https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdzSQIejRQM

The Dreamer stirred, coming to on the edge of the universe. The string hung loosely around his wrist, a constant reminder of where he was, never letting him forget. The wound had finally healed, where it had rubbed raw from his exertions, his attempts to escape it. No matter how frail the string looked and felt, it was far stronger than him. There was no escape, he'd tried countless times to free himself. But, was he truly trapped? Even after all this time, the Dreamer found it hard to believe. Was it all in his head? Wasn't like he'd believe that, even if it was.

If he was trapped, he had to be somewhere, right? He couldn't be dead, if he was trapped. Or, perhaps, that was pure fallacy. Many cultures spoke of places like Hell and Purgatory- the first being an infernal prison meant to trap those who come up short on judgement day, and the latter a place forever in between. Maybe that's where he was. It was possible, he supposed, but not probable.

Maybe death itself was a snare, a net, a trap waiting to snap shut until he put just the right amount of pressure on just the right spot. Then it would take him from the world, much as it would any other mouse who dared try to outsmart the wooden and metal workings of the contraption, hoping to get a nibble of the cheese within.

Perhaps the Dreamer yet lived. He couldn't be sure, one way or the other. How could he? The ever-changing world of waking nightmares that surrounded him, that had enveloped him, had taken its toll. It had worn on him for what seemed like an eternity, his sanity having fled long ago, leaving pure, primal instincts in its place. Survival. That was all that remained. He had to survive.

With that in mind, the Dreamer sat up, legs dangling from the edge of the world, the place he'd chosen to rest. There was little danger in doing so. Whatever was chasing him was far behind, he'd made sure of it before his body had collapsed from exhaustion. And he'd long since learned that dying in this nightmare wouldn't wake him. In truth, he didn't believe that he could die in that place. He could be hurt. He had been hurt. But, despite the various nightmares he'd faced, and no matter how poorly he had defended himself from such things, he always got back up. The wounds always healed, and he always remained trapped. He doubted a little tumble off the edge of the world's edge would be any different.

Turning to survey his surroundings, the Dreamer noted the blooming tree behind him. Curiouser and curiouser. The tree had been barren only hours before. Strange, to say the least, but not uncommon in that place... whatever that place was.

Unbeknownst to the Dreamer, his prison was always changing, clay in the hands of the living, of those who shaped the Mortal Realm with their hands by day and the Dreamscape by night. Unfortunately, he only knew one world- the Dreamscape. The Mortal Realm had been forgotten long ago and left behind with memories of a life lost to him.

The Dreamer pushed himself to his feet, the string dragging on the ground close behind. The purpose of the string was unknown to him, but it had always been there, following the Dreamer each step of the way no matter where he went. Perhaps it was what tied him to that place, the not-so-metaphorical chain that bound him. But, if that was the chain, where was the ball? Maybe he was the ball, and he was being used to hold something else in place- whatever was on the other end? Unlikely, he decided. The Dreamer had once tried to follow the string, to retrace his steps, but it led him in circles, eventually leading back to him. The irony of that wasn't lost on him, considering the previous thought about balls and chains.

Allowing his thoughts to fade, the Dreamer dragged the weight of the world behind him as he moved down the slope and toward whatever awaited at the bottom. Unlike Atlas, he had tired of carrying it on his shoulders, and instead let it trail behind him tugging at his wrist.

There was a certain confidence in his step, but it didn't show in his eyes, void of life. The Dreamer had once been happy, he knew that much, but wasn't sure what had caused that happiness, what had brought about such joy. But, he could remember the faint feeling, the sensation, of smiling.

The Dreamer moved slowly, defeated, into the treeline at the bottom of the slope, ignoring or not caring to take in the glowing eyes that hid themselves among the strange, warped trees that created that nightmarish forest. What could they do that hadn't been done to him already? They weren't the true Nightmare. No, it hadn't caught up to him. Yet.

Glowing, predatory eyes watched the Dreamer, the unkempt and unwashed man they had been tracking for days. His hair had grown long, well past his shoulders, and his beard had gone unshaven for... he wasn't sure how long. He'd stopped counting the days long ago. There was no sun in that place, so, time was strange... difficult to measure. Only the moon lit the sky, and it did a poor job of it, he thought. Couldn't it shine just a little brighter?

The Dreamer's eyes widened as he remembered. "No, no, no," he complained as he turned and sprinted back toward the slope, his long legs carrying him quickly to his destination. The tall, lanky husk of a man clambered up the slope in a timely manner, just in time to grab the rope as it slipped free of the knot he'd tied before resting.

Wrapping the rope around his other wrist, leaving the string unmoved, the Dreamer yanked at the rope and planted his feet firmly on the ground. The balloon-like Moon resisted, trying to pull away and float off into the night. He'd long since believed that it had a mind of its own, that the Moon was sentient, but he couldn't let it go. He needed it.

The Dreamer pulled harder, turning and letting the rope rest on his shoulder as he marched in the opposite direction. It was heavy... heavier than anything he could have imagined before coming to that place, but he'd become accustomed to the struggle. After spending so long in the Dreamscape, he knew the rules, how to work things to his advantage. There was little he couldn't get away with, if he kept his head clear. Which was... much easier said than done.

