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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 22

Chapters: 22/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Your wonderful vacation in the Dreaming came to an end as Morpheus bestowed gifts and boundless love. Upon arriving at Cape Kennedy, you learned that Lyta's child had already been born. Subtle changes had occurred in everyone's lives, unexpected transformations altering their paths forever. You, on the other hand, faced a tumultuous return to work, grappling with severe physical fatigue back in London.

Author's note: Hello! I hope you guys have been well. Here's another lengthy update for you. I recently realized that in the previous chapter, the name the Reader gave to the deer—Astra—is the same as the little girl Johanna tried to save and lost. This was initially coincidental, as I couldn't recall her name at all. However, it sparked a nice idea that I'll explain towards the end of the story. I didn't want to leave anything to chance, and since the name felt fitting, changing it seemed inappropriate considering all the research I put into it. Instead, I've found a clever way to explain this "glitch" in the narrative. It's not something huge plot-wise, just something that will justify the repeated name.

Now, this chapter delves deeper into the lore of Cape Kennedy's side characters, all of which I've created myself. I wanted to explore a few specific aspects here, as things might become a bit chaotic/dramatic in the next update. I need to ensure I've covered everything thoroughly.

Also, I'm currently revising the first chapters, improving the wording and adding some enrichment. While the story itself will remain unchanged, I aim to make it sound consistent and cohesive from start to finish. After returning to writing in 2022, I've dedicated time to studying and practicing, which has influenced the story's progression. It's hard to believe this fic will be two years old in December!

(The upgraded chapters haven't been uploaded yet. I'll edit each one as soon as they're prepared and ready for posting.)

Gazing at the magnificent Dreaming scenery before you, you heaved a sigh of displeasure. You were fully prepared—though not emotionally ready—to return to Cape Kennedy and depart from the enchanting realm of dreams.

It was absurd, really. You could visit Morpheus's domain every night in your dreams, and he'd even invited you to return physically anytime in the future. There was no logical reason for such despondency; this wasn't a permanent goodbye, after all.

Yet, as you contemplated going back to your normal life, a nagging feeling deep in your consciousness reminded you of the Dreaming's importance to your soul. Leaving it behind felt like bidding farewell to the most beautiful vacation of your life, your heart already aching for it before you'd even left.

Morpheus's arrival heralded your imminent exit from his world. As you turned to greet him, your eyes were drawn to a wooden box nestled in the crook of his right arm. Its intricate design lent it a substantial appearance, adorned with golden decorations reminiscent of your chamber's style and Morpheus' preference.

Curiously, you asked, "What is that?"

He stepped forward, cradling the box in his hands as he examined it. "This is a gift I have prepared for you."

"Another gift? Morpheus, you're truly being too generous."

He smiled, drawing closer to you. "You need only ask, and it shall be yours. All that you long for."

Overcome by a fresh surge of affection for this extraordinary being whom you cherished above all else, you gently cradled his face in your hands and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender, yet laced with unmistakable determination. "And here I thought nothing could top last night's surprise."

You leaned in for another kiss, finding yourself unable to stop, lost in the moment with the man from whom you could scarcely tear yourself away. Morpheus seemed equally content, returning your kisses with matching fervor until you were both satisfied.

"Do you not you want to see it?" he asked teasingly.

Clearing your throat, you reluctantly detached yourself, taking a deep breath. "Yes, of course."

Instead of opening the box himself, he offered it to you expectantly. You took it with extreme care, almost afraid it might slip from your grasp and shatter. As you held it, you were surprised by how light it felt compared to its sturdy exterior. When you unlatched the front lock, a warm pulse of power emanated from it, tingling your fingertips and running down your spine.

You lifted the lid, revealing the contents nestled on a black velvet cushion. Your eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before you: a luminous pearl-white moonflower that glowed like a living lantern, a palm-sized amethyst crystal of the deepest, most mesmerizing purple, a small glass vial filled with sand— its cap tightly sealed with a thin cord, and a golden bangle that looked tailor-made for your wrist, its surface embellished with tiny, star-shaped crystals that glimmered brilliantly in the light.

"This blossom shall retain its ethereal beauty, forever in bloom, defying the laws of mortality even as it graces the realm of the Waking," he explained. "The amethyst, a stone of grounding, shall grant immediate solace upon your touch."

"What about the sand?”

"This sand, harvested from the very essence of your Dreamland, bears the same properties as that which resides within my pouch. It is a fragment of your dreams made tangible."

Morpheus's sand, granted to you as a gift…?

"Can I really accept this? Your sand is such a vital source of your power."

"Though but a mere fragment, I am confident in your discretion to safeguard it from unworthy hands."

"That goes without saying. I'll guard it with my life."

He raised his hand, gently brushing the box and allowing his fingers to meet yours in the process. "I have placed tokens of my devotion to you in this vessel of memories, eternal artifacts that shall evoke recollections of your stay in this realm."

Morpheus continued to surpass your expectations effortlessly, offering gift after gift without expecting anything in return. His boundless generosity left you feeling humbled and almost insignificant in comparison.

The bangle needed no introduction. Its aesthetic perfectly complemented the starry theme of the Dreaming while matching the bracelet your mother had given you. As you admired it, you eagerly anticipated wearing them together.

"This is beautiful," you whispered, gently closing the box and caressing its ornate surface. "Thank you, Morpheus. This means the world to me."

“Should you wish for anything else, I will provide it for you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's only one thing I'd love to bring home with me, but that's not allowed."

As you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his cool ones, Morpheus immediately grasped your meaning and responded with a subtle smile. "I shall be with you always, my love."

“I know.”

"Are you ready, my love?" Morpheus asked gently.

“No.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he gazed at you with affectionate amusement. "Y/N…"

"Sorry, I'm kidding. Well, sort of. Maybe. Not really. But yes, I am ready."

Clutching the strap of your bag, you awaited Morpheus's magic. He gathered you in his embrace, his forehead gently touching yours as he closed his eyes, yours following suit instinctively. A gust of wind tousled your hair, accompanied by the soft swoosh of rising sand. You sensed your surroundings change, the Dreaming gradually fading into the distance, yet remaining forever tethered to you by an invisible thread.

As you remained motionless with your eyes shut tight, Morpheus called your name in a low, velvety voice. "Y/N."

“Mh?”

"We have arrived in the Waking World."

The familiar scents of Florida's natural environment and the subtle shift in ambient light confirmed your return to Cape Kennedy. Still, you found it difficult to release your hold on him, struggling to accept that the most unforgettable week of your life had come to an end.

It was childish, you reasoned, considering how much work awaited you in your waking life. You weren't truly separating from Morpheus or the Dreaming, but a part of you wondered if you could ever truly balance your existence between these two worlds, or if you were inextricably tied to just your own.

You were a mortal connected to an Endless being, with time's relentless march ever-present. Could you truly hope to make the Dreaming your permanent abode?

His lips grazed your cheek, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. "Do you intend to stand here indefinitely?"

“If I do, will you take me back?”

He tenderly caressed your jawline, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "My love, my heart longs to keep you eternally in my embrace. If only I could yield to such selfishness.”

With a resigned sigh, you finally opened your eyes to meet his countenance. "You could. I wouldn't complain."

