Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: Sleep brings dreams. Dreams aren't real. Sasuke wouldn't be tempted by something that would never be real. So he wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't dream. Speculations on why Sasuke can't sleep.
Dreams
Sasuke stumbled tiredly through the streets, wishing that he were in his large, soft bed with his warm sheets and—'NO!'
He snapped himself out of his fantasy and saw an outdoors diner stall near by. He could get some coffee and that would help wake him up a little. Enough for a light, dreamless doze, at least.
He plopped himself onto a stool and motioned for the waitress to come over, "One black coffee." She blushed and nodded, bringing back a steaming cup of coffee and a bagel, giving him a wink as well.
Sasuke ignored the wink and sipped at the liquid, 'Ugh. It tastes horrible! But it'll stop sleep and—'
He refused to think of such things. Because it made him tired. And tiredness brings sleep. Sleep brings dreams. He didn't want to dream. He didn't want the wishes that he had pushed so far into the back of his mind that he could almost convince himself they weren't there…he didn't want those wishes to come out. Like they would in his dreams. He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that maybe being an avenger wouldn't bring him happiness, that that was only a goal. He didn't want to acknowledge that he was weak enough to be tempted by something that could never exist.
'I am an avenger. I live to kill Itachi… that is my wish.'
But there was something else he wished for even more.
When Sasuke slept, when he fell into a sleep just deep enough to dream but not deep enough for his mind to snow over, his wishes became free. He dreamed. 'I want to dream of seeing Itachi's mangled form lying prostrate before me. I want to see myself carve his eyes out so he can never use them again. Then I want to see him being paraded around Konoha. Look at what the infamous Itachi has become now…'
But he didn't see that. In life…in his Sharingan he saw only black and white with splashes of red. His Sharingan saw what he wanted to be his dream. Like an artfully made movie. A morbid one. Black lies…deceit. White truths…honesty. Red blood…murder. Everything crystal cut. Avenger.
'That's what I want! That will bring me happiness! That is what my dream will be!'
But that wasn't his dream, it was his goal. So he didn't dream of bloodied sharingan or bloodied teal.
In dreams he saw white. Shining muted colors and white lights and angels. He knew it was an angel because his mother was dead, and the only place for a soul that pure was heaven. She was an angel. He saw his family sitting together for a picnic on a grassy knoll that was now occupied every day by Shikamaru, who watched the clouds float by.
He saw them laughing and eating and enjoying life. Even his father. His father was smiling at him and his eyes held what Sasuke had strived for ever since he saw his father gaze upon Itachi with it…love, pride.
That was why he had idolized Itachi so much. If he could gain their father's love, his pride, then Sasuke, by following the same path, could gain it as well.
Shisui was lounging some meters away and Itachi was holding Sasuke as if nothing was wrong…his eyes were the teal color of their mother's, just as it had been before attaining the Sharingan, which he had taken to using almost all the time.
"Sasuke, let's go play catch. If you win, I'll teach you another jutsu," Sasuke's eyes shone with happiness and he quickly nodded, scrambling up so he could learn a new jutsu and maybe impress father.
His mother called both of them back to finish their food and Sasuke, taken off guard by her voice, was pounced on by Shisui, who tickled him and made him drop the little red ball he had been playing with.
"Hey! That's cheating!"
Itachi laughed and ruffle his hair, "I promise I'll teach it to you anyways."
Sasuke grinned with happiness and flounced over to sit in his mother's lap, preening in all the attention she gave to him and snuggled into her warm embrace.
"We'll always be together, Sasuke. We'll always be a family." Sasuke nodded sleepily and hugged his mother's arms.
There was no more red or black in his dreams, just white and soft blended colors. The harsh colors of reality belonged to his fantasies and goals. He was scared he'd loose the will to fight if he dreamed too much. The will to kill. Sasuke wouldn't be haunted by what he knew he couldn't have. He wouldn't dream of it or think of it. He wouldn't see it or speak it or hear it or dream it or think it or dream it…because it'd never be real.
And so he finished his cup of coffee and his bagel and walked back home. He took off his sandals and walked to his parents' bedroom and curled up at the foot of their bed on the hard, wood floor. He hugged her shawl to him and his hitai-ate and fell into a light slumber for his nightly forty winks. He rested. And he didn't dream.
Because sleeping leads to dreams. Rest doesn't.
Images of dissecting Itachi and torturing him came to mind. He felt the glee that would follow an especially painful cry. He didn't dream anything, he saw his goal. His goal was to see Itachi. His dream was to have a family. But—
'Dreams are for the weak.'
A/N: Um, it didn't quite turn out how I wanted it to. I see a lot of fics out there on how he only dreamed of revenge or the deaths of his family, and I wanted to take a different approach. Here, his dreams are when he truly wants, and his goals (killing Itachi) are what he believes he wants. Seeing Itachi dead in his sleep isn't counted as his 'dream'. He dreams when he sleeps and he sees his goals when he rests.
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