After a few minutes of struggling, the Moon gave in, letting the Dreamer win. It knew it couldn't escape, as long as he was near. It had tried on countless occasions, always failing. Resigned to its fate, the Moon gave in, defeated. Feeling the slack, the Dreamer turned to look at the rock in the sky.

"Not much longer," the man said, pulling the rope down and tying it around his waist. "I promise," he lied. There was a certain resolve in his tone, something that spoke volumes. But, it wasn't resolve to give the moon its freedom. That much was certain. Light was important in the Dreamscape, and the source of the light even more so. The moon was a solid source. He wouldn't set it free, until he found another- one that could outshine the moon, itself. Once again- easier said than done.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Go4YMAws6BU

The Dreamer heard the pitter patter of rain on the canopy above and the fallen leaves below, before he felt it on his skin, on his face as he looked up into the sudden onset of a storm. A tempest brewing above as he studied the night sky. A bad omen. But were there any good omens in that place? None that he could recall.

Storms were different in the Dreamscape. They weren't predictable, and they were never the same as the last. Sometimes there was rain and sometimes snow... but, other times, fire and brimstone or even small animals fell from the sky. It was best to avoid being caught in the open, if given the chance to take shelter. Which is exactly what the Dreamer did. During his extended stay, there were few constants that he could rely on. Most things changed on a whim, much like how a dream shifts. Whose whim, he was unsure, but things changed nonetheless. However, there were a few secrets, safe havens that could be found if one searched hard enough.

The Dreamer referred to these havens as Constants. No matter what area of the Dreamscape he was in, there was always a safe place hidden among the dangers, usually taking the shape of some kind of light source. A light to combat the ever encroaching darkness. A Constant, offering constant protection to those traversing the wilds of the Dreamscape. Despite the moniker, they were temporary. At least for him. Constants always diminished after being used by the Dreamer, in his attempts to eke out an existence in the danger-riddled wilderness that he had called home for quite some time. The loss of a Constant was what had forced him to move into the forest. The tree on the slope had offered protection but for a short time, its light fading as it shed its pedals or leaves. He couldn't remember what they were. The source of the light had faded, along with his memory of it. On the other hand, the Moon wasn't a constant. It was a source of light, but it wasn't a protective source. It was simply there, for him to see by.

Could one ever really think of the Dreamscape as their home? A home was meant to be cherished by the inhabitants. A home was meant to offer protection and a sense of security to those who lived there. Neither of which were true in his prison, which he had yet to give a name. The closest he'd come was Hell or Purgatory, but he'd never been the religious type, so those names had come and gone on several occasions.

The Dreamer ran through the nightmarish forest as the rain picked up, or fell down rather. The light drizzle had turned into a downpour in a matter of seconds, and a flash flood in minutes. He ran, splashing through the rising puddles that were quickly turning into streams and even rivers in the lowest and clearest parts of the forest. The Moon followed close behind, the rope seeming to pass through the branches above much like a ghost through walls. The wet String clung to his wrist as he ran, temporarily forgotten as he searched and searched for a Constant where he could weather the storm.

The Dreamer stumbled into a clearing where a dim light shone through the sheets of rain. The force of the rain seemed to have a mind of its own, trying to drive him to ground rather than to safety, but the Dreamer persisted. He ran through the water which had risen up to his knees by that point. Sloshing through the wet, the Dreamer fought for his life, moving ever closer to the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. The closer he got, the brighter the light. It was a Constant, he was certain.

A sudden influx of rainwater, and a slippery rock beneath the surface sent the Dreamer sprawling into the hip-deep pool of water below. Crashing through the water, he slammed into the ground and cut his forehead on a large stone- the impact freeing it from its earthy confines.

The Dreamer fought and struggled, splashed and kicked, until he was able to get his feet beneath him and his head above the water. Now it was up to his chest and continually rising at a dangerous rate. Giving up on running, the Dreamer swam toward the light, fighting the current as it tried to drag him under again. He could feel the gentle pull of the Moon where he had it tied to his waist, as well, noting that it had not even tried to help when he was drowning just a few seconds ago. Which was to be expected, given their relationship, he supposed. 'Self-important, ungrateful rock,' he thought furiously at it.

In the Dreamscape, hard work rarely paid off. The more you struggled, the further you were dragged into its depths. The Dreamer knew as much, and attempted to calm himself, to even out his breathing. He surged forward with a renewed vigor, trusting in his own ability to survive, rather than the overwhelming force of cowardice that drove him toward the Constant and away from the fear of the storm, of the Nightmare and the death it would bring. A death that would finally release him from his solitary confinement, but one that he couldn't will himself to accept.

The Constant drew near, or he drew near to it. Either could be true, he decided. It was a tree, like the last, but different. Large bulbous lights rested among its branches... a light in the darkness. He had never feared the dark, but only a fool would not fear the creatures that lurked within.

The Dreamer, finally reaching the proverbial shores of the lighthouse, climbed up onto its massive roots. He pulled himself out of the water, which had risen well above where his feet could've touched the ground. It was likely twice his height in depth at that point.

