☾ Dear Mr. Sandman . . . ☽ [ RP w/ LoneDigger ]

[brinary]

Dear Mr. Sandman . . .

 

 

 

 

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[tr]

[td]Name[/td]

[td]

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Age[/td]

[td]24[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Desc.[/td]

[td]Brown eyes, brown skin, complexion smooth with freckles along cheeks, more prominent on back and chest // 5'10''. 142 lbs.[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Residency[/td]

[td]Studio 180 Apartments, off Lancing Rd. and Main St.[/td]

[/tr]

[tr]

[td]Notes[/td]

[td]Self admittance into hospital for insomnia, night terrors, and related sleep troubles; dabbles in the mystic and pagan arts "when it suits" him[/td]

[/tr]

[/table]

 

 

[ 01. 06:00 ] Patient enters Summerset Hospital, complaining of sleeping problems, recent transfer from state hospital. Placed under supervision-- in-resident Dr. Faust, assistant psychoanalysis Dr. K. Hirian

 

[ 01. 09:00 ] Patient proceeds normally in day . Breakfast eaten as normal, plate goes clean.

 

[ 01. 13:00 ] Patient observation outdoor recreation -- opts for the garden, books. Makes small talk with staff.

 

[ 01. 13:30 ] Lunch proceeds as normal.

 

[ 01. 18:30 ] Dinner proceeds as normal.

 

[ 01. 20:00 ] Bathing procedures explained, proceeds normally. Patient's nightly routine begins.

 

[ 01. 22:00 ] Patient finally sleeps.

 

[ 01. 22:43 ] REM sleep swiftly interrupted, patient awakens. Nurses on watch to handle sudden activity.

 

[ 01. 22:54 ] Patient sleeps.

 

[ 01. 23:20 ] Patient wakes.

 

[ 01. 23:54 ] Patient sleeps.

 

[ 01. 00:00 ] Patient wakes.

 

[ 02. 00:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 02. 01:20 ] Patient wakes.

 

[ 02. 01:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 02. 02:13 ] Patient wakes.

[ 02. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 02. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 03. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 03. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 10. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 13. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 22. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 27. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 30. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 36. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 41. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 48. 03:20 ] Patient wakes.

[ 50. 02:54 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 50. 03:00 ] Patient wakes.

[ 50. 03:12 ] Patient sleeps.

[ 50. 03:20 ] Patient wakes...

 

---

 

Dell is sitting up again as the evening air fans the curtains of his apartment. His unofficial permanent residence, at this point, really. He feels that the plexi-glass of his keyhole has eyes pointed at it at all times and basks in the dramatic comedy of his life. The homeliness of his hospital room was much more endearing. He'd gotten to purchase several stuffed animals and two plants from the lobby's gift shop. A package had gratefully arrived to have him busy with creating spiraling shapes in tiny mason jars so he could pretend he'd caught a bunch of eternal fireflies. But it was only so long that he could stay.

 

This was his 50th day of a self-tracking observation. If the year were cut into sevenths, he would have just passed the first milestone.

 

None of the treatment plans had been working and his insomnia was only getting worse. The dreams that tormented him had clawed gashes under his eyes, leaving them purple, sunken, like an anemic panda. He can barely find the energy to put something else on that isn't his pajamas, and hasn't left his house in likely weeks. There's packs of rationed food to last him ages and as he looks out to the cold, empty streets, he wonders why he'd even want to leave.

 

It'd gotten to nearly desperate levels. And after a few questions aimed at his aunt, Dell had obtained most of the necessary items to get to work with a nefarious plan-- a truly twisted idea borne from a combined lack of sleep and entering a state of high octane mania.

 

Dell was going to contact the paragon of sleep and give him a piece of his mind.

 

It started with a fire. He pricked his finger and let it bleed on a piece of worn parchment as he wrote with his ballpoint pen, a firmly worded request to speak with this spirit. It was burnt in his kitchen sink and crumpled away under the faucet as Dell busied himself with jumping to lash smoke away from the fire alarm.

 

Then, another parchment. He wrote a sleeping spell and chanted it to himself two times (because his aunt said to avoid things in threes, as a wandering mind was all it took to change the results of any ritual.)

 

Several candles were lit around his room by the parchment, with a bag of dust sitting in cheesecloth, which sat on burlap. The flames leaned and writhed from the few bits of breeze that his open window allowed in, but it was important that they remain open. The sandman's spirit was strong enough to permit the flames stay strong-- and the sandman would come.

 

The man laid himself back down among his sheets and pillows, eyes never leaving the night sky and the light stretched high above, masked by clouds. Dell didn't know when his vision stopped or when his body had so firmly relaxed but another phase of sleep began and he hoped that this time, he'd finally get to give a word to this master of Rest, if at least get more than 10 minutes of peaceful shut eye.

[LoneDigger]

Ain't it foggy outside

All the planes have been grounded

Ain't the fire inside?