He shook his head gently. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Everything." One hand clutched the memory box, while the other trailed along his chest, settling on his covered collarbones. "But I understand you have vital duties, as do I with my own responsibilities."

"Thank you, Y/N, for allowing me to bring you into my realm. Your devotion for the Dreaming is immeasurable, I cherish it with all that I am."

"The Dreaming is you," you said with a smile. "How could I not adore it?"

Every word you spoke to him, so honest and filled with humanity's most precious light, never failed to make him—the Lord of Dreams, an ever-darker creature—happier than he ever thought he deserved to be.

"I must leave you now, my love. Take heart, for I will seek you in your dreams.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. "I love you, Morpheus. You know that, don't you?"

"I do. And my love for you, my dear, transcends the very fabric of existence, encompassing all realms, both dreamt and waking."

He pulled you close for one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly letting you go.

"Ever the poet," you remarked with a grin. "Just one of the countless things I like about you."

"Are you attempting to keep me here with you?"

“Is it working?”

He let out a soft chuckle. "I am afraid not. But wherever you go, I will follow."

"That's enough, I suppose."

For a moment longer, you looked deeply into each other's eyes as a wordless understanding passed between you. Then, Morpheus's sand reappeared, rising from the ground at his feet and gradually swirling around his form. You stepped back, giving his powers room to work, as a cloud of grains swallowed him completely. In an instant, the sand twirled and dissipated, leaving no trace of Morpheus as he vanished back to his realm.

You exhaled, feeling a complex blend of satisfaction and wistful melancholy.

Hal's B&B stood just a few feet away. As you retrieved your phone from your bag and powered it on, you were astonished to find that barely a few hours had passed since leaving the hotel in Georgia. Morpheus had mentioned that time flowed differently in the Dreaming, but it was still mind-boggling to realize you'd spent seven days in his company, only to essentially travel back in time.

With a final loving glance at the box, you carefully tucked it into your bag and set off. The house's door stood unlocked, and as you entered, Hal's voice greeted you warmly as soon as you crossed the threshold.

"Welcome back!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "How was the Cereal Convention? I heard it was brimming with fascinating events."

If only he knew the mayhem you had witnessed there. "Fascinating? That doesn't even begin to describe it.".

You wondered if the news had reported anything about the man who had taken his own life in the car, or if they had even remotely mentioned the rest of the cult, now cursed by Morpheus to a lifetime of regrets.

"I bet," he said mischievously. "Rose told me you got quite a pleasant surprise."

You blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Come now, no need to be coy, sweetheart. You know secrets don't stay hidden for long in this house."

You realized Rose must have concocted a story to account for your absence. Whatever tale she had spun, you found yourself at a loss for how to navigate this unexpected situation.

“Well…”

"Your boyfriend showed up unexpectedly to pick you up, didn’t he? Now that's what I call romantic!"

Oh.

You had to admit, that wasn't entirely inaccurate. "You've caught me red-handed."

He graciously helped you remove your jacket as you clutched your bag tightly, guarding it as if it contained your most precious possessions, which couldn't be nearer to the truth.

"No wonder you look radiant. I'd recognize that glow anywhere."

"What can I say? He has a flair for dramatic appearances."

As you entered the dining room, you found only Chantal and Zelda at the table, their brunch plates cleared. An unusual hush blanketed the house, a stark departure from its typical bustling energy.

“Hey girls.”

“Good morning, Y/N,” Chantal replied cordially. "Zelda says hello as well."

"Where's everyone else? Have they not risen yet?"

Hal joined them, gesturing invitingly towards an empty chair. "Ah, you've missed quite a bit. You won't believe what's happened."

Taking a seat beside him at the table, you narrowed your eyes. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, no, quite the opposite. You see... it's about Lyta; she's given birth."

Your jaw dropped so suddenly that you half-expected it to clatter onto the floor. How could Lyta have delivered her baby so quickly? Could her time with her husband in the Dreaming have stretched longer, similar to your own experience with the King of Dreams?

“What…?”

"I know. Crazy, right? Did you even know she was pregnant? I don't think Rose ever noticed either."

"I didn't," you replied. "It's generally not something you easily miss... though, I've read about cryptic pregnancies before.”

"Yes, but can a belly grow that big overnight? It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen lately, but…"

You pursed your lips, wracking your brain for a plausible explanation for such an extraordinary occurrence. Yet, try as you might, no rational justification presented itself.

"Rose and Jed accompanied Barbie and Ken to the hospital," Chantal interjected.

"We're heading there in a couple of hours,” Hal said. “Are you free? You're welcome to come with us."

You agreed without hesitation. "Absolutely. I've got plenty of time before my next appointment with Andrew, so I'm in."

"Great! We're all eager to meet the little one."

Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your mind, you chose to set aside your confusion. There was little point in fixating on inexplicable events, especially since you'd come to understand that the Dreaming's magic and uniqueness often transcended conventional reasoning.

Eager to keep your mind occupied, you insisted on helping Hal with the cleaning, brushing aside his protests. After your ample rest, staying active appealed to you more than idling about in the living room. As he washed the dishes, you meticulously dried the tableware and set everything neatly in its place. Hal hummed random songs intermittently, his voice filling the kitchen with cheerfulness and positivity.

"So, this boyfriend of yours. Does he travel often?" Hal inquired, passing you a freshly washed glass.

"Mm, you could say he's practically omnipresent," you replied with a knowing smile.

"He must have quite an important job," Hal observed, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"It's vital, indeed. His work shapes the very fabric of our existence."

Realizing you had inadvertently revealed more than intended, you bit your tongue. Fortunately, Hal didn't seem inclined to pry further.

"I admire people like that. Those who can truly change the world."

"You have that power too, in your own way."

"I'm not so sure about that," Hal replied modestly. "Though I must admit, I'm finally considering selling this place."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're going to sell your grandmother's house?"

Hal chuckled. "I've been thinking; dreams can really change your perspective. No matter how bizarre they get."

You gave his upper arm a friendly squeeze. "Whatever path you choose, I'm confident it'll be the right one for you."

"I haven't made any final decisions yet, but I'm now open to giving my career a real shot. Who knows? Maybe next year you'll hear my name as the greatest Broadway performer of all time."

"I can absolutely see that happening. You shine on stage, Hal. I'm sure I've mentioned that before."

The conversation flowed naturally, weaving through various topics, from Hal's future aspirations to your creative pursuits and life in London. Amidst the discussion, he brought up the unusual dream experience that he and the others had collectively undergone, featuring Rose and the Vortex in action. Remarkably, they all vividly recalled the events leading up to Morpheus's attempt to halt Rose's power, but none of them could adequately describe or explain why—or how—this dream had manifested for all of them at once.

His willingness to openly discuss the event with you, regardless of your apparent status as an outsider and his unawareness of your actual involvement, left you astounded. Although he intentionally kept his descriptions vague, they unanimously agreed that Rose had been rather special since her arrival.

You refrained from confirming or denying it. While the truth was irrefutable, you were reluctant to raise further questions about a girl who had already endured so much on her own.