Stepping carefully, he found a couple solid footholds and slipped his hand in between the bark of the Constant, gripping it tight. There wasn't much room to stand, and there certainly wasn't enough room to sit and rest, but it was enough to survive- to weather at least one more storm.

The Dreamer watched as the tempest raged around him, ravaging the nightmarish wood, but kept at bay by what he assumed to be the protective aura of the Constant. The wind whipped at his hair and what was left of his ragged clothes, but the pounding rain and glowing eyes peering at him from the shadows were kept at a safe distance.

It was going to be a long night. But, he supposed that was as true then as it had been when he'd first entered the Dreamscape. It was always night, so, of course it was a long one.

The Dreamer stood there for what seemed like days, maybe even weeks, until the storm finally calmed and the rain let up, transitioning into a light drizzle once more. Time was strange in the Dreamscape. Sometimes it passed quickly, faster than one could imagine, but at other times it dragged on. An hour could stretch into two or three, while a year could stretch into a decade. It was something that, even after all of the time he'd spent trapped there, he had not become accustomed to.

In reality, time in the Dreamscape was dictated by its inhabitants. The other dreamers. But, he was left unaware of the truth, of the intricately designed dynamics of the world he now lived in. His not-so-new, unwanted home. But, despite all of its terrifying and unappreciated qualities, boredom was not a nuisance in the Dreamscape. He never felt like he had to go looking or hoping for something exciting to happen.

Unfortunately, the Dreamscape, or at least the portion he had traveled through, viewed excitement in a much darker way than he did. Technically, fear was excitement, like how technically, nightmares were dreams.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:48, Tue 23 Aug 2022.

By the time the storm had calmed enough for the Dreamer to step back out into the world, to risk leaving the Constant behind, the gash on his forehead had healed. There was a scar, but the wound was gone. He was exhausted and hungry- not peckish, but ravenous.

The rules of the Dreamscape were different for each of its visitors. Some did not have to eat, sleep or drink, while some could fly or teleport and others were invincible. But him? He was vulnerable to the whims of the wilds. His empty stomach let out a vicious growl as he hopped down off of the roots to the ground below, the ocean of rainwater having vanished. It was absorbed by the earth as well as the thirsty roots of the dying Constant, the bulbous lights resting atop its branches growing dimmer by the second.

The Dreamer moved toward the base of the roots. There were well-hidden secrets among the safe havens, the protective islands in the sea of dangers that was the Dreamscape. They were difficult to find, impossible really, unless one knew where to look. After being, potentially, the only long-term inhabitant of that hellscape for quite some time, the Dreamer was privy to its secrets. He had heard the whispers of the winds and the cries of the horrors that lived there. If one knew how to Listen, to truly Listen and block out all else, there was something to learn from the place. One could live off of the land, off of the Constants, if they Listened and learned how.

Knowing as much, the Dreamer vigorously dug into the soil that held the roots, fueled by his hunger and his wish to move on, to find shelter elsewhere. After several minutes of raking long, nimble fingers through the mud, he found what he was looking for. The Dreamer gently detached them from the roots and held them in his hands. Looking up at the lights, then back to the miniatures in his hands, he smiled. The light source, whatever it was, it was edible. It was a source of power, of sustenance. The Constants were powered by magic, or some other force of nature, maybe even the thoughts and dreams of those who visited. Ingesting such a raw, powerful source could sustain him for a time.

The Dreamer was unaware of the details, but he knew how to survive and to keep the hunger at bay. So, he took the glowing, bulbous growths in his hands and left the hole he had dug behind in search of water. Though most of the rainwater was gone, some had collected in the lower parts of the clearing. Kneeling by one of the puddles, he washed the mud off of his food, and then popped one into his mouth. There was no need to chew or suck on it, which was clear as it dissolved. Closing his eyes, he devoured another, driving the hunger away. The magic in the orb flowed through his form, filling him with energy.

Once finished, the Dreamer rose to his feet once more, and took stock of his surroundings. He quickly noted the change in scenery, the lighting of the world dimming to a sinister red. Not good... He'd witnessed the change before, the bleeding of the Creature on the world around him. It was close. He'd wasted too much time waiting out the storm.

The Dreamer dropped the last of the bulbs and moved quickly toward the edge of the clearing, the opposite side from where he'd entered during his mad dash through the tempest. Caught off guard by a bright light, he skidded to a halt several feet before the treeline. Squinting, and raising a hand to fend off the blinding light, he got a good look at the source.

A white stag stood stock still, watching the Dreamer. The skittish creature took a few steps back, watching and hoofing the ground, before turning and moving quickly away through the trees. It left him behind, as he stood there attempting to rub the spots out of his eyes, to no avail.

"Wait!" he called after the stag, hoping to halt its retreat. "Please! I won't-" he started, begging. He wouldn't hurt it... he wouldn't. The stag didn't look back, rather, it kept moving until it was out of sight.

The Dreamer looked up to the Moon, still tethered to his waist. "You weren't any help," he complained, before turning and giving chase, dashing through the crimson forest and racing after the stag without abandon. It was rare to spot an animal in the Dreamscape that wasn't actively trying to make a meal of him, and he sure as hell wasn't letting it get away so easily!