Let's all go stand around it

Funny, I've been there

And you've been here

And we ain't had no time to drink that beer

 

'Cause I understand you've been running from the man

That goes by the name of the Sandman

He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye

Of a hurricane that's abandoned

 

Ain't the years gone by fast

I suppose you have missed them

Oh, I almost forgot to ask

Did you hear of my enlistment?

 

Funny, I've been there

And you've been here

And we ain't had no time to drink that beer

 

'Cause I understand you've been running from the man

That goes by the name of the Sandman

He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye

Of a hurricane that's abandoned

 

I understand you've been running from the man

That goes by the name of the Sandman

He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye

Of a hurricane that's abandoned

 

I understand you've been running from the man

That goes by the name of the Sandman

He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye

Of a hurricane that's abandoned

 

I understand you've been running from the man

That goes by the name of the Sandman

He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye

Of a hurricane that's abandoned

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Like a dream itself, Mr. Sandman's form was always changing and shifting from the subconscious mind's control over not only fantasy, but reality.

 

He was known by many names Ole Lukoje (or Old Shuteye) and perhaps his first even given name by humans back in ancient Greek times… Morpheus.

 

Whatever they wanted to call him it mattered not, his presence only being changed by the perspective of mankind and their stories to children. Some viewed him as a kind spirit that sent children sweet dreams.

 

“…Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreamed at all…”

 

Whereas, others saw him more as a demon,

 

“…He was a wicked man who comes to children when they won’t go to bed and throws a handful of sand into their eyes, so that they start out bleeding from their heads. He puts their eyes in a bag and carries them to the moon to feed his own children, who sit in the nest up there. They have crooked beaks like owls and can pluck up the eyes of naughty human children...”

 

Children who fell under his spell and promptly went to sleep were judged as “good” and “obedient.” But children who fought the effects of his magic dust risked a sentence of mutilation, a life of torturous nightmares or even death.

 

Which was the real sandman? Well, that really was up for debate, as the answer was not simple. It was obscure and difficult to reach just like a forgotten dream itself.

 

But in this modern day and age humans did not really think about him much anymore beyond the occasional song dedicated to his being.

 

So imagine when he found that someone had actually had the nerve to send him a very rude letter demanding why he was having trouble sleeping and that he ought to come and fix it right away. Well, he was rightly offended of being accused, but also intrigued. Perhaps he could help. But he didn’t think this sort of thing could be his fault in the first place… yet he was the master of dreams, was he not? Maybe he had done something wrong with this one.

 

It was time to visit the sleepless male in all things but a dream itself. He couldn’t just go around knocking on people’s doors and just showing up for a casual visit. Things were never that simple when you were a mystical being of imagination.

 

If only Dell could stay asleep for just a few minutes, it would give him enough time to break his subconscious, he found himself entering a mind that was so empty of sweat dreams being inside was a literal nightmare. He had to push past the terrors just to break a hole where he could slip past into a small section that was empty and just waiting for a good dream to fill it in… Or a summoned guest.

[brinary]

It was a new nightmare this time, a sensation play. It was static all around him, scrambled microwave forms crashing into each other in a cacophonous crackling. It was the TV turned to the wrong function on the wrong station with the snow of salt and pepper all moving around him. Something high-pitched was clawing up the side of his head and it made his nails feel as if they were bleeding.

 

Dell walked through the landscape with eyes that weren't his, a cottonmouth that had ran so dry now swallowing felt like taking a draught of bottled fire. The strangest thing about sleeping was that he fell in so deeply, nearly immediately hitting a REM-like state that completely encompassed his attentions and halted his body's needs. And while he was dreaming, it felt like a stretch of months and years that'd passed by. Sometimes something like electrical fire caught against the sides of the static. It was what Dell decided to deem the wind.

 

He trudged forward.

 

He kept going until his legs were worn down by the salt and pepper snow, until the blood from the nubs that had been the stilts he unevenly hobbled on was eaten by the same static, until even his legs were gone and he was limbless, chest flat on the ground as the static stuttered and shook through his frame.

 

Had it been months? Or years, spent in this state?

 

With an amount of strain, Dell pushed himself turtle-style onto his back. Even if he closed his eyes the static was still there, black and white spots behind his lids slowly mimicking the outside world. He opened them to find that the world had oddly fell quiet. Once sharp and electric singing that had pierced his ears had quieter to an unmistakable line in the sky, mumbling instead of screeching. Even the static had calmed some.

 

It was jarring, to say the least.

 

Without legs he couldn't walk all the way back and pulling himself by his arms would end in the skin there being torn to shreds. So why the sudden quiet.

 

"Hey." He didn't trust the voice that came out of his throat, didn't really trust speaking in dreams generally-- the echoes would come back in another entity and haunt him, stab him, somehow ruin a situation. Words were dangerous in dreams. But what did he have to lose anymore- the nightmares would persist, or he would wake up and stay up, or he would die in his sleep. Only one of those options sounded remotely attractive. The other two were realities he'd gotten used to.

 

"Hey," Dell repeated. Staring at the stilling static. "If you're there, Dream-man, I don't think this will last long. Can we talk now? Thanks."