The dream had left an indelible mark on each of them, sparking a self-reflection and personal development. Apparently, cracks had begun to show in Barbie and Ken's relationship, and Hal was confident it was only a matter of time before it crumbled completely. This revelation didn't surprise you, as you'd harbored reservations about Ken from your very first encounter.

As the late morning wore on, you carved out a private moment in your room. Seated on the bed, you gazed at Morpheus's gifts, a broad smile illuminating your face and a bright sparkle dancing in your eyes. You picked up the golden bangle, turning it over in your hands to look at its minimalist design. Despite its simplicity, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you'd ever seen, with its diamond-like stars twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight. As you slipped it onto your wrist, you marveled at its perfect fit, neither too loose nor too tight. It sat snugly against your skin, complementing your mother's leafy bracelet perfectly, as if it were crafted specifically for this pairing. Considering Morpheus's particular attention to detail regarding your appearance, you realized that this harmonious combination was no accident, but rather a deliberate choice on his part.

You missed him deeply, craving his presence with an intensity that eclipsed even your need for breath. It was natural, given that you had been virtually inseparable during your time together, except for the brief absences he was compelled to make.

Still, you found yourself contemplating your relationship from a new angle, considering the prospect of deepening your bond with him. Was it even possible for a mortal to unite in marriage with an Endless?

Theoretically, given the universal rule that barred Nada from being his lover, you might conclude the answer was no. Nevertheless, Morpheus had speculated that your Goddess DNA could have shielded you from the dreadful fate his ex had endured as punishment for her transgression.

Ruminating on the matter excessively would only result in mental fatigue.

Shortly thereafter, you journeyed to the hospital with Hal, Chantal, and Zelda, feeling strangely fidgety since leaving the house. You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden unease, yet you were convinced it wasn't tied to any specific ill omen. There was simply an odd, indecipherable voice in the recesses of your mind, somehow linked to Lyta and the newborn child. You sensed that the baby's unusual conception, coupled with the Dreaming's essence flowing through its small body, had heightened your innate sensitivity, likely stemming from your deep affinity with Morpheus's realm and the Dream King himself.

Upon arrival, you found Rose and Jed already visiting Lyta and her newborn son, while Barbie and Ken waited patiently in the lobby for their turn. Barbie's characteristic cheerfulness and signature smile masked an entirely different story lurking behind her eyes. Ken appeared oblivious to her distress, his nonchalant demeanor indicating either genuine ignorance or—more likely—a callous disregard for her feelings.

Men like him were utterly contemptible, nothing more than walking deceptions.

The door to Lyta's room creaked open, prompting Barbie to spring to her feet and stride forward, Ken trailing behind. Rose and Jed emerged from around the corner, looking refreshed; their nightmarish ordeals hadn't been enough to break their spirits.

“My turn!” Barbie chirped, her laughter bubbling up.

"Prepare yourself," Rose noted with a smile. "He's pretty cute."

Ken exchanged a playful, masculine handshake and fist bump with Jed. “Oh, we are ready.”

From your seated position, you caught a glimpse of Barbie vanishing around the corner. Her voice dropped drastically, taking on a serious and resentful tone. “Uh, it’s one at a time.”

Ken's face fell, and you couldn't suppress a flicker of satisfaction. Bravo, Barbie!

“Wha… Oh, come on. Babe! Baby, it was just a dream!”

Glancing at Hal, you noticed he was equally captivated by the unfolding drama. "See? I told you," he whispered.

"Do I really want to know what he's referring to?" You asked.

"Oh, that he was caught being literally blown by another woman in his car? No, I don't think you want to know."

Your jaw clenched instantly. "Well, I'll be damned."

Chantal and Zelda, as composed as ever, exuded the aura of gothic countesses in their distinctive black dresses and veils. You'd grown accustomed to their dark appearance, finding them both incredibly beautiful and sophisticated.

Rose and Jed joined you in the waiting room, the girl’s eyes meeting yours with a silent understanding.

“How are they doing?” Hal queried, adjusting his position in the chair.

“Great,” she answered. “The hospital’s releasing them tonight and then we’ll fly home tomorrow.”

“Oh, so soon?” Chantal exclaimed.

Indeed, it felt as if no time had passed since you first met Rose. You'd grown so attached to her that it seemed you'd known her for years, not mere days.

“To New Brunswick,” Hal concluded. “How far is that from New York?”

“Mm, less than an hour. Why?”

“I don’t know, I had this dream last night and now I’m thinking, what if I sell the house and move back?”

Evidently, Hal's indecision about his future plans had dissipated, and his mind was now set on a clear course of action.

Rose's eyes lit up with delight, while Zelda and Chantal exchanged a meaningful look. Words were superfluous between them; Zelda's face, though usually expressionless except for her shy smile, conveyed all her companion needed to know with subtle nuances that only Chantal could interpret.

“We’ll buy the house,” she declared.

A collective gasp of shock rippled through those present, with Hal himself rendered speechless by such an unexpected announcement. The initial bewilderment quickly gave way to joyful smiles as everyone recognized how perfectly all the pieces were falling into place.

Your heart swelled with joy as you beheld the radiant expressions adorning the faces around you, a sight that filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

As time wore on, Hal, Chantal, and Zelda took turns visiting Lyta and her unnamed newborn. Barbie's despondency had resurfaced, even as she tried to hide it from the others. Ken persistently badgered her to accept that he meant no harm, but any self-respecting woman would banish a man who dreamed of another straight to Lucifer's hell.

As you approached the vending machine for a drink, Rose excused herself and followed, clearly seeking a private conversation out of earshot from the rest of the group.

“Hey.”

"Hey," you answered with a warm smile. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. I'm still a bit shaken when I think about everything that happened, but... Jed's here with me. That's all that matters."

"He's adorable, by the way," you commented.

"You should've seen him when he was five."

You cracked open your favorite caffeinated beverage, offering Rose one as well. She declined with a shake of her head, her eyes fixed on her feet, revealing a nervousness about what she wanted to say.

When she remained silent, you broke the awkward moment. "Thank you for covering for me," you said gratefully. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I figured they'd ask where you went. I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."

"I must say, you're quite talented when it comes to coming up with excuses on the spot."

Rose laughed softly. "It wasn't easy. I also had to tell them Gilbert returned to his country due to an "urgent family matter."”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

You leaned against the vending machine, sipping your drink as another silence settled between you. Rose crossed her arms, shifting restlessly with her foot—an anxious tic that only accentuated her growing discomfort.

You sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Rose, it's okay. Whatever you want to ask me, go ahead."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

You shook your head reassuringly. "It's fine, really. I imagine you have quite a few questions."

"I hope I'm not overstepping, but... is there something going on between you and Lord Morpheus?"

While the question didn't catch you off guard, you considered your options. You could have lied, keeping your relationship with the Endless private and shielding your love from potential judgment. Rose had likely witnessed only the darkness surrounding the Lord of Dreams, unaware of the heart of gold it concealed; a heart heavily scarred from suffering and betrayal.

Ultimately, you decided against it.

A faint smile played on your lips. "Yes, Rose. We are together."

"Oh. Wow, I... I had a feeling, but..."

"You didn't want to jump to conclusions."

“Yeah.”She paused, collecting her thoughts. “It’s just… there's so much I don't understand. When Dream said Jed and I are ‘Children of the Endless’, what did he even mean?"