The Dreamer-turned-tracker moved swiftly through the forest, nimbly traversing the rough terrain. He jumped over a root here or ducked under a branch there, in pursuit of the white stag. It had a good lead on him, but he followed its tracks. There were few animals he couldn't track in the Dreamscape, after having been forced to hunt and feed on them when absolutely necessary. They weren't nearly as filling as the bulbs he had taken from the Constant.

After running for a long while, he finally approached the edge of the forest. The Dreamer slowed his advance as he saw that same blinding light a short ways ahead of him. He crouched and moved cautiously through the forest. He avoided stepping on fallen leaves or dead branches and stuck to the rain-softened earth to avoid spooking the stag again.

The Dreamer approached the stag, which appeared to be resting, laying down on the bare ground just outside the treeline. But, as he moved closer, he noticed something... the stag was stained red.

Eyes wide, the Dreamer ran to the wounded animal and collapsed by its side. "No, you're okay," he said frantically. "You're okay, you have to be," he added, one tear rolling down his cheek, catching on his wild beard.

It was important. The stag was important, he knew it was. He could feel it, but he could also feel its life slipping away, its light dimming much like the Constant had when the rain died down. Was the stag a living, breathing Constant? Not for much longer, if he didn't do something. But, there was nothing he could do. He wasn't a healer or a doctor.

The Dreamer rested his head gently on the stag, closing his eyes. He could hear a faint heartbeat in its chest, slowing by the second. Setting his jaw, he sat up. Raising the stag's head, he rested it on his lap and stroked it gently in its last moments, humming a tune from a past life to calm the beast.

As it took its last breath, the stag shuddered one last time and went still. The magnificent light emanating from the creature faded, dulling as it passed from the world. The Dreamer ignored the world around him. The encroaching crimson hue and the blurry, menacing figure watching from the forest went unnoticed as he wept for the stag. Something he would forever remember in a world where everything was lost, forgotten. The loss of something so pure couldn't be brushed off so easily.

The Dreamer rested his head in his hands, sobbing, not caring how desperate and vulnerable he appeared to be. He was desperate for someone or something to help him weather the void, to fight off the ever building depression that accompanied solitary confinement. Meanwhile, the Creature waited, watching the lone prisoner and letting his solitude sink in. It hoped the wounds on the man's psyche would fester, driving him closer to it and away from thoughts of escape, of freedom.

The Creature and the Dreamer, the Dreamer and the Creature... Perhaps they were one and the same, both very different physical manifestations of the same being? No, that couldn't be it, though the thought had crossed the Dreamer's mind long ago- that maybe they were twisted, hideous reflections of one another. Possible, but not plausible. He could never bring himself to believe that it, the Creature, was anything more than a ravenous beast. It destroyed everything in its path to get to him, to wreak havoc on everything he held dear, so how could he view it in a different light?

The Dreamer stared with unblinking eyes at his blood-stained hands. He could think of no beast so vile as the Creature, that would risk defiling such a beautiful thing, to drive its light from that wretched land. The Dreamer's gaze trailed from his hand to the stag's wound, and then to the blood on the ground. His eyes followed the trail of blood to the crimson forest, to the monstrosity that lurked there. It watched him, waiting for him to break. "Why?" he asked the Creature, his voice weighed down with the emotions raging within. It did not answer, but only stared with its crimson eyes, watching... waiting. It wasn't the first form the beast had taken, but it was by far the largest, the ugliest. It was fitting for such a vile monstrosity, he thought.

Was it a game the Creature played, finding joy in how it tormented him so with such dedication? It must have driven itself mad, as it had done to him. It must have. Was there anything left of the Creature, other than the game they played? The game of cat and mouse, monster and man, nightmare and Dreamer? One poor, tormented soul following another. Or, perhaps, there was something much more... sinister. Something the Dreamer didn't understand. Something that the Dreamer couldn't understand. The Creature, the beast, whether it was part of him, or an entity all its own, it drove him into his thoughts. He had once heard a poem in that place, recited by another lost soul that had eventually found its way home.


It mattered not whether the Creature was a part of him, or... something else. It had crossed the line, forcing the Dreamer to his feet and forcing him to act. The death of the stag... it could not go unanswered. The Creature needed to pay. To be taught a lesson. To be cut down for its transgressions.

Turning toward the beast in the woods, the Dreamer defiantly offered it a sneer. "Why?" he repeated, his eyes falling to the blood dripping from the Creature's monstrous hands. There was no answer. "Why?" he asked again, louder this time. "WHY?" This time it was a ragged scream. "WHY DID YOU DO IT?" The words came out cracked, his voice hoarse, his body trembling and face turning red with rage. "IT DIDN'T DESERVE IT, YOU BASTARD!" The final words left his lips as he ran at the Creature, thoughts and fears for his own safety fleeing his mind. It had taken a life, one that was much more precious than any he had encountered in the Dreamscape. It would pay for its actions. It would...

The words of the poem rang true, though they were not meant for the Creature he charged, but for the anger within the Dreamer. His rage was a beast untamed, unfettered and released on the world around him when he witnessed injustice such an injustice- a wrong that could not be righted, no matter how hard one tried. That didn't matter. He would try, regardless of the outcome.