 

He closed his eyes again from tiredness. It was just a matter of waiting now, for a response or for his sudden waking.

[LoneDigger]

Can you hear the night's deep song?

All the shadows say

Telling you when you're asleep,

Tears will fade away

 

Dream of morning's golden light

When you and I will leave the night ...

 

And when the moon is high and bright,

Stars will shine on you

 

Dream of morning's golden light

When you and I will leave the night ...

 

Make a wish and when

you close your eyes

I will come to you

 

Dream of morning's golden light

When you and I will leave the night ...

 

Make a wish and when

you close your eyes

I will come to you

 

 

 

What an awful place it was inside this man's mind… Not even the Sandman himself could have conjured something up as awful as this. This was truly the work of something more sinister than Ole Shuteye was capable of.

 

What he created were dreams or lack of therefore, but never could he make someone see such horrible things, this really was going to be a piece of work cut out for him trying to fix this mess. No wonder the man had summoned him, clearly desperate for some kind of answer to his nightmares.

 

The man demanded that he speak to him, but the Sandman wasn’t so sure if talking to the humans broke some sort of law, and he was pretty sure that it did. Since during his whole career he had never directly spoken to a human before. But of course, there was a little loophole to that particular problem… Sending a dream of a figure representing himself to converse with. Even if talking in a dream could be very unstable, if Dell were to awaken or his subconscious affect the dreamscape.

 

A shadowy shape formed in Dell’s mind, almost flickering. There and then not again until it became more stable and a voice echoed inside his head.

 

“…. I can assure you this is not my work…. Why would I ever create something so dreary, hm?”

[brinary]

Dell, for a moment, had felt the tears catch in the corner of his eyes at the silence that followed his question. The slow dissolve of hope. He was a madman, meant to be trapped in either fits of terrors or endless days of waking, might as well get the noose ready now. But then he heard the inkling of a voice and his dream changed.

 

It wasn't as static-like. The warbling and snow frazzled landscape was still there but the voice had almost tuned it, taking the rods of Dell's tv mind and twitching them to and fro. Getting somewhere better than totally off-air, but not quite on the correct frequency. His eyes fell closed to better see the shapeless mass.

 

"I don't know. I don't know why you would." Was this the Sandman, then? An actual answer? Dell couldn't see himself saying something so eloquently. And the voice inside his head didn't sound like him, or even a distortion. It sounded so separate. And the vision wasn't like a dream, or a nightmare's twisted take on a dream, no figure in golden robes and a dressing gown, or a cloud of smoke to be traveled on. Just a voice, and a form that was close to a figure. No it had to be real-- it had to be true. The Sandman had finally come.

 

His heart was lurching. It was a prayer finally answered. But still so many questions.

 

Tiredly, the man heaved a sigh and asked, "If not you, then who? Or what? Am I that self-destructive to have somehow overrided your… I don't know. Spirit-dream system?" Even saying it made him laugh a little.

 

So absolutely insane, to be such a wreck that you complicate something so simple-- dreams, and the gatekeeper of them. Dell hadn't even been a massive connoisseur of anything dark or gruesome, merely struggling with sleep all his life. But this was the kicker.

 

"I guess I should apologise, for you having to see this," he murmured after a pause. "It's pretty gross. It's always kind of gross."

[LoneDigger]

I spent these waking hours waiting for the sandman

I spent these waking hours looking for his master plan

I’ll wait ‘til morning ‘til he comes to my house

And he’ll give no warning when he’s knocking me out

 

So sing me to sleep tonight

And don’t bring me back to life

 

I spend these waking hours waiting for the sandman

I spend these waking hours looking for his master plan

He will be sorry when he comes to my house

I’ll show no mercy ‘til the lights go out

 

So sing me to sleep tonight

And don’t bring me back to life

 

We’re waiting for the sandman, but he never hears the call

 

So sing me to sleep tonight

And don’t bring me back to life

 

We’re waiting for the sandman, but he never hears the call

 

"… I don’t have an excuse other than it’s simply too difficult to visit every single being in the world… my job used to be far easier millenniums ago when they were less dreams to be made…”

 

A dramatic pause, as if even thinking about how much work it was to visit all sleeping creatures of the world every single night.

 

“But I do not yet have an answer as to who would have done such a dreadful thing… It’s only a wonder you haven’t killed yourself.”

 

Oops, he didn’t mean to let that one slip out loud, but it was too late to take back his rude comment now.

 

“… Anyways, I can try to give you a good dream. Mind you, try.”

 

Morpheus had no idea if whatever had planted this horror show of a nightmare in Dell’s mind was somehow controlling it. Or if he had even enough room to make a pleasant dream. So much of the man’s mind was just flooded with that eerie static mess.

 

Even in all his existence since the first dreamed was created… he had doubted he’s seen such a thing, and trust me…. Mr. Sandman has seen it all. Or so he thought until just now.

[brinary]

Dell had a lot of things to say. The first was that maybe the Sandman should update his practises if things were such hard to get at. The way he saw it, the dream system could be easily managed with some center of control and singling out minds with waning attentions and sending the necessary inputs for their own dreamscapes. But obviously the Sandman was the Sandman. If he was emphasizing the difficulty, well.