How could you explain it to her, considering her great-grandfather was one of the cruelest entities in the entire universe, willing to callously manipulate their own sibling and any mortal they came across?

"Is it related to the golden-eyed man Unity saw in her dreams?"

"I'm afraid I can't provide a definitive answer to that," you confessed, feigning ignorance. "In a way, you and your brother are very special, Rose. That’s all I know.”

She mulled over your words, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation, yet accepting it as sufficient for her current needs.

"He's not… really that bad, is he? Morpheus."

“No. He’s not.”

"I know he didn't really want to kill me. I was damaging his world without even knowing what I was doing. It was all my fault to begin with."

You gently touched her elbow, your hand warm against her skin. "You didn't ask to become a Vortex, it was just an unexpected twist of fate you didn't deserve."

"Yes, but I still hurt my friends. Lyta, Hector... even Jed, Hal, everyone around me."

Your hand slid along her wrist as you took her hand in yours. "It was the Vortex. Not you."

"But I was the Vortex. When Dream took Hector, I hated him. I thought he was a monster. Lyta was suffering, and I blamed him for it."

“And now?”

She hesitated, contemplating her response. "Now… I don't, really. It was harsh, but I was the one who set all this in motion. He did what he had to, I guess."

Your smile widened. “Rose…”

"And Unity," she continued. "She gave her life just to save me."

The pain she endured defied consolation, and a persistent guilt would likely shadow her for the foreseeable future.

"She was happy, you know," you revealed. "And very proud of you."

“Unity…?”

"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling right now. The trauma you've endured is not something that can be easily erased. But I can tell you this: your great-grandmother is at peace.She made her sacrifice for you without any regrets.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Having weathered numerous losses throughout her life, Rose had honed the ability to remain resilient in most situations, a strength she maintained not only for herself but also for those she held dear.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Her voice quivered, and you pulled her into a comforting hug. She gratefully melted into your embrace, finding solace in the warmth she could no longer receive from her mother's arms.

“You’re welcome, Rosie.”

Lyta's baby was a true delight, innocent and tiny, with cheeks so soft they resembled the most delicate confection. You could feel the Dreaming's traces on the infant, yet to anyone else, he appeared perfectly human. The moment you drew closer, his little hand instinctively grasped your finger, awakening an unexpected maternal, protective instinct in you. Lyta simply smiled, observing how you'd make a wonderful mother someday, a comment you met with a nervous laugh.

The strange gut discomfort you felt vanished as soon as you left the hospital. You had the impression that something about Lyta was not ordinary, but you couldn't quite discern what it meant. Perhaps it was a consequence of your travel between the Dreaming and the Waking World, causing unusual perceptions as you readjusted.

That evening, Lyta and her newborn son were discharged as expected. While Hal finalized the house sale with Chantal and Zelda, you joined the group for a pleasant conversation in the living room, idly toying with your new bracelet as you slid it up and down your wrist. You thoroughly enjoyed your time at the B&B, appreciating the company of wonderful people (with one notable exception) who helped brighten Lyta's mood. The loss of her husband had left an indelible mark, and you admired how everyone tactfully avoided the sensitive subject, refraining from asking questions about the baby's father.

Barbie looked somewhat distracted, her face less vibrant than usual, a subtle alteration that seemed to go unnoticed. She maintained a facade of joy and vivacity, barely interacting with Ken, who sat uncomfortably close to you on the couch. You felt urged to speak with her, but that would have to wait for a more appropriate time.

Despite the tragedies and misadventures he'd faced, Jed was an incredibly adaptable and optimistic kid. His face beamed with smiles, clearly overjoyed at being reunited with his beloved sister. At some point in the evening, you engaged in an enthusiastic discussion with him about popular superhero movies and comics. Rose playfully teased Jed about how, under Gault's influence, he had impersonated a Marvel-esque version of The Sandman. Her lighthearted comment drew genuine laughter from both of you, and Jed rolled his eyes, insisting he had been incredibly cool and powerful in that form.

As night fell, everyone retired to their rooms. Lyta excused herself first, cradling her precious newborn away from the adoring eyes. Rose followed shortly after, and Jed was offered the vacant attic room, formerly Fiddler's Green's quarters.

Sliding beneath the covers of a bed that wasn't the grand canopy in the Dreaming felt oddly unfamiliar to you. You longed for the soft caress of your enchanted nightgown, the mesmerizing sparkle of crystals, and the soothing ebb and flow of gradient waves on the walls. It seemed paradoxical to long for a place you visited nightly, yet a strange void persisted inside you, like an emptiness you couldn't quite articulate.

With heavy eyelids, you succumbed to slumber, hoping to find Morpheus awaiting your return in the realm of dreams.

You felt weightless, adrift in an ocean of billowing fabrics that obscured the path ahead. Wandering without direction, you pressed forward into the unknown. A distant cry pierced the air, beckoning you closer. As you continued, the fabrics parted, revealing a crib in the distance. The surroundings were hazy and barren, bathed in an ethereal, blue glow.

The more you walked, the farther the crib seemed to get. No matter how hard you tried to reach it, it was as if you were walking on an infinite treadmill. The child inside was whimpering, pleading for you to arrive.

You pressed on, yet the distance remained unchanged. Anxiety constricted your chest, making it hard to breathe, despite the absence of any visible threat.

Then the crib began to fade, enveloped by a soft, nebula-like cloud, vanishing into nothingness. You were left uncertain about what you had witnessed, wondering if the baby represented Lyta's son or simply acted as a subconscious symbol; perhaps indicating fresh starts and possibilities.

Unable to decipher its significance, you endeavored to interpret the dream's significance to no avail. As the vision continued, your consciousness gradually reasserted itself, and you immediately transitioned into an entirely new dreamscape.

You stood in an expansive, surreal forest where trees spiraled upward like great pillars, their trunks woven from shimmering threads of silver and dark purple. The sky above pulsed with colors you'd never seen before—streaks of emerald, amethyst, and soft coral flowing and colliding like auroras. A gentle mist blanketed the forest ground, and as you moved, flowers bloomed beneath your feet. With each step, you ventured deeper into the woods, where strange, beautiful creatures drifted past in the mist, unusual animals with translucent bodies and magical eyes. You felt at peace now, as if this place knew you, welcomed you.

Whatever the crib represented, it couldn't be anything sinister.

The fog lifted, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a figure nearby. From the shadows between the trees, Morpheus emerged, his presence both distinct and seamlessly integrated into the scenery. Clad in black that melded with the night's darkness, he seemed to carry the very stars in his eyes and attire. As he approached, the dream's colors intensified, responding to him like a lover's touch.

Your breath itched as he stopped before you, his gaze soft yet filled with an intensity that only Morpheus could hold. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing his cool hand. He took it gently, as though grazing something precious. The bracelet he gifted you gleamed golden alongside your mother's cuff.

"Your dreams grow more beautiful with each passing night, in ever more resplendent tapestries," he murmured, his voice resonating through the forest.

A smile lit your face, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you to bring you into his loving casing. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The dreamscape reacted again, a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees, sending petals into a soft dance around you.

