At first it was exhilarating. A different dream every night, a different dreamer. He swam in foreign seas, water warm as sunlight, and flew through the stardust of far-flung galaxies. He was a sunflower seed in a sea of bent orange, and a silver cloud in a cobalt sky. Once they just sat beneath a gnarled tree, him and the dreamer, and let an ancient breeze pass them by.
Sometimes he fought-- sometimes he died-- sometimes he fell in love or straight through the fabric of the dream and into the dark, desolate expanses of the mind. There were tears, and laughter, and many miles of silence. Endless new sights, scents, smells, all his for the sensing.
Night after night he dipped into his magic, and like any other drug there were side effects. Most days he could hardly keep his eyes open, he was so spent from the dreaming. And for a while, he managed. The work he did typically did not require much attention-- pulling carts back and forth across the city, tilling lavish, sprawling gardens in the high quarter, other things he could practically do with his eyes closed. But it was festival season and he was expected to work all of them, so for at least a few nights he needed sleep. Proper sleep.
Of course, the gods would not give him that.
He’s blinking dumbly, hardly aware of where he is when the iron of the dreamer’s voice slides harmlessly over his skin. “How did you get here?”
First he looks at the mare, coiled like a snake, proud, fierce and, perhaps he reaches too far, a little lonely, and he thinks to himself “dangerous, that one.” Then he turns to look behind him, as if there might be an answer hidden between marble columns and shadow. There isn’t. He turns back to the dreamer with a shrug. “You left the door open.” The words are faintly accusational, tongue lingering on the you with a cheekiness he would never exhibit in the waking world.
The bay glances at the cavern around him, taking in the chipped columns, flaking paint, dusty floor. It smells like absence-- like stale time-- and soot. All he wanted tonight was restful sleep... Instead he’s caught in someone’s dream, and it’s not even a pleasant one. He sighs heavily.
“Nice place.” Well aren’t we a tart little cherry tonight? “What terrible thing did you do to end up here?” As he peers into the darkness above, the halo of light around him grows brighter, brighter, brighter until he sees the outline of the vaulted ceiling. Escape would not be so easy as growing wings and flying away. He sighs again, twice as heavy as before, and the light around him quickly dims.