 

Didn't Dell just feel special? He assumed it was rare to get these personal visits. Still legless, the man opened his eyes to observe the quieted static of his dreams. He pressed his hands against the floor and felt that even the jarring vibrations that had ate his legs to nothing were softer. Rumbles in the ground.

 

At the Sandman's comment, he outright laughed, a bark of amusement that made nails feel like they were grinding up his throat with every inhale following. Best not to say anything. He didn't want to alarm someone who had so genuinely decided to help. Admittedly, Dell felt sheepish now. Whoever this spirit was obviously had a lot of things to do with a lot of mouths to figuratively feed. Putting time aside for one patron was already enough. But in this metaphor, a patron that stopped by to cruise the goods and loitered around for hours on end, only to leave abruptly without paying for anything?

 

Yeah. That's nice.

 

Morpheus's influence or not, the world slowly changed-- well, barely. A good dream seemed simply a peaceful existence, with the static all but vanishing and being replaced by shifting colors and a semi-visible floor. The edges where the long walls met the floor was very fine and as yellows pushed into oranges that shifted to purples and bent around pinks, the man tipped his head back with another laugh. Dell had his feet back, thank goodness.

 

It felt so good. Such a relief to see, that Dell could nearly burst into another fit of emotion. "Wow. Did you do this?" he murmured in amazement, slowly sitting up to gaze around the cubed enclosure that his dream had become.

[LoneDigger]

“It could be the work of a dream demon, but I’m really not quite sure…”

 

After all, this was stranger than he had imagined. He was the wonderful Sandman, bringer of sweet dreams and deep sleep, not night terrors and insomnia.

 

But he supposed it could be his fault… If he had been here before this started perhaps he could have worked his spell on Dell sooner and sort of block out any other beings or thoughts from entering Dell’s subconscious.

 

The human brain was a strange thing, even Morpheus himself didn’t always understand it. In fact the only thing he knew about the mind was how to make it think happy thoughts and go to sleep.

 

“Does this amuse you somehow?”

 

The sandman asked, but his voice was not accusing, more curious if anything.

But no time to waste now, the shapeless shadow suddenly pulled out a ‘handful’ seeing that what would have been the thing’s hand was only a blob, but inside his hand glittered something bright goldish yellow and he sprinkled it around the remaining bits of static to make them disappear and slowly spread way to sunset colors bleeding peacefully together and it was finally growing quiet.

 

“Of course. I always bring a pocket full of stardust with me… I suppose you were good and well earned a sweeter dream.”

 

The sandman chuckled, his name was so wrong. Everyone had decided that what he threw into their eyes was mere sand. But he hated the stuff. It was gritty and belonged to the Earth. Nothing mystical about it.

[brinary]

Dream demons. It wasn't something to entirely rule out, but the thought made him shudder. A wayward statement directed towards his family could have him strapped down to a plane seat and headed back to Cuba instantly. They were superstitious and deeply believed in practical mantras to rid bad spirits. It wasn't "magic" because they believed in God, and God's magic was his glory, and no one else could possess it-- but after burning sage, having some recite incantations, and bleeding a chicken, you'd think that the ritualistic actions would say something about magic...

 

Either way.

 

Dell basked in the dream. It was living inside of a lava lamp at its barest function, a sight for the eyes with every other part of him closed off. There was no warmth or no sound. Dell could be looking at, for all intensive purposes, his computer screen when it was on rest mode. Even the monitor when it was full screen and playing music on that old program from the 2000s, flumes and whirls of hues mishing and mashing as one.

 

It was way better than any of the dreams Dell's had in almost the past year now.

 

"Thanks." Dell would have been beaming if it weren't for how tired he was. "I really--" the floor fell out from under him and the semi-transparent floor turned to glass, skewering him as he went down, the shadowy blob of a savior separated from him by the fragmenting image of his dreams.

 

Usually he would wake up slowly, disorientated and then lurching into action. But it was the opposite this time, the man bolting up with a gasp and then hacking out his lungs, breathing in deeply from his year-long experience in the dream before collapsing back to the worn mattress. Dell's hip ached and he retrieved his phone from where it had slid down, prepared to take the miserable note.

 

[ 50. 03:33. ] Patient wakes up.

 

A miserable 10 to 13 minutes, if he factored in that it'd taken a minute or two before he went back to sleep before his last calculation. This was even shorter than his hospital records and a sure sign that he was in for another bought of insomnia. It was lurking on the horizon and when Dell laid his head down to sleep, vision still caught with the dreamlike lava-lamp the dream spirit had created for him, and the black walls and dark night of his reality, he could not get to sleep.

[LoneDigger]

Could this be more than just a coincidence? The Mara, or dream demons were a very likely possibility… Could it be maybe even if was his brother dearest… even the mere thought was dripping with sarcasm.

 

See his brother was the bringer of nightmares. But was this particular nightmare a work of his or just coincidence?