"Every time I'm with you, I feel complete," you whispered.

Morpheus tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes softened with a tenderness that was becoming more frequent. "Then let this moment last for as long as you're asleep," he said, his lips meeting yours in a kiss as warm and infinite as the dream itself.

You cuddled against him, sinking into the tranquility and depth of your connection, as the environment continued to pulse with revitalizing energy.

As you parted, he held your face in his hands, his cerulean irises tracing your every feature as though etching this moment into his memory. "I am bound to you, in dreams and beyond," he uttered genty. "No place, nor time, can keep me from finding you."

"Never cease seeking me. Please."

"Never, my love. And you, forever call upon my name, through the realms of fantasy and waking.”

It was rather striking to reflect on how Rose and Lyta had arrived in Cape Kennedy as a pair and were now departing the B&B as a quartet, a poignant example of dreams' transformative power. Their journey exemplified how the seemingly impossible can indeed materialize into reality.

Hal assured he would join them once everything was properly settled and his belongings were packed, ready for the grand opening of a new live show; the next chapter of his life.

While you couldn't reveal to Rose the book she'd one day write, you encouraged her to pursue graduate school, confident in her potential for extraordinary accomplishments. Your time together had been brief, yet saying goodbye to her tugged at your heartstrings. What had begun as a simple work collaboration in Florida had flourished into something far more meaningful; you'd cultivated new friendships that you hoped would stand the test of time, enduring long after this unexpected adventure.

In the blink of an eye, the house suddenly felt much emptier.

Throughout the day, you noticed Barbie's conspicuous absence from the common areas, rarely catching a glimpse of her around the house. Ken mentioned that Barbie was feeling unwell and had decided to recuperate in their room. The situation raised suspicion, especially since Ken seemed more intent on hovering around you in the kitchen, attempting to engage you in unwelcome conversation. Oblivious to your signals, he disregarded your curt responses and clearly disinterested tone, persisting in his efforts at dialogue.

"You know, I was thinking, you haven't seen much of Cape Kennedy, have you? I could take you on a tour one of these days."

You froze with your cup of tea suspended midair, staring blankly at him as Hal cleared his throat.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have work commitments," you replied, your tone icy.

"Ah, yes, of course. But maybe I could, you know, offer you a ride after dinner one evening?"

You felt utterly disgusted, the tea suddenly losing its flavor in your mouth. Ken's partner was confined to their room, claiming to be ill. But here he was, attempting to flirt with you behind Barbie's back.

His behavior was reprehensible. You abandoned your drink, pouring it down the sink and hastily rinsing the mug.

"Oh! What about dining out? I know a lovely restaurant by the beach."

Ugh.

You considered answering with more excuses to make him desist, but you knew such tactics wouldn't deter a man like him. Ultimately, you decided that a razor-sharp response was your only way out.

"Look, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate your persistence. And believe me, he's not the forgiving type."

Ken's grin faltered, though he still tried to maintain his charm. "I was just—"

"You're asking me out while your girl is sick upstairs. How considerate of you."

Hal, clearly intrigued by the unfolding scene, became more attentive, his eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You may be accustomed to women fawning over you, but let me be crystal clear: I wouldn't consider someone like you even if you were the last man on Earth."

Ken stood frozen, his smile fixed and hollow, utterly speechless. He seemed incapable of formulating any coherent sentence, caught off guard by your blunt rejection.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning on your heel and striding away.

Without looking back, you left Ken to contemplate your rebuff as you climbed the stairs, the kitchen falling into a telling hush. There was only one pressing matter you wanted to address now: Barbie. If Ken was failing to provide the care and support she needed, perhaps a friendly visit could lift her spirits more effectively than her inconsiderate partner could.

You recognized that Ken's intentions weren't specifically malicious, but his casual fantasizing about other women and viewing dates outside his relationship as normal proved he was incapable of full commitment. How Barbie had managed to tolerate him for so long was incomprehensible, but you couldn't help admiring her patience.

You paused before her room, knocking softly a few times, and waited for a response that never came. Though you surmised she might be asleep, an intuition whispered otherwise.

"Barbie?" you called gently. "It's Y/N. Are you all right in there?"

Soft footsteps padded across the floor, followed by the click of the door's lock. As it swung open, Barbie showed up, looking visibly drained. Her face, devoid of its usual makeup, and her refined clothes replaced by simple pajamas, presented a notable difference from her typical polished appearance.

“Hey!”

Her forced glee hit you right in the chest, totally unconvincing, with puffy eyes revealing recent tears.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" You inquired again.

"Yeah! It's just a headache. Nothing serious!"

You exhaled softly, your brow furrowing with concern. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's nothing, really! I just need some rest," she insisted with another artificial grin, her voice wavering slightly.

"Barbie, I know I'm still relatively new to you, and you might not feel comfortable opening up to me. But if you need anything at all, even just a listening ear, I'm here for you."

She looked at you in silence, her veneer of cheerfulness intact but slowly crumbling. Her smile faded, lips curving downward as her head dropped in defeat. “Would you like to come in?”

Relieved, you nodded. "If I may."

“Sure.”

She stepped aside, inviting you in. As you entered, the door closed behind you, cocooning the two of you in privacy. Barbie walked to the rumpled bed and sat down, patting the spot in front of her with the familiarity of an old friend at a sleepover. On one of the nightstands, an empty mug stood sentinel beside a few untouched, stale cookies.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," you said, settling onto the mattress.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping at all.”

"What's wrong? I promise you, anything you say will remain confidential."

Barbie let out a chuckle that quickly morphed into a sniffle. "I feel like I can't confide in anyone. People would think I’m silly for even considering this."

You moved forward, tentatively placing your hand on hers. "It can't be foolish if it's keeping you locked into your room."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes welling up as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "Have you ever felt like you've lost something important, something that doesn't even exist?"

“What do you mean?”

She released a desperate laugh, a hysterical sound that bore no resemblance to genuine mirth. "I... I used to have this beautiful dream. I had many incredible friends, talking animals that cared for and protected me. Can you imagine?”

You offered an encouraging smile, listening attentively.

"My closest companion was Martin Tenbones, a creature resembling a giant dog... or whatever he was meant to be. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Not at all. I'm intrigued and would love to hear more about your dream world," you replied warmly.

"It's hard to put into words. It wasn't just a fantasy, it felt like another life. A place where I could be more than just 'Barbie', but finally myself."

"You're speaking about it in the past tense..."

Her tears flowed more freely. "I’m afraid I can’t dream about it anymore."

Oh…

"Last night, I had no dreams. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but I can tell that something has severed my connection to that world.”

Having witnessed your own dream beach reduced to an arid desert, you deeply empathized with Barbie's attachment to her personal subconscious place. Yet, you were fortunate to be with the Lord of Dreams, who could easily restore it to its original splendor, perhaps even enhance its beauty. Morpheus guided you through the Vortex's perils, extracting you from the Dreaming before your link to it could be irreparably damaged.

“I had a mission, something very important to do. And now I’m lost.”

“Barbie…”

"Ken wouldn't understand," she said with a hiccup. "He never does."

You squeezed her hand comfortingly, warmth spreading between your palms.

"I'm sorry. I told you this would sound stupid."

