
"Okay," she says with accomplishment and picks another daisy.
Eriol props himself up on an elbow. "So?"
"So what?"
"Where is it?"
"I've imagined it."
"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?"
"You'll see, Eriol," and smiles mysteriously. So that's what it feels like, Eriol thinks to himself.
Defeated, he slumps back onto the ground and tucks his hands behind his head. The sound of Tomoyo humming winds its way through the grass and filters into his ears. He can't remember his dreams being this peaceful, if they've ever been at all.
He becomes aware of another sound, one that travels through the ground bypasses his eardrums and reverberates into his brain. It's the sound of footsteps carrying something big and heavy.
And it's coming closer.
"Tomoyo…" he trails off into silence when an errant moon eclipses the sun. The moon starts to fall towards Eriol, getting bigger and bigger, dragged to Earth by a long stalk. Large yellow eyes with reptilian pupils blink out of the moon's face, and teeth as long as Eriol's arms grin out of a smile that can swallow him whole.
"Tomoyo," Eriol finds his voice. A snort mists his glasses and sends his fringe dancing. "Is that a dinosaur?"
"It's a Brontosaurus. Okay, Apatosaurus actually," Tomoyo explains, "But I always preferred Brontosaurus."
"What's it doing here?"
"It's our ride."
"Ride?" Eriol drags his eyes away from the gleaming teeth and notices that strapped on top of the dinosaur's head, like some sort of hat, is a park bench. Eriol stares at Tomoyo with disbelief. "This is what you imagined?"
"You did say 'anything'," she pointed out.
"Yes, but I was expecting, I don't know, flying horses or firebirds, not," he turns back to the dinosaur, "scary things."
Tomoyo rolls her eyes and gets to her feet. She gently pushes the dinosaur out of the way and pulls Eriol up. "Please," she scoffs, "they're vegetarian. Now are we going or not?"
He realizes that she's serious. "Oh no. I'm not riding that thing."
"Suit yourself." She scrambles up and over the dinosaur's eye and perches on the bench. "Last chance," she calls down.
Two pairs of eyes, tinged with disappointment, stare at Eriol, one butter yellow and the other royal purple. Her eyes are purple; he's never noticed that before.
"Fine," Eriol huffs and clambers after her. He's only doing this to find out how she got here, that's the only reason why he's sticking around. As he sits down she gives him a smile of delight and settles herself against him.
He's not quite so sure of his motives anymore.
The dinosaur lifts its neck and sends them soaring into the sky. Eriol's ears pop and his stomach heads towards his shoes but he doesn't notice that.
He does notice Tomoyo's shout of laughter and how she twines her fingers with is.
They set of across the grassland and soon meet up with a whole herd of brontosauruses – or is that brontosauri? – Their flanks are speckled with crimson snowflakes and the ends of their tails flutter in the air like ribbons. But he doesn't notice that.
He does notice that Tomoyo's eyelashes are like sable brushes dipped in charcoal, and that her hair is the colour of twilight and that it runs through his fingers like silk.
A flock of flying horses makes an appearance, but they're the size of sparrows so they were never going to be a suitable ride. Eriol doesn't notice them as they buzz close by and steal his floppy hat.
But he does notice that Tomoyo lunges after it and snatches it back, placing it in her lap for safe keeping.
And when the sun dips towards the horizon, chaperoned by three crescent moons, he doesn't notice the astronomical anomaly at all.
He does, however, notice that the lilac in the sky, the shade where the blue of evening and the blush of sunset collide, is a much better match for her eyes; better than royal purple anyway.
And he notices how she takes an interest in anything and everything.
And he notices how she smiles at the dinosaurs and the giant butterflies and the flying sparrow-sized horses, even when they're stealing his hat.
And he notices that when she smiles at him he can't help smiling too.
And Eriol realizes that it's he who's keeping her here, it was he who wanted her here in the first place. He wanted someone to chase away the nightmares and give him sweet dreams instead.
She is more than he could have ever imagined, more than he could have ever dreamed.
He doesn't want it to end.
He can keep her here. He knows he can. It would be easy: he is after all a formidable sorcerer, perhaps the most powerful in the world. He could arrange it that she stays here forever, that she'd never wake up, she'd stay here in dreams.
With him.
Tomoyo spots him staring at her and she quirks up an eyebrow in a question.
But you can't stay in dreams forever, no matter how wondrous they are.
He leans close to her ear and whispers, "We have to wake up now, Tomoyo."
And their time together is just a dream.
FIN