 

It wasn’t like he had seen any real signs of his brother dwelling around Dell’s mind… his brother was more of a specialist when it came to nightmares that played out upon phobias. Dell’s dreamscape was so surreal and complex he almost doubted how his brother could have thought this up. But then again, the times were always changing, and maybe this was the new fear of humans… an oblivion of static.

 

Whatever the case, something was seriously wrong here. Even after sprinkling a very generous amount of star dust all around he could sense a disturbance in the mind, the landscape slowly breaking down as Dell began to gain consciousness again.

 

The sandman quickly left the dream before he could be trapped in the collapsing colors, swallowed away forever.

 

Once outside of Dell’s head, he decided to break some rules… humans were never ever permitted to see Old shuteye except for when they were asleep. That was the whole point of the mythical being was it was something that you would never be able to see, but still believe in. Kind of like God himself.

 

So maybe he wasn’t really standing there at all, maybe he was just a figment of Dell’s imagination trying to comfort itself with the presence of the very God of Dreams himself.

[brinary]

It was considerably bad to just stay caught in the confusion and pessimism of another ill-spent dream. When six minutes had passed and he still found that he could not sleep, Dell propped himself up, slammed back down on the bed, groaned, then rolled out.

 

A large and colorful blanket was lifted from trailing totally on the floor as Dell began to walk to his tiny kitchnette. Grumbling all the way of course. He stood there in the soft glow of the microwave light he pressed on, then went about turning the stove off to boil the kettle for tea. The man stood there for a moment longer as he watched the coils turn red then soften back to embers before turning to amble back to his room.

 

Another stretch of the jaws as he groped around the cluttered bedstand and put his glasses on. His hair was matted and tangled now, which he noted with a grimace in the reflection his phone screen. It was still weird-- things that were and were not there, people should be able to tell what's what. But Dell's insomniac trends interrupted by jolting dreams made things that more questionable.

 

He began to draft a message on his family groupchat about actually seeing the Sandman when he paused, glanced to the foot of his bed, and stared openly at what he... Well, what, he didn't know.

 

The memory of his childhood, of being cramped up tight in a ball and peering through a hole in his sheet at shadows in the corner of hid room-- of men and women that weren't there but looked so realistic, hunched or slouching or pressed to the corners. The way the light and dark and the haze of sleep can play tricks on the mind.

 

How clutching the sheets tighter and willing his eyes stay vigilant, how going to school the next day yelping at every shadow, had frayed his nerves. That was back when medicine actually worked. When he was just a scaredy-cat child.

 

"Hello?" he whispered, not trusting himself to speak outloud to nothing. Dell could be inviting a demon to play with him for all he knew. That thought sobered him instantly and made him feel dry in the throat (even more so than when he'd woken up) as he feared what he may have gotten himself into.

[LoneDigger]

Say your prayers, little one

Don't forget, my son

To include everyone

 

I tuck you in, warm within

Keep you free from sin

Till the Sandman he comes

 

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight

 

Exit light

Enter night

Take my hand

We're off to Never, Neverland

 

Something's wrong, shut the light

Heavy thoughts tonight

And they aren't of Snow White

 

Dreams of war, dreams of liars

Dreams of dragon's fire

And of things that will bite

 

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight

 

Exit light

Enter night

Take my hand

We're off to Never, Neverland

Now I lay me down to sleep

Pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I die before I wake

Pray the Lord my soul to take

 

Hush little baby, don't say a word

And never mind that noise you heard

It's just the beasts under your bed

In your closet, in your head

 

 

This was really, really bad.

 

Dell’s growing anxiety was causing the Sandman to slip away, he was influenced by emotions of the mind and since the man was envisioning something terrifying, it was giving way for his brother the God of nightmares to take his place in Dell’s mind eye instead.

 

Enter Phobetor

[brinary]

Dell watched in what slowly became open horror as the shape morphed and changed, stretching out thin to the point it nearly hit the cramped box of his apartment. It went broad then chiseled as horns skewered through the black folds and holes formed all around its body. The thin, sunken look of his father on his hospital bed-- the decrepit atmosphere of ruins and buildings, the same cold chill that whipped at him as he stayed in the same room with his dead Grandmother--

 

the man stumbled to his feet and hit his foot awkwardly against the bedstand. His breath flew out of him as he clutched his phone tighter.

 

When Dell had just moved in, his mother insisted he do a spiritual cleanse on the room every twice a month. Would not leave him be on the matter no matter how many times he showed her the rules of his lease which expressly forbid nearly everything that could be done within the parameters of a cleansing.

 

He should have broken the rules somehow. Should have even consulted his great-grandmother's old texts, something-- something but now a creature was filling his room and the moon was being blotted out and he couldn't think and couldn't breathe and everything was crashing in on him. Was this a dream? Was he still dreaming? "Wake up." Dell was mumbling, teeth clicking together hard in his terror. "Wake up, wake up, please wake up, change," he hissed to himself, trying to grasp for the doorknob and undo its complicated locks all while keeping his eyes on the creature and trying to stay grounded.