"Well, it's not," you replied with conviction. "As someone who understands the significance of dreams, I can tell you that your sadness is completely justified."

“Really…?”

"Yes. And please, forgive my frankness, but what do you see in a man like Ken?"

Her lower lip quivered as she wiped away her tears. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I thought we were perfect together, as ‘cliché as it can be, given our names."

You shrugged. "Names are just names. I doubt that's why you chose him."

"No. He made me feel special, loved… but I fear that was only a beautiful fairy tale. I knew he enjoyed flirting, but this? It’s just too much for me."

You hesitated to disclose Ken's invitation, fearing it would only exacerbate her distress. Considering her fragile emotional state, you couldn't bring yourself to be so insensitive.

"You deserve far better than what he's giving you. I can see that plain as day."

"I don't know. Maybe I set myself up for this. I should have seen the signs."

"We all make mistakes, we're only human. I've certainly had my share of faults in past relationships."

Barbie's lips quirked into a genuine smile, her first in a while. "Do you think I can find someone who'll treat me like a princess in the real world, too?"

"Not a princess. More like the magnificent queen you truly are."

Barbie chortled, and you joined in, feeling the atmosphere in the room finally lighten. "I mean it. You're beautiful, fun, sweet, and open to imaginative possibilities. You don't need a knight in shining armor, real princesses are perfectly capable of writing their own happy endings. Ken doesn't realize how lucky he is."

She swallowed hard, brushing away fresh tears with trembling hands.

"This is your life, Barbie, and I can't tell you what to do. I just hope you'll make the right choice for yourself. That guy's a perfect idiot, too immature to see how amazing you are."

As you stood from the bed, she sighed shakily, drawing her knees to her chest and curling into a ball. "Y/N… can I ask you something absurd?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I'll ever be able to dream again?"

As you opened the door, you glanced back at Barbie's huddled form. Without Morpheus' insight, you couldn't fathom the fate of dreamers severed from the Dreaming by the Vortex. Lacking this crucial knowledge, you found yourself unable to offer a concrete answer to alleviate her sorrow.

Nevertheless, your heart told you there was only one logical, compassionate answer.

“I’m sure of it.”

The moment you left her to her own reflections, Barbie silently opened the bedside table's drawer, rummaging for an object she had discreetly tucked between books. As she retrieved it, she stared at the rose quartz pendant in her hand, now cold and lifeless, its power inexorably spent.

She clutched the pendant to her chest, inhaling deeply before exhaling, her resolve crystallizing.

As your first week in Florida concluded, your collaboration with Andrew grew more intensive with each meeting. More briefs poured in, shaping the project's trajectory for its official launch. When the first prototypes emerged from the workshop, it became clear that additional revisions were necessary. You had to conced that some of your ideas hadn't translated from concept to physical materials as seamlessly as you'd hoped. Undeterred, you offered to refine the sketches, either by incorporating crucial missing elements or starting anew with concepts that seemed to spring effortlessly from your imagination. This time, Andrew's approval wasn't required; his expression alone conveyed that the newly sewn sets embodied the perfection he had envisioned.

Meanwhile, Ken avoided approaching you in the house, hanging his head like a scolded puppy and barely mumbling greetings in the mornings. The atmosphere grew tense as Barbie silently declared her breakup with him by moving out of their shared room and into Rose's and Lyta's vacant chamber. Unsurprisingly, Ken's futile efforts to win Barbie back were nothing short of ridiculous, every excuse failing spectacularly, as if he were hurling himself against an invisible, elastic barrier.

To compound matters, Hal—Ken's sole confidant—had finally summoned the courage to permanently leave. With newfound confidence, he was determined to reunite with Rose and her family, bolstered by his belief that he could make it on Broadway.

You had to admit, upon seeing Hal fully prepared with his suitcase and giant bag, he would likely be the person you'd miss the most in Cape Kennedy. Although Gilbert had quickly become your favorite (for reasons that now made much more sense), Hal had treated you like a best friend from the instant you emerged from Andrew's vehicle, seeing past your 'celebrity' status and addressing the authentic you with complete naturalness.

Moved by an irrepressible need to repay his kindness, you offered to create the perfect costume for his Dolly persona in the future, a gesture that made Hal's eyes sparkle with pure excitement. The prospect of wearing your design on stage made him feel like a star, and you eagerly anticipated seeing him perform for audiences worldwide.

As the days passed, the house grew more solitary, transforming into an unrecognizable place. Even Barbie decided to depart for New York by the tenth day of your stay, unwilling to endure Ken's omnipresence and compelled to rediscover herself through a new beginning. One by one, they were all witnessing their lives completely turned upside down, for better or worse, by the hand of Destiny. A fate that was clearly set in motion by the Vortex's influence, affecting their Waking World just as much as their dreams.

"Thank you, Y/N. You're a sweetheart," Barbie uttered gently, embracing you on the threshold. Her hug was so tight it nearly squeezed the breath from your lungs. "Let's keep in touch. I'd love to see you again sometime.”

"Absolutely," you said, gently rubbing her back. "Take good care of yourself, Barbie."

“You too.”

As the taxi pulled up, Barbie strode out of the house without a backward glance. Inside, Ken slumped on the couch, his face a portrait of total defeat. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had royally messed up, with no hope of mending the rift he had caused.

Barbie radiated a diva-like aura with her impeccably styled hair, flawless lipstick, and chic sunglasses that gave her the stunning look often adorning magazine covers. She waved at you, Chantal, and Zelda before entering the car, occupying the backseat with the grace of a regal swan. A large pink pendant hung from her neck, one she had never worn before, glistening and glowing under the sun.

In fact, it shimmered more brilliantly than any ordinary gemstone, causing your own necklace to suddenly warm against your skin. Before you could take a closer look, Barbie was gone, leaving her former home behind for an uncertain future.

You shook your head, dismissing that persistent feeling of déjà vu. Your attachment to the Dreaming was simply playing tricks on your mind, causing you to see things that weren't actually there.

Probably.

During your final days in Florida, you toiled relentlessly at Andrew's workshop, scarcely finding time to return to the B&B for rest. Chantal and Zelda seemed now solitary figures, quietly enjoying their drinks in the hushed house. Ken often disappeared into town, presumably in pursuit of a new conquest to seek solace in new companionship. Yet they looked unperturbed, their sweet smiles ever-present and nary a complaint voiced.

While they genuinely missed their friends, Chantal and Zelda were self-sufficient women who found complete contentment in each other's company.

On the eve of your return to London, you had another vivid dream. While the recurring image of a newborn crying in an empty, bluish space persisted, your nightly visits to the Dreaming were becoming increasingly lifelike.

Morpheus accompanied you on most of your explorations, walking beside you or standing amidst the evocative landscapes of his realm. He always welcomed you with the warmest expression the Lord of Dreams could muster, his subtle smiles illuminating his face at your arrival.

After much hesitation, you finally broached the subject with Morpheus about Barbie and how the Vortex had removed her from the Dreaming.

"Is there anything you can do to help her?"

Morpheus shook his head, giving you a thoughtful but firm response, rooted in his views on the purpose and temporality of dreams. “Each dream has its time, its arc, and its end. Her connection to The Land was severed as part of a larger design, one that is beyond any individual's desires, even mine."

