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

[LoneDigger]

Even the sandman seemed to sense that Dell was only humoring him because of some other reason. Loneliness was a killer, but laughter was a cure. He knew that very well, but Phobia just seemed to be getting tired of all this. He couldn't be scary anymore, and that was not only boring, but actually a bit terrifying. When a subject took control of their dreams he had no power while his older brother just grew stronger which each happy thought.

 

If serpents could sigh, then this snake would have been exhaling loudly. He tried to make a little escape while it seemed Morpheus was distracted helping the Cuban guy who's name he couldn't recall make some kind of sweet pudding or other... gross. He slithered away only to be quickly snatched again, he didn't know that his brother could multitask!

 

"Like this?"

 

Morpheus questioned as he held the pan at a bit of an angle and pushed around the square of butter in the brown sugar, causing it to melt faster and blend together slowly.

He held it just above the heat so it wouldn't cook too quickly and kept concentrating perhaps a bit too intensely on his new job, not even paying attention to what was around him and bumping against Dell until the only thing that broke him was any time he felt something cold and scaly slide around his neck.

[brinary]

Yusnavi entered his own concentrated realm when he cooked as well. Giving direction was easy-- he'd had plenty of cousins and sisters and nieces and nephews to hone that skill. There was an awareness that he entered where things were apparent to him but only dimly. If a fire were to break out, he could immediately respond. If two children were to get into an argument behind him he would know but it would slide away instantaneously, the knowledge of a dispute, until it reached a crescendo of physicality.

 

What happened to be a new variable was Morpheus and his cute ass.

 

Bumping into someone here and there was fine. And whenever Yusnavi happened to do it, he murmured an apology or a nervous giggle bubbled out of his throat. But it happened increasingly. Arms brushing, crossing, fingers touching, hips and shoulders bumping.

 

Endurance was important but Yusnavi's only good performance with that was with enduring long seasons of no sleep. Being so close and comfortable with Morpheus was incredibly disarming. To the point where he kept panicking about messing up the dessert.

 

For a second the Cuban caught himself blatantly staring at Morpheus once the sugar had finally reached its syrupy state. He was supposed to say something but forgot. The loud beep of the oven broke his concentration, startling him into nervous action. "Alright, great! Um, pour the sugar syrup on that dish I put out, the big flat one, and make sure it evenly coats it. After you do that, I'll pour what I whisked up on," he said hurriedly, grinning.

[LoneDigger]

Phobia hissed in annoyance anytime the two men would brush against each other and cause his little spot to shake like a miniature earthquake.

He really didn't appreciate all the semi flirting going on between the two, not even that it was what Phobe knew it was, he was blind to love or any positive emotion, but it still nagged him like an itch and he just happened to be a creature with no limbs to scratch it. Bummer.

Sure his older brother was the bringer of sweet dreams, but Goddamn if this was turning into a wet one. He'd never seen Sandman acting so ridiculous, now he was just bumping into the Cuban on purpose, what a dirty playing bastard!

 

Morpheus was also grinning and blushing, trying to pay attention to his job but finding it hard. Usually with magic you could just whip up something in a second, but in this dream was a sense of reality, that making the dessert took time and following the right steps. Was this really how mortals lived every day? It would seem kind of boring, but yet he was not unamused. In fact the humanity of it all was very... interesting and somehow warm.

 

He carefully started to pour the butter and sugar mixture into the pan, and right then Phobe decided to be a pain by slithering against his neck, causing his hand to falter.

 

"Stop! It tickles!"

 

He snickered, trying to sound the least bit angry but he was too chipper.

[brinary]

The sugar drizzled a little bit off center, dropping on the counter, but it didn't bother him any. Watching Morpheus laugh and be so chipper was never something that'd bother him. As the brothers went back and forth, Yusnavi grinned and poured the concoction onto the sugar plate.

 

He had to maneuver around the giggling dreammaster to get the aluminum foil. But once it was retrieved, he pulled out a large enough piece to encompass the entire dish and covered it up neatly, crinkling it underneath and along the edge of the plate. Sliding it into the oven, Yusnavi turned to Morpheus turned his attention to the chicken. With as much condensation that'd been built up, the meat was definitely ready.

 

When he pulled the pan off, steam fanned out like a grateful sigh- with it, the delicious smell of seasoned chicken. Yusnavi turned the stove top off and got a knife to cut a tiny chunk off for Phoebe. Stabbing it with the end of the blade, he turned to face the two again. "Alright, here it is. Tell me if you like it," he offered as the piece of chicken hang dangling for the nightmare snake's consumption.