[LoneDigger]

Wake up~

Wake up~

 

Fucked up~

Fucked up~

 

The voice taunted, the sound was like an echo, starting off soft and sinister but soon turning into a loud thundering sound that filled every centimeter of the room and filled it with terror.

 

The mara or dream demons fed upon fear, they were horrible creatures, minions of the God of Nightmare. Some crept and crawled, while others slithered around, some flew erratically like bats.

 

A clawed hand with rotting flesh melting off the bone like some kind of strange plague grabbed at Dell's arm, pulling him backwards into the chaotic darkness that had overtaken the room and even reality itself.

The other hand grasped the doorknob and it too began to dissolve, leaving no exits. The windows were open but outside the moon was being swallowed slowly by some kind of monstrous dog like creature made from smoke, and once his dripping maw had clenched down around the whole circle of light it began to vanish until he swallowed it whole, the room being plunged into total darkness, nothing could been seen, but the static sound had returned and a feeling of something scratching at the flesh behind Dell's eyes as they began to bleed and the claw handed plucked them out.

 

Naughty boys who do not stay asleep get their eyes stolen by the wicked sandman. What a lovely present these will make for my dear hungry children~

[brinary]

He was going to die in this dream. It had finally reached the point where he'd crafted an inescapable prison, and he was going to die. And when his family found his body- rotting by the open window, pecked on by the birds, buzzing with flies and their larvae, they were going to tell Dell that he should have listened. The thundering noise and creatures ignited an even deeper desperation to escape.

 

His movements had become clumsy. If only he was faster, if he could remember his prayers. As the hand grabbed him, Dell outright screamed, struggling away before being pulled into the darkness. His stomach lurched and the sweaty hand that gripped his phone was shaking. The man looked toward the last remaining light as it was swallowed by a horrible vision. Bile rose in his throat, the acid hot and stinging as it tickled the back of his throat. All that was left was the total darkness and shifting, haunting shadows.

 

So small, that's what this was, feeling so, so small again- just a young boy with frightening dreams. Dell tried to shy away from everything and nothing at all with yelps and yips and whimpers as his senses became overloaded. An excruciating pain made a hand fly up before Dell wordlessly yelled at his eyes being taken, the sharp nails piercing past the flesh of his socket and hooking into the fleshy tendrils. As the nerves were pinched and severed, the bile abruptly rose and Dell had to swallow down vomit at the same time he opened his mouth to scream. Gagging, gasping, the man fell on his back in the darkness.

 

It was swallowing him up, it was killing him. He was going to die.

 

Then his phone gave an abrupt and shrill noise before breaking out into the ringtone he'd selected for one of his aunts, the light cutting through in the darkness enough for Dell to feel it more than see it. Sweat that had been coating Dell's phone left it pressure sensitive.

 

"Ayyy, pendejo, porqué dejaste el chat grupal, solo esa declaración, estas trataaaannn de ser gilipollas! Oye, Yusnavi, estoy haaabbblllando contigo! hheeeLLLLOOO! YUSNAVI."

 

Like binds, his silence was shattered, Dell screaming, "PICK ME UP TELL MOM TO PLEASE PICK ME UP." Panic was coursing through him, grasping the phone close without realizing the pressure and already dewy screen was making his screen flicker to different apps and pages, the phone disconnecting almost as quickly as the call was answered.

[LoneDigger]

A touch of reality was all that needed to make the Mara fade away as soon as they had appeared, retreating back to the shadows.

And speaking of vomit, that dog like creature who had swallowed the moon suddenly made an awful retching sound as light poured from it's saliva dripping mouth and a sharp 'hack' as the moon erupted from it's mouth and back into the sky. Only now the moon was no longer a full one, but a small sliver was missing as if still in the dream demon's belly.

Another important thing that was returned to normal was Dell's eyes, they were popped right back in the socket's the moment he blinked again, vision restoring a room that looked the same as it had before the nightmare's took over.

There was no sign of the sandman or of his wicked counter part. Nothing.

[brinary]

"Christ," Dell whispered as he found himself on his shitty hardwood floor, with a pounding headache, and tears streaming down his face. The moon was still hanging in the sky. He craned his neck to look at the time on the microwave's clock.

 

4:00.

 

He put his fist to his eyes and rubbed clockwise, once, then twice, seeing stars and feeling the stinging of the salt once he opened them again. Half an hour. Just a half hour spent-- no. Less than that, maybe even fifteen, twenty minutes, lucid dreaming or seeing things but they felt so real, they couldn't have just been visual hallucinations, no, they had to have been real. They were real. It felt so real. But his eyes were still in his head and the slimy grip of a festering hand was no more and his room was still gently lit by the moon outside-- curtains still gently ruffled by the wind of the early morning.

 

Yusnavi's mother and two of her sisters came nearer to 5 with their copy of the apartment key. Dell was still awake, curled up against the wall as his eyes stared at the spot by his bed where the nightmares had manifested. With dismay, the women took him into their arms and time passed by quickly. He was numb- he let them strip him down and only started to resist as they pushed him to the dark, small bathroom. But that, too, was broken down. Shoved ungracefully into the cramped tub, Yusnavi had cold water fill it halfway and the showerhead sprayed him down, aunt watching as he slowly bathed.