Noticing your crestfallen countenance, he elaborated. “Dreams are both gifts and lessons, my love. They are there to guide mortals, but they must also be let go when their purpose is fulfilled. To restore it now would be to disrupt the path she must walk."

"So, she's unable to return to her dreams?"

"One day, perhaps. A dream is alive only when it meets the dreamer’s true need."

You averted your gaze, allowing his words to settle in your mind. After a moment, you turned back to him, your eyes glistening with emotion. "If I were severed from this world and from you, it would be unbearable. I can't imagine my life without the Dreaming, I would probably die."

Your words deeply moved him, though he tried to conceal it behind his characteristic gravitas. "You would not be disconnected from me, my love. Not truly. No matter the forces at play, I told you I would always find you, in dreams or beyond them."

He reached out to touch your face, offering comfort and promise, acknowledging your compassion and worries without dismissing them. "If ever such a fate were threatened, I would bend the realms themselves to keep you close."

Your smile returned as your fingers toyed with the lapels of his coat. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Even the King of Dreams is not immune to the fear of loss," he admitted. "And you possess a unique quality that no other mortal will ever match."

"Are you implying that the Dreaming would suffer without me?"

"Not only the Dreaming. I am its ruler, yet above all, I am a being irrevocably bound to your heart."

That very heart raced with exhilaration, sending waves of warmth cascading through your body like a gentle fireworks display.

"You’re so sweet,” you expressed.

“Sweet?”

You tilted your head. "I know you're all powerful and mighty, and that 'sweet' isn't typically associated with you. But with me, you're so wonderful that I doubt any other being in existence could ever compare."

He grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with veiled intentions. “Perhaps I should remind you of my true nature, my love. As befits the King of Nightmares.”

You laughed, crossing your arms with a glint of curiosity on your face. "Oh? Is that a challenge? Because, Your Majesty, I'm not one to run away so easily."

For a moment, silence blanketed the space between you. The air grew still, charged with electric anticipation as Morpheus's posture shifted. An otherworldly darkness seeped into the scene, dimming the ambient illumination. Cold moonlight took its place, casting elongated shadows on the ground. The world around you transformed into a vast canvas, painted in shades of deep blue and ink-black, completely bereft of stars.

With a flick of his hand, Morpheus stepped back. The space stretched into an endless void, where whispered secrets echoed and your surroundings dissolved into an illusion of midnight sky. His form began to transform, subtly at first. His robes billowed like storm clouds, infused with silver strands that glinted like trapped starlight. His eyes glowed with pale fire, and his hair flowed freely, no longer tethered by gravity.

Despite the imposing figure before you, you felt no fear. In fact, the beauty of it—the raw, infinite greatness—thrilled you to no end and made you shiver in awe rather than terror. He embodied everything he claimed to be: powerful, enigmatic, and fearsome—yet he remained, undeniably, the man you loved.

He circled you slowly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned in from behind. His voice boomed, almost demonic, though unmistakably his own. "So bold… and so fragile. Will you not bend and yield to your Lord?"

You recognized this as an enthralling performance, a thrilling roleplay that left you completely spellbound.

"You are magnificent," you breathed, your voice brimming with admiration and something else. "Truly, I don’t need to tell you how willingly I'd surrender to you. You already know."

His hands wrapped around your waist, strong and secure. "It seems," he said with a wry smile, "that even the King of Nightmares cannot dissuade you."

"Never," you replied, tracing delicate patterns on his hands. "Not when I know that you'd never harm me."

His dark and menacing guise melted away, replaced by a soft chuckle as he reverted to his normal form. The inky blackness dissipated, giving way to the previously vibrant colors of the dreamscape.

With a touch of reverence, he lifted your hand to his lips. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I shall remain 'sweet' for you alone."

You threw your head back, sinking against his chest as laughter bubbled from your lips. Your eyes sparkled with immense happiness and love. "Now I wish I never had to wake up."

For the remainder of the night, Morpheus granted your wish, keeping you blissfully ensconced in the realm of fantasies.

As you settled into your seat on the plane home, you went through a curious distortion of time. The fortnight in Cape Kennedy and week in the Dreaming had passed in a blink, yet paradoxically left you feeling as though you'd been away for eons.

You were exhausted, the jet lag evidently taking its toll on you. Readjusting to your regular routine proved unexpectedly daunting, as you had to deal with frequent migraines and an unsettling tendency to nod off at inopportune moments throughout the day.

You missed the friends you'd made, the cozy ambiance of the former B&B, and the tranquil Floridian nights that contrasted so starkly with London's bustling soundscape.

The newborn continued to make sporadic appearances in your dreams, but the crib remained just out of reach, its cryptic message undecipherable. Curiously, this recurring vision didn't unsettle you; upon waking, it often slipped from your mind entirely.

Upon returning home, you quickly established regular long-distance communication with Hal and Rose. They now shared a peaceful home as a family, along with Jed, Lyta, the baby, and an intriguing man—a friend of Rose's—who had seemingly won Hal's heart. Rose had finally submitted her college application and begun brainstorming ideas for her future book. Meanwhile, Hal was actively pursuing a career as a Broadway performer, eagerly anticipating news of a potential audition.

After carefully considering numerous options, Lyta finally settled on a name that perfectly suited her son: Daniel Hall.

Corbyn & Jones was busier than ever, inundating you with work the moment you stepped into the office. The company overflowed with orders and requests for new projects, which Ella presented as promising opportunities for the future. With the Fashion Show behind you and sales skyrocketing across online platforms, local stores, and social media, your friend decided to entrust you with an equally creative venture, one with the potential to become the company's crown jewel. Both figuratively and literally.

"Are you serious?" you asked, your eyes wide as you stared at her face in disbelief.

"I don't see why not. You've always had a passion for jewelry, and I distinctly remember you designing some back in high school."

"Those were just early experiments, hardly worth mentioning."

She grinned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You used to say the same about all of your sketches. Yet here you are."

You sighed, massaging your throbbing temples and stifling a yawn. "Fine, you've got a point. But I'm wondering, are we really prepared to take on more work? It's not exactly difficult for people to find quality accessories from other sources."

"We've received numerous requests for jewelry to complement our products. It's a bold move, but we can't afford to ignore our competitors."

You brought your finger to your lips, contemplating. "I guess you’re right."

"Look, I know you've just returned from Cape Kennedy and haven't had a chance to catch your breath, I can see how tired you are. Still, you're the only one I can trust with this," Ella explained. "Whenever I scroll through my social media feed, all I see are the same products being marketed as 'exclusive drop collections' by different brands or influencers, simply because they're trending. I don't want to slap our name on a generic necklace, bracelet or ring and claim we made it. I want something special, something that only you can create."

Ella had always been fiercely competitive. Seeing an opportunity to make a real impact, her eyes lit up with a reinvigorated enthusiasm.

"I'm not asking you to do anything complex, I swear. You have an excellent sense of style, and you're very distinctive. You emanate this constant aura that's simply goddess-like."

You couldn't help but chortle, amused by the unintended accuracy of her statement. Whatever she saw coming from you was no longer a coincidence, now that you were aware of your true origins.