[LoneDigger]

The snake's tongue flicked out again to taste the scent that was wafting off the piece of chicken in front of him, deciding it smelled good enough to eat his tiny jaw unhinged and his whole head clamped around the piece of chicken, slowly swallowing it down.

He seemed to be enjoying himself, or at least how much a snake could look to be content.

 

Sandman snickered softly,

 

"I think he would say that it was to his liking."

[brinary]

"Well, with that out of the way," Yusnavi started to plate the chicken, cutting it into small portions for Phoebe's pitless stomach, "he can enjoy dinner. And we'll settle for dessert, I guess." He set the plate on the table for the snake and leaned against the counter with a grin. The house felt so warm now, with the oven cooking up a delicious dessert, and the two brothers contented and happy.

 

Yusnavi was going to head for the couch when he tripped- over what, no clue- but never fell. Instead it felt like a gust of air suspended him as he crashed through the floor, feeling a tight separation between him and the world he'd just been inhabiting. The two dream creatures were still above him but on the other side of a pane of glass, and no matter how much the Cuban tried to claw for it, reach for it, it was unyielding.

 

Snapping his eyes open, he sucked in the air around him, hands and voices easing him. He was pushed down into a hospital bed- a real one this time he could feel it- as his aunt smoothed his hair down.

 

Tears were in her eyes as she whispered to him their concerns. After slipping into the trance, Yusnavi had knocked out cold and five minutes of unresponsiveness had the paramedics called. Along the way his heart suddenly went under, too, slowing until just two minutes ago when they had to shock it alive. They were all so worried. They were all so sorry. Yusnavi didn't know what to say, taking the tearful hug with barely a murmur as he tried to resettle in his brain.

[LoneDigger]

Pathetic.

 

Was the first thought that came to the psychologist's mind as he stepped on the scene. He was a doctor in many respects, but that still didn't make him far from a bad person.

He honestly shouldn't have even been in this field, but why did it matter how he really was when on the outside so many deemed him as one of the best doctor's of his kind? Renowned for his successful, but highly controversial treatments when it came to all kinds of cures for his various patients. Or as he secretly called them his little lab rats, or sometimes useless waste of space.

 

The doctor was pale skinned and probably in his forties, but he looked good. Handsome even. His brown hair had just barely started to show hints of grey and he had just a fade of a stubble around his face. His eyes were a forest green and held a look of intelligence to them. He didn't look like a bad man at all, but looks can be very deceiving.

 

The man stood back for awhile as other doctors and staff, not to mention the patient's family was swarming around his bed like a bunch of bees and he just waited patiently for his turn to speak to Yusnavi.

 

He smiled as he introduced himself and gave him a handshake. Though it still seemed the other was a bit out of it. He wasn't sure how much of this was all going through right now.

 

"Something on your mind? Or perhaps you are just understandably a bit tired."

[brinary]

The nurses brought him water because he could barely speak, air only rubbing against an incredibly dry throat. It felt like he rubbed his own vocal chords raw. As the woman lifted it to his lips to assist him in drinking, his aunt had her hand on the back of his head to guide him. Stretching his neck was painful but necessary; it felt like his body didn't remember how to work for the first few minutes of his being awake.

 

They let him lay back down and Dell took in a slow breath. This was really reality, with bright hospital lights and the window covered with its blinds, the cleaner. His body felt so sore and his chest-- it felt like he'd a been put into a full body blood pressure sleeve and it was just beginning to release from its cramping assessment.

 

But he was alive. He should be grateful. Knocked clean out like that with his heart going full stop? Not many people could come back from such a state that seemed so deeply gone, and not without a few negative effects even so. When people finally began to step back and the hospital's staff ushered his family members to the side- probably to discuss policies on how many people to a room there could be- was when Dell became aware of the other presence.

 

Dell could tell his type from miles off. He'd met a great dell of psychologists and doctors and psychiatrists when he'd put himself in the hospital. There was a bolt of distrust that never went away; even after having mostly positive experiences with medical professionals, it was a bad habit Dell couldn't shake. Hand slightly limp, he tried to straighten himself out in bed, look more dignified.

 

"Hi-- hgm, mm-." He cleared his throat and had more water where it had been left on the rolling tray. Rubbing his neck he continued. "Um, I'm just out of it I guess... Bit of a dizzying return to reality. Are you my appointed uh, overlooker or something?"

[LoneDigger]

"I'm a psychologist, actually... I've dealt with cases similar to yours with much success and I'm here to help you."