Wild hair whipped behind the Dreamer as he sprinted at the monstrosity. It was larger than life, the Dreamer barely coming up to its knee, but he charged head on.

The Dreamer quickly approached the Creature, only slowing when he drew near and stopping a little ways away. He looked up at the beast, fire in his eyes and let out an earth shattering roar- a soul tearing scream of rage that bloodied his throat in its ferocity. The Dreamer's emotion, a powerful force in a place built on dreams, left him as a tidal wave and crashed against the beast. It hit the ground hard, the ground shaking beneath its weight.

The Dreamer's eyes glowed a dangerous, bright blue as the power left him. The magic or emotion, or whatever it was, wasn't done. It proceeded to twist the branches and vines of the trees around the creature, latching onto its arms and legs and raising it into the air. The restraints tore at its limbs, pulling and ripping at the Creature's form. The monster struggled against the forces of nature, of the Dreamer, as the man released another bout of fury. The vines wrapped tighter, pulled harder, until something gave. The right arm of the beast disconnected from its torso and fell to the ground, with a spray of crimson.

The confidence that came with victory washed over the Dreamer, slowly driving away the anger as the Creature was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. It had been beaten and broken by his sheer strength of will. It wasn't an all powerful god. It could be destroyed.

At least for a moment...

The Dreamer turned, believing himself to be the victor, and headed back toward the stag with his head held high. In a manner of seconds, the Creature was on its feet, another arm growing out of the bloodied hole the Dreamer had left. It charged the man with a surprising speed, unfitting for a such a large beast. Swinging its regenerated arm at the Dreamer, it launched him through the air, sending him flying through the forest until he slammed into a tree and collapsed to the ground below.

The impact rattled the Dreamer, leaving him fading in and out of consciousness, as the Creature's crimson eyes watched. It waited for him to try again, daring the Dreamer to stand up. But, there was nothing left. The man's energy was spent. The Dreamer leaned against the tree bloodied, broken and unable to move. Closing his eyes, he accepted his fate. This was the end.

After a few seconds, he slipped into unconsciousness, but the faint sound of a dog barking could be heard from somewhere far away in the forest.

The Dreamer awoke to a wet sensation on his cheek.

There it was again... something licking him. He tried to open his eyes but they were heavy, stubborn. He stirred, moving one hand up to feel his cheek, the wet spot there. After several moments of trying, he was able to force his eyes open and he saw the small dog sitting on his lap, tail wagging.

"Max?" he asked, voice low and hoarse. It was barely a whisper, really. The Dreamer blinked a few times, making sure he wasn't seeing things, but the puppy remained. Unable to help himself, a smile began to form, curving the corners of his lips as he appraised the cheery little mutt. Unsure of what had happened, why the Creature was gone and Max had taken its place, he chose not to question it. Gift horse, mouth and all that. "Good boy," he commented with a big, goofy grin on his face. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up to Max, with a distinct lack of beasts chewing on his extremities. There was something about the dog, something he couldn't put his finger on, but Max was the only ally or friend he'd known since coming to the Dreamscape.

After a few minutes of greeting and playing with Max, the Dreamer attempted to force himself to his feet. Failing miserably, he fell back to the ground with a decisive thump, and a throbbing pain on his hind end.

Sighing, the Dreamer reached up and grabbed one of the lower branches of the tree, pulling himself to his feet. He was wobbly and hesitant at first, much like a newborn deer learning to walk.

How long had he been out? Minutes? Hours? Days?

There was no way to tell. In the end, it didn't matter. The time was lost, but he was alive, as was the only friend he had in that twisted hellscape.

After quite a few attempts, that only made him feel miserable after failing time and time again, the Dreamer finally managed to take a step without collapsing. It was progress. Slow, but he'd gained momentum. It was enough to push himself to keep going.

Max had run off into the forest, playing. He barked and chased some of the smaller creatures that called the place home. The Dreamer rolled his eyes and let out a sharp whistle. "Come on, Max!" he called.

The puppy skidded to a halt, one ear perked up as his name was called. Max's tongue lolled out the side of his maw as he took off in the Dreamer's general direction. The pup tripped over a dead branch, causing him to roll, but it didn't stop him! Clambering back onto his feet, he ran to meet his friend.

The Dreamer made his way to the edge of the forest and slowly climbed a small hill to get a better vantage point of the open expanse beyond. Upon reaching his friend, Max circled his legs a few times, the excitement barely contained within the small dog, before he slowed to a stop just beside the Dreamer's right leg. Max peered out over the wilds with the ever growing curiosity of a puppy.

Looking down to Max, the Dreamer smiled at the pup's excitement. It was refreshing. "Well, Max," he started, returning his attention to the open plains in front of him. "We have a long ways to go," the Dreamer explained, garnering a happy bark from the puppy at his side.


The Dreamer and his companion walked for what seemed like forever over the plains just outside the nightmarish forest. There was nothing but grass for miles around, which bothered him. There was no cover, nowhere to go if things went sideways and they needed a place to hide. There was something unsettling but also humbling about being so vulnerable, at the mercy of the world around him. But, of course, Max was running around, playing, in the tall grass. The energy of the puppy seemed endless, which honestly helped alleviate the ball of stress building up in the Dreamer's gut. It improved his outlook, to see that someone could find enjoyment in his prison.