 

The apartment filled with food and light shortly. The sun eventually began to join the gathering.

 

6:00.

 

Yusnavi forced the final bite of croquettica and swallowed with a forced smile. His stomach was upset throughout the entire ordeal of eating such a massive breakfast but it acquiesced his worrying family. The kitchen and apartment buzzed with voices from the radio, from the women themselves, as the young man rested his cheek against the cold countertop of his kitchenette. His eyelashes batted and then touched as he sank into a slouch, mouth hanging open just slightly as sleep overtook him once again.

 

A jolt-- he snapped his eyes open and dug his nails into his arm, breathing out hard. Awake. Dell had to stay awake. He had to, he had to...

[LoneDigger]

Morpheus felt dreadful at what had happened to the poor man when his fears got the better of him it was just too hard to hold his brother back, anxiety attracted him stronger than moths to a light. Not really a good comparison considering the darkness, but hell with it.

 

He needed to create a really special good dream to make Dell forgive him after the night terrors, but what could he do?

The sandman watched the family, but they could not see him. Not even Dell could when it was daylight. Those were the rules.

 

Sighing softly he stared at the man's messy hair and wondered if that could be part of the trouble. The mara must have been tangling in his hair to get into his mind. Or simply the tossing and turning from restlessness was to be blamed.

Something had to be done... but it was hard to work his magic in a world that was more ruled by fear and darkness than hopeful dreams.

No one even believed he was real, not even most children. He was almost becoming extinct in the minds of so many... even if he gave them the gift of sweet dreams, he received no credit.

 

Oh, well. It wasn't like he could ever retire from an eternal job... not until the last creature was dead that could dream... he would live on.

 

So quietly, he grabbed just small pinch of stardust and sprinkled into the heavy lids of Dell's so he could pay him a visit, just a quick apology. This really was becoming too tedious...

[brinary]

They'd put him down in his bed to sit up, rubbing vapor rub against his throat and under his chin, four dots under his nose, until all he smelled was the sweltering summers and springs of his childhood as allergies and sickness made him bedbound and red-faced. He imagined he painted a similar picture now but could hardly think of what he looked like.

 

There were things in the world Dell couldn't trust any longer. Even looking at his phone screen too long made him glance away before he could digest his reflection. What did he look like now, he wondered, staring at his family. Swollen lips like his mother with the same sharp and inquisitive nosy eyes of his aunt Paela? Had they sunken in deep from stress, were wrinkles creasing his brow?

 

Dell stifled and yawn and turned on his side to face the rising sun. Buildings lined in orange and silver. Dell yawned again, freer this time, nodding off then bucking again to wake himself. But the urge was so strong now and he was on his side in bed. And the lights were on, and his family was there, and he felt so warm...

 

The conversation became less discernible and muted into a pleasant hum. Something about plans, someone to call, but those were the last snippets Dell heard as he fell asleep in the light of daybreak, lips parted even as he slowly became aware of his dreamscape-- which just happened to be his apartment in the morning.

[LoneDigger]

Come on now, he could do better than that. Not that apartment in the morning glow wasn't a bad dream, but it wasn't quite at the level of dreaminess that it could be.

Or maybe was the sandman jealous that for Dell a sweet dream was nothing more than being asleep in bed surrounded by loved ones bathed in the morning glow?

No, he wanted to give him more... so he took another pinch of stardust and sprinkled it over the heavy lids deepening the dream into something a bit more magical.

The sounds of sea birds, and waves crashing against sand, the sunlight for a moment was blinding, but then Dell would find himself in nothing but swim shorts, standing on the shore of some tropical island. Not just some... but Cuba itself.

He was all alone on this beach, except for there was another man, also in swim shorts of course, his were the really tacky sort with bright colors and tropical flowers, but it suited the stranger somehow.

His skin was a deep golden bronze color, his hair was dark brown and wavy, blowing in the sea breeze coming off the turquoise waves of the sea that he was staring out to.

[brinary]

Dell had been pushing himself up when the strength suddenly left him. Arms wobbling, he collapsed back against his bed with a sharp exhale then felt his essence practically floating along to another dream. particles glittering by as he felt the images and scents around him morph, change.

 

This was a place he hadn't seen in years. This place, whose pure comforts made the man daydream of returning many a time. Salt was fresh in the air and the gentle spray of the waves left the air tingling with sensation. Dell can hardly recall having stood under the sunlight in recent memory. But it felt all too real-- the peace, the charm.

 

Speaking of charm. Dell specifically remembers staring at the tacky prints of tourists or reffie cousins who rubbed coins together thinking Ed Hardy shirts were all the rage. It almost made him laugh out loud but Dell was too caught up in the fact that he was dreaming-- dreaming, a pleasant dream-- and there was someone that looked pleasant and beautiful in it.