 

The man smiled easily, but the action was automatic by now. There was really nothing to be cheerful about, but it was rude not to act pleasant. Especially when first introducing yourself to a new patient.

 

"Please don't push yourself too much right now."

 

He added when he noticed that the other was trying to sit up properly. Not even he expected him to do that much, especially not after being brought back from the brink.

[brinary]

Dell brushed off the concern and pleasantries with a small smile of his own, shrugging. It was less vulnerable when he was like this. Carefully popping the bones of his hands, he marveled at the IV as he spoke. "I've heard that before, you know." When he looked up again, his gaze was sympathetic.

 

"I'm sure they've already given you my hospital records, notes from former residences and their doctors there. I had therapy," Dell continued with a stiff shake of his head. "It never worked out. I think that it's best if I just focus on recovering here and going back home."

 

He truthfully didn't know if he could do another stint in a hospital under the scrutiny and sympathy of strangers. After discovering so much and becoming so comfortable in his own unconscious, meeting the two brothers, he didn't know how he could return to a world of convincing himself that everything was a delusion. That all it took was hard work and a strong mental fortitude built up over multiple sessions to finally function normally.

 

The truth was right there. Had spoken with him, helped him cook. He wanted to go back and see it again.

[LoneDigger]

"It hasn't been decided what is best for you yet. But I can assure you that whatever is determined for your new treatment will be the right thing in the end."

 

The doctor replied just as pleasantly, but underneath the surface he was very apathetic. How could he pretend to care when he had already been through this many times before with just as many delusional patients?

Though he was not irked because there had never been a case he hadn't dealt with. His methods were unconventional at times, but they yielded the best results for those without other options.

 

The doctor was sure that Dell would not be any more challenging than any of the others had been, and if he were then it would be a fun little challenge.

[brinary]

"I've heard that before, too."

 

Dell looked unconvinced and went for another drink of his water. It was this frustrating battle again. Going against a self-assured regular old somebody was one thing but the doctors, nurses, and other forms of medical personnel? Especially those who held themselves so high? Please. It was like speaking with stones in his mouth- the words might as well be incomprehensible.

 

Sighing, he looked back at the doctor with the niceties dropping from his expression. Now he was just tired and a little agitated. "Alright. You can ready whatever scientific journal you have a spare of for my case and try what other hospitals already haven't tried. I'm sure that you will be the one and only person who will break past past difficulties, and even have some sort of special treatment or another named after you," he said with a new blandness. He let himself lay back and closed his eyes with another dissatisfied grimace. "Maybe even a school on a fancy university college. Charge upwards 200 dollars for your analyses. Whatever. Go ham."

[LoneDigger]

"You can say what you really think. Nothing will be held against you for being honest."

 

His patients had said it all before, a lot of them hated his guts. But usually the more they did, the better their treatment worked ironically.

But seeing as Dell was already deciding to be more blunt only made the doctor all the more pleased as he absentmindedly played with the pen between his fingers that was supposed to be for taking notes down, but there was no need for that.

 

"That... won't be necessary."

 

...

 

Meanwhile somewhere in another dream Morpheus was laying in a field of flowers with his face up to the sky, the clouds were almost pink in the dusky lighting and reminded him of cotton candy. His thoughts seemed to drift with the clouds, and despite the peaceful scenery he began to feel a faint sense of dread... it was such a foreign feeling, one usually only reserved for his brother, but yet he worried for Dell. Why?

[brinary]

Dell grit his teeth and fought down a reply just clawing at his throat. Taking a deep breath, he rested more comfortably- albeit tense again from mounting frustration. "Great. Then we don't have anything more to discuss, right?" He was ready to begin another cycle of clinical insomnia. No, that was a lie. He wasn't ready- in fact he would have greatly preferred if he was back in his dreams with Morpheus and his brother, idly cooking and feeling warm, feeling alive for the first time in what tended to seem like ages. To have another near fatal loss of consciousness. To die during more tests.

 

It wasn't the best mindset to have but after countless years of being guineapigged and set free, Dell was tired of it. And of the pasty hospital food he had to be bought, because the workers were too strict on how spices could affect his diet. Of the forced diets and meal plans to see if raising one thing could help another, or if one plummeting factor hits the rock bottom, if his system will fully reset and right itself.

 

He was tired of all of that.

 

All he wanted to do was sleep, now. He wanted to remember what it was like- to be well-rested. But he was grimacing at the bars around his bed and at the pristine white and peach walls of his new "room" instead, resigned to having to undergo another rigorous amount of tests that went nowhere.