After walking and walking and walking for what felt like an eternity, the Dreamer finally came to a stop. Exhausted he looked up at the moon and said, "I'm sorry, but we have to keep going. This area is too open. No time to stop and rest. It's too dangerous." The apology was the only thing that preceded a hard yank on the rope tied around the rock in the sky, a sharp tug that drew it near. The Dreamer pulled again, reeling in the Moon and pulling it down to the Earth. The closer it got, the smaller it seemed. After a few moments of struggling, there it was, floating beside them.

The Dreamer took Max in his arms and proceeded to climb on top of the Moon, taking a seat and holding the puppy in his lap. The gentle glow of their seat dulled, as if the Moon didn't approve of being used as a night light and transportation. Frowning as he took in the rock's reaction, the Dreamer sighed. "It can't be helped, you have to pitch in too. We're a team," he explained. Not a very good team, given that one of their members tried to run float away every chance it got. But, it was a team, nonetheless.

The Moon was strange. It was different from the one outside the Dreamscape. Perhaps it wasn't a Moon at all, but some kind of sentient rock creature? A question that would go unanswered, but one that the Dreamer pondered regardless. The large rock was cracked and jagged, missing a large chunk, which seemed to have been replaced by a flaming rose. Was that what made it sentient?

On top of that, there were small trees sprouting out of the top. It wasn't like any moon he'd ever seen, but, he'd never seen Earth's moon up close. So, maybe? No, that wasn't what it looked like, he decided. It was difficult to remember things from the waking world, after having been trapped in the Dreamscape for so long.

The Dreamer kept a hold on the reigns rope, and the Moon carried them out over the plains. They traveled silently for a while. The only sounds breaking the silence came from the wind and Max chewing on something or other- mostly the Dreamer's hand as he pet the puppy. Though they were in a nightmarish hellscape, the moment was nice. Pleasant, even. It was nice to have a moment to relax.

After a good while, the Dreamer spotted something in the distance on the horizon. Some kind of light. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand then stared intently at the source of the light, though he couldn't for long. The Dreamer blinked several times, to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but it remained. The Sun, or a sun at least, was rising over the horizon.

Eyes wide, the Dreamer shook Max awake. The pup had started to doze off after a few hours of floating over the plains. The Dreamer pointed frantically at the light in the distance. "The Sun! It's the Sun!" he exclaimed, a smile brightening his worn features- even reaching his eyes and the bags under them. "You see it?" he asked the pup, looking down. Max barked and wagged his tail wildly, excited!

"Let us down! Let us down!" the Dreamer instructed the Moon. If a Moon could smirk, it would have as it rolled over and dumped them a good fifteen feet to the ground below. Luckily, the grass broke the Dreamer's fall, and he broke Max's. The fall didn't faze him, which was clear as he jumped up, set Max down and ran off toward the rising Sun with the puppy following close behind.

The Dreamer, in the daze of his excitement, barely noticed that the star didn't glow yellow like Earth's Sun, but instead glowed orange. It didn't matter. He wasn't on Earth, so there were bound to be differences. But, the glow, the color brought up old memories. Memories of a song, rather than a time or place. Turning on his heel, he snatched Max out of the grass and held him at arm's length, smiling. The puppy squirmed and licked his hand, as he started to hum a familiar tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE-z3bGgvp8

"I was walking along, minding my business, when out of an Orange Colored Sky," he started, singing to Max as he moved closer to the Sun with a certain rythm to his step. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! Wonderful you came by," he sang, his voice still ragged from his shouting match with the Creature. His voice was decent, but not on par with most of the supernaturals out there. Was he a supernatural being, himself? A question for a later date.

"I was humming a tune, drinking in sunshine," the Dreamer continued, swaying to the tune in his head. Max gnawed at his hand in an attempt to free himself from the man's hold, but to no avail. He was lost in his song, his dance, the joy that the light brought. The Darkness was dangerous in the Dreamscape. Light was his friend. A friend that had long since abandoned him. "When out of that Orange Colored View..." he added, swinging the puppy around. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! I got a look at you," he explained, the last note dragging out as it should.

The motion was familiar. The swinging, the dancing, the movements- it was all so familiar. The Dreamer blinked a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as short, fragmented visions enveloped his sight, his senses. He smelled her before he saw her, the sweet scent of lavender permeating the dance floor as Mr. Cole performed on stage at one of the many live venues they'd attended. So long ago, long before he'd been launched into the Dreamscape, for some reason or another. She wore a beautiful, red dress that fit her form perfectly, accentuating all of her best features- her smile being the one he considered the most precious. Long blonde hair flew wildly about the room as they danced. As she leaned into him, that smile lit up her delicate features. But she was gone as quickly as she'd come, the memory fading. It was lost in a the haze of the Dreamscape, along with the rest of his past life.