 

Dreams like this did not happen to him. He was always destined for nightmares. But when the opportunity presented itself, Dell tightened his fist around it and approached the stranger, clearing his throat with one then two tuts. "Uh, hi. I... Hi." His mother always advised him never to temper with spirits in dreams, but this one was so pretty, and so tackily dressed, he needed to. Perhaps he shouldn't be one to speak, dressed in the tight swim trunks his uncle insisted would fit him, even if his thighs proved to be a challenge, the bright orange and yellow sunshine streaked garment eye-catching in ways Dell detested.

[LoneDigger]

The stranger did not seem to hear Dell, that or perhaps he purposely ignoring him. His gaze was glued on a small sailboat out at sea, just drifting far away from the shore. Where was it going? Who was aboard?

But when he turned away, his eyes were covered by a pair of shades. He seemed to be just as home here as the other was, but yet he was still only a stranger, or maybe a forgotten memory.

So very rude, he didn't even say hello back. Simply acknowledged the other with a short nod as he turned and took way down the beach, the white sand kicking up lightly at his heels.

He hoped that the other would follow him to his little special place set up underneath a rainbow umbrella and some fold out chairs, more tacky stuff like neon floaties and towels with iconic cartoon characters.

The stranger dug around for the blue cooler, cracking open the lid and rummaging through the ice to pull out a drink, it was not for him. But offered to Dell, then he took one for himself and held it up to cheers.

[brinary]

Uneasy. That's what this was, unease. Nerves plucked their way into the bobbing of Dell's throat as he followed the stranger's gaze out to the water. The thoughts that came made him uncomfortable-- there's a lot of conflict between immigrating and simply going fishing. But those are things he'd rather not think about and instead glanced back at the strange man. Then to the sea again, then back. The nerves were getting pulled taut and ready to be played before the stranger finally looked at him.

 

Then walked away.

 

Dell watched him go with a frown and then scratched at his ankle with his foot, shifting in the sand. Such an empty beach and so many items to adorning a little spot like that. Dell saw the drink offered to him-- Jupina was always his favorite-- but still something in him relented. Standing by the shoreline, Dell looked back at the sailboat. It had traveled further out and rocked steadily on. There were few birds in the sky and less on such a sandy retreat, but he supposed to cleanliness of one such area would make it a less attractive eatery for the scavengers.

 

There was nothing else to do, so he padded out to the stranger's little set-up and sat down carefully and took the drink, lifting them in a cheers, before sipping. The bittersweet made him shudder and sink further into a pit of nostalgic pleasure. "Thanks," he murmured.

[LoneDigger]

He was trying not to control the dreamscape too much, but yet he didn't want Dell to start getting too anxious and shifting this back into another nightmare like last time.

 

No, this was just a happy little day at the beach, nothing to worry about at all... except for pinching crabs, stinging rays, hungry sharks, drowning at sea, or sunburn, or a sudden hurricane... Well, let's not even get started on that or he's going to giving himself a heart attack.

 

He turns his attention to Dell and waits before the other takes the first sip before giving his a try, not able to taste it, only image what it was like.

Grunting softly as clutching the bottle in on hand as he eases himself down on the towel next to the man, barely spilling the liquid inside as he sets that down and stretches out his legs. They appear to have been waxed or something because not a bit of hair is on them or really the rest of his body for that matter. Just his wavy haired head.

 

He looks out to the water again, watching the waves roll in and out again. Like it's calling out to them...

[brinary]

There was a drawn out silence that Dell felt extreme anxiety begin to prickle him about. But thankfully, he had a drink in his hand and a nice setting to distract him, and let the silence play out into something unfamiliar strangers would share. The stranger seemed to be occupied anyway. It gave time for Dell to indulge himself in self-critique. A peculiar hobby but something innate to almost everyone, he felt like, was cataloging the differences between one's self and another person. It was too clinical and matter-of-fact to be described as ogling, but neutral enough to avoid the label of scrutinizing.

 

Dell's legs were hairy. The stranger's were not. Still sipping his drink, Dell noted the subtle color shifts in the golden skin, a smooth complexion shaded by the dark of the umbrella. Where the sun-soaked area began, he could really take note of what seemed like faint glimmering, like a sheen, on the man's legs. It reminded him of rolling deserts. Dell's own skin was less rich but something like dark coffee laden with plenty of milk. It made his hair stand out even more.

 

His hair was curly. The stranger's was wavy.

The stranger's nose seemed more pointed than his rounded one.

His hair was longer.

His lips were thicker, but perhaps not wider.

Was the stranger heavier than him? Was he mute, or perhaps that was just a part of his imagination's work?

 

Now much more comfortable in his dream, and halfway done with his Jupina, Dell stood back up from the towel and chewed his lip looking serious and contemplative.

 

Without much fanfare, the Cuban bent his knees and grabbed the stranger's sides, then stood again and handled him lack a sack of rice, walking back out to the shoreline and padding into the water. He felt the sand begin and where the shoreline bottomed out, one foot at the very edge of that border, as he proceeded to toss his dream's manifestation into the water.

 

Just to see what happens. Just for the spontaneity of it. Also, to answer an important question which was, hm, they seemed about similar-ish weights.