"One look and I yelled Timber," he sang, spinning around and falling backwards. The Dreamer landed on his back with a thud, and Max scrambled out of his hands onto the ground. The dog bounced around in the tall grass, tail wagging furiously. The Dreamer jumped to his feet in one swift motion, like they did in those old Kung Fu movies. "Watch out for flying glass!" he warned, chasing the puppy in circles, Max thinking it a game. "'Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out, I went into a spin and I started to shout," he sang, matching the pace of the tune as he spun around laughing. "I've been hit! This is it! This is it, I-T, it!" the Dreamer exclaimed with all the dramatic inflection the line deserved.

"I was walking along, minding my business," the Dreamer continued, moving ever closer to the rising Sun off in the distance. There was a certain confidence in his gait, in the way he moved and the way he sang. The dead look to his eyes had faded, making way for naive, hopeful eyes to take their place. "When love came and hit me in the eye!" he added with a flourish, looking back to Max with a smile, thoughts of the beautiful blonde flashing through his mind once more. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! Out of an Orange Colored Sky!" he finished, looking up to the beautiful sky above. The Sun had risen rather quickly and was now just above them. Smiling at the Sun, he noticed something odd- what appeared to be some kind of line. No, not a line. A crack. A crack in the sky.

The Dreamer's eyes widened as the crack spread, breaking the illusion that was the Sun. The record scratched, but the tune kept playing in his mind, albeit at a different pace. The voice turned sinister, demonic even, as the Dreamer snatched up the puppy and booked it across the open plains.

"One look and I yelled TIMBER! Watch out for flying glass!" the sinister voice warned as the first piece of the sky fell, crashing to the ground. Max yelped at the initial impact, and the Dreamer broke into a full on sprint. "'Cause the ceiling fell in," it continued, more pieces of the sky falling. "The bottom fell out," it warned as a large crack split the ground between the Dreamer's leg, causing him to yelp as Max had a moment before. He glanced to each side quickly, taking in his options before jumping to the right of the schism. Stumbling, he quickly regained his balance and continued his frantic advance across the plains with Max held safely in his arms. Max had protected him in the forest, and it was time to return the favor.

"I went into a spin and I started to shout," the voice continued as a piece of the sky fell, the Dreamer barely spinning out of the way as it shattered on the ground. Splinters went flying in all directions, some sinking into his skin and forcing a shout of pain out of the man. "This is it! This is it, I-T, it!" he provided, commenting on the situation. The world was crumbling.

As the sky shattered, the night sky revealed itself. The illusion of the sunny day had clearly been a cruel trick all along- just a figment of his imagination or, more likely, that of another's.

"I was walking along, minding my business, when love came and hit me in the eye" the voice continued. "Running," he corrected, irritation clear in his tone, as he ran through the shifting plains. The Dreamer moved as quickly as he could, eyes flitting about the open landscape, hoping to find something, anything, that could provide shelter. Just a tiny bit of security as the world -presumably- came to an end. That's all he wanted.

"Flash!" A pinpoint bolt of lightning struck the ground just in front of the Dreamer, causing him to veer out of the way to go around it. If it was trying to stop his advance, then he was likely going the right way. At least that was his logic. "Bam!" Another bolt struck the ground, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "Alakazam!" And then another, this one barely missing and close enough to leave the smell of burnt hair permeating the air behind him as he ran. "Out of an Orange Colored, Purple Striped, Fruity Green Polka Dot Sky!" The voice continued, lying of course. Such whimsical and bright colors were nowhere to be seen, but a storm was brewing above, spurring the Dreamer to move faster. He pushed himself as hard as he could. There had to be something, somewhere he could go.

"Flash! Bam! Alakazam!" Lightning struck the ground several more times around him, causing Max to yelp each time. The poor puppy was trembling with fear, and the Dreamer felt a wet spot forming where Max was held against his chest.

As the situation escalated, Max's heart beat quickened. The faster his heartbeat, the less corporeal he became. The puppy was fading. Looking down at Max, the Dreamer pleaded, "No, Max! Don't go! Not yet!" But it was too late. The small dog faded into nothingness, the weight of the puppy disappearing with him, though the wet spot remained. "And goodbye!" The voice added, though it seemed more like a 'good riddance' or maybe a sarcastic 'good luck'.

As the song ended, the Dreamer ran harder than he had ever run before. Barely catching himself in time, he skidded to a halt at the edge of a huge drop-off. In front of him was a massive hole caused by the earthquake, so large he could barely spot the other side of the chasm. At the bottom, several thousand feet below, was an ocean of water. Dark water, the depths of which could not be perceived. "Shit," he complained, standing on the edge of the world as he considered each and every option that came to mind.

Looking up to the Moon, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "This is the last favor," he promised the Moon as he took several large steps back, preparing to take a running start. Gripping the rope tight, with the String trailing behind him, the Dreamer opened his eyes and ran wildly toward the edge. He launched himself into the air just as the ground behind him collapsed, falling into the ocean below. He soared through the air, hoping against hope that his plan would work...

The rope pulled tight as the Dreamer's full weight tried to pull him and the Moon into the water below.

He looked up at the Moon, the worry draining from his expression. "Thank you," he said to the rock in the sky. But the gratitude was a little premature.

If a moon could look mischievous, it certainly did in that moment as the Dreamer noticed a crack down its center, which the rope was slipping through. No, not slipping. More like slicing, like a knife through cheese.

Eyes wide, the Dreamer attempted to scramble up the rope, but it was too late. The rope cut through the last few feet of rock, and a large chunk of the Moon fell into the water below, barely missing the Dreamer as he fell alongside it.

The fall was fast, and there wasn't enough time for him to contort his body into a dive. The Dreamer's back smacked the water, which felt more like concrete after falling hundreds of feet to the surface in a matter of seconds. The air was forced from his lungs as he was submerged.

The now crescent Moon had finally shed the Dreamer and its bond to him. It almost looked smug as the man sank beneath the waves and was pulled into the watery depths of the ocean.

His back was sore. Not just his back, though. The Dreamer's entire body throbbed. He ached, and he... he couldn't move. The Dreamer tried to move his hand, but only a finger twitched in the dark abyss, which was continually growing darker the further down he went.

The chill of the depths enveloped the Dreamer, the pressure growing as he descended. He could feel it all closing in around him as he struggled to break free of the pain, to no avail. Helpless and desperate for a breath of fresh air where there was none to be found, water took its place in his lungs as he panicked. His chest felt like it would explode, his throat burned from the soundless coughing and hacking as he tried to exhale the water back into the ocean.

Useless. Alone. Dying.

No, not alone. The Dreamer felt something brush against him. He looked around frantically, but could see nothing in the dark. There it was again! This time it hit harder, slamming against his right side.

The Dreamer didn't get a good look, but he felt it as it assaulted him. Whatever it was, it was big- much larger than him. Again, what he assumed to be some kind of sea creature assaulted his form as well as his senses, rattling his head as it batted him around like a toy. Clearly, no one had taught it not to play with its food. Another hit from the unseen creature and the Dreamer was propelled downward, further into the depths at a speed that shouldn't have been possible beneath the waves.

The Dreamer closed his eyes and pulled his legs close, in a feeble attempt to protect himself. It was useless, of course. Whatever this beast was, it was relentless. Another hit, and he felt a few ribs crack as he sank deeper. No grunts or shouts of pain left the Dreamer in those soundless depths, but the agony was written on his face as he was battered again and again by something, or maybe many somethings that he could not see.

Another hit, another broken bone- this time his arm. Resisting was hopeless, his strength and breath having fled upon his entrance to that watery hell. Was he going to survive? He'd fought his way through many beasts and countless monstrosities during his time in the Dreamscape. But, how could he fight something he could not see? Oh, and the part where he was drowning was important too, he decided.

As if on cue, the Dreamer opened his eye and spotted a light appear in the distance. His eyes focused on the only light in the dark pit, hoping it would come closer. Yet again the man was batted around, like a mouse caught in a cat's cruel game.

Fortunately for the Dreamer- the light, whatever it was, drew closer. And closer. Closer still.

The source of the light appeared to be some kind of submarine. The light was bright, bright enough to illuminate the immediate area around the Dreamer. It was bright enough to give him a glimpse of his foe, the chef attempting to make a meal of him.

The Dreamer's heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of the monstrosity. The sub's beam, shining several hundred feet in diameter, was only large enough to shed light on a very small portion of the creature. A single hand.

Whatever the hell it was, it was massive, and easily could have breached the waves far above if it chose to stand. The nails on the beast's hand were sharpened to a point, making them appear as claws, each one longer than his entire form.

The Dreamer's heart regained its rythm and then some, beating faster and faster, as he panicked and thrashed about trying to get the attention of the submarine. But it was all for naught, the light did not shine on him. It did, however, move up to reveal a massive pair of eyes. The light blinded the creature and drew a shriek of pain that sent ripples out into the water around it. The Dreamer was sent into a spin, sinking even further into the watery void.

For one living in the depths, the dark abyss that was the bottom of that forsaken sea, light was a source of pain rather than hope. The beast lashed out, swinging its clawed hand at the submarine much faster than should have been possible for its size, especially underwater.

The sub tried to flee, to avoid the attack, but it was too slow. The beast's claws breached the sub and water began pouring in. The light flickered out of control, illuminating different portions of the monstrous creature with each flash.

What could one do against such insurmountable odds? When one was a fly being swatted at by a titan?

The sub and whatever or whoever was piloting it were out of commission. At least it seemed that way, until a missile left the sub and exploded on the beast's eye. The water was stained red as the creature flailed and screeched in pain. It pushed itself to its feet and out of its resting place.

The beast moved toward the submarine, grabbing it in its hand, but the Dreamer didn't notice. Having spotted something as the beast stood, he was distracted. He had noticed a light at the end of the tunnel, bright and beautiful. It had been covered by the creature before, its massive form blocking his path. But, it was open now. Broken and covered in the monster's tainted blood, the Dreamer swam and pushed forward as hard as he could, trying to reach the light.

He could not see it, but the tearing of metal sounded out through the depths, the creature gnashing the submarine between its teeth. Then, it turned on him. It swung one large, clawed hand at the Dreamer as he fled. The hand came down hard where the Dreamer had been, inches from the source of the light.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Thu 01 Sept 2022.