"I'll cover the material costs, and Oliver has connections that could help with soldering services and gem sourcing. Perhaps you could do some research? Visit a few places, gather inspiration, and compile elements you find appealing?"

As Ella elaborated, you found yourself increasingly drawn to the idea. You couldn't shake the concern about managing deadlines with yet another project on your plate, but it was worth a try if it meant outperforming competitors and surpassing market projections.

"I've already got a couple of places in mind for you to check out."

Your gaze drifted to your wrist, where your mother's bracelet and Morpheus' bangle gleamed under the artificial light. With these treasures as inspiration, you realized you might already possess the guidance needed to excel in this new endeavor.

“Fine, let’s do it,” you declared.

"Really? You're on board?"

"I mean, you're still my boss. We might be friends, but that's no excuse for me to slack off or neglect my responsibilities. Besides, you might be onto something here, and I'm genuinely curious to give it a try."

Ella slammed her hand onto the desk with such force that you nearly jumped out of your seat.

"Ha! Those businesses better brace themselves. We've got a secret weapon right here!"

"Come on, Ella. I'm hardly a secret weapon."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to us. And to me, because I've found my bestie again. I'm absolutely thrilled to be working with you!"

You nodded, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. "Right. Remember how we used to daydream about this when we were teenagers?"

"How could I forget? I always wanted to run my own company with you as my creative genius. You'd tell me it was too good to be true, but I never stopped insisting it was possible. And now, look at us!"

"Indeed, I was wrong. I must admit, I was quite the pessimist back then."

Ella rose to her feet, placing her hands on her hips with an air of confidence and satisfaction. "Yeah, and I definitely prefer this version of you."

"I could take offense to that, but honestly, I feel the same way."

“Yaaaaas! Slay!!!”

The office door swung open, and Oliver strode in, clutching a handful of papers. His eyebrow arched quizzically at the scene before him. By now, you were certain he'd grown accustomed to his wife's antics, yet the expression on his face was absolutely priceless, especially as he caught sight of her, arms thrust triumphantly skyward.

"What's all this ruckus?"

"Oops, sorry, love. Was I too loud?"

"I'd wager they heard you clear across the street," Oliver quipped, his lips quirking into a sardonic smirk.

Ella waved off his comment, taking the papers he offered. "Is this the list you mentioned?"

"Yes. I assume you've already informed Y/N about our new quest?"

"Indeed, I have. We were just discussing it."

Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, turning his attention to you. "Given Ella's reaction, I take it you've accepted our proposal."

Your friend’s bouncing movements reminded you of a cartoon character, the passage of years only enhancing her comedic charm.

You gracefully crossed your legs, settling into the swivel chair with your arms and back comfortably supported, ignoring the looming fatigue and headache. "When do I start?"

Once again, you found yourself wandering through an unknown landscape, a twilight meadow bathed in the deep, velvety indigo of night. The profound quiet was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as you stepped forward, drawn toward a soft radiance in the distance. Fireflies danced around you, their tiny lights twinkling like celestial guides along your path. The air carried a mysterious warmth, a gentle weight that felt both calming and comforting, as if something unseen were embracing you.

As you moved closer, the glow revealed itself to be a single flower blooming amidst the grass, its petals as bright and sparkly as moon dust. Intrigued, you knelt down, extending your fingers. The petals pulsed with a gentle rhythm, reminiscent of a soft heartbeat. Your hands hovered over it, sensing the energy of something alive, tender and delicate, yet infinitely strong. A deep connection stirred, an instinctive awareness that you were being entrusted with something precious.

When you touched the flower, warmth spread through your palms, wrists, and elbows, life itself flowing into your veins. You closed your eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and sweetness. An overwhelming tenderness rose inside your heart: a love you couldn't describe, a caring that was simply boundless.

A delicate whisper drifted through the meadow, a soothing voice that seemed to come from both earth and sky. "This light now belongs to you," it echoed. "Soon, it will flourish. And so will you."

The flower dissolved, sinking into your chest like a subtle pulse settling inside your heart. You tried to speak, but your throat constricted, silencing any sound. A thin layer of bright blue fog descended, and then you heard it again, the familiar cry of a child, the now visible distant crib beckoning you.

You attempted to rise, but were anchored to the grass as if you were a deeply rooted tree. Strangely, you felt no desire to resist or struggle. A flicker of concern crossed your mind, yet an underlying calm reassured you that there was no cause for worry.

This time, your voice emerged, speaking a single name, the only one that occupied your thoughts.

“Daniel…?”

The baby neither reacted, cried, nor moved. Suddenly, silence blanketed the scene, and everything around you faded into nothingness.

You awoke, the residual warmness from your dream still occupying your chest—a mysterious sensation yet to be understood. However, as comforting as it felt, the moment you pushed yourself into a sitting position, reality struck. You were drenched in sweat, your nightgown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. A wave of nausea surged from the pit of your stomach, twisting your face into a grimace.

You dismissed it as insignificant, attributing it to the minor anxiety that had followed you from the realm of dreams into the Waking World. The recurring presence of that child in your subconscious remained an enigma, leaving you uncertain about its nature. As Morpheus had explained, Daniel Hall's conception during Lyta's dreams forged an unbreakable bond between him and the dream realm. Could the newborn be reaching out to you in Morpheus' domain for some unknown reason?

Despite wracking your brain for answers, you were simply left with even more questions.

You tried to lie down again, pushing aside the bedsheets as you took deep breaths. Unfortunately, the queasiness persisted. Instead of easing, it grew more intense, significantly so.

And then you felt it, that dreadful urge to expel whatever was churning in your stomach. You leapt out of bed with lightning speed, one hand clamped firmly over your mouth as you raced to the bathroom. You despised it and fought to contain it, but whatever it was, it refused to subside on its own.

Unable to hold it back any longer, you hunched over the toilet, your body convulsing as you violently ejected the remnants of your dinner. The ordeal continued relentlessly until you felt completely hollow, as if you'd purged every last morsel from your system—intestines and all.

When it was finally over, you relished the relief, washing your mouth and face to rid yourself of the sticky residue of sweat on your skin and the acrid taste persisting on your tongue. Your abdominal muscles contracted painfully, as if you'd just completed an intense set of sit-ups at the gym.

Good lord. You felt like a wrung-out dishrag.

Whether you had eaten something bad or were experiencing delayed symptoms of travel burnout, you desperately wished for this nausea to leave you alone. It had ebbed and flowed throughout the night, barely relenting even as you left the house.

It was unusual, you rarely had digestive issues. Considering the whirlwind of your recent trip, flying to Cape Kennedy, physically moving in and out of the Dreaming, and then back onto the plane home again, it probably made sense that your body was finally feeling the strain.

Fortunately, you made it through your workday without a repeat of your previous night's disaster, successfully keeping your lunch where it belonged. You convinced yourself it was just a random occurrence, a fleeting ailment that would pass as your body naturally recovered.

You pored over your sketches and scoured your Pinterest boards for further inspiration. With an array of gemstone pieces and chains spread across the table, you let your creativity flow, crafting designs that were both unique and original. Ella desired something innovative, jewelry that stood out from the current market offerings, and you were determined to exceed her expectations.

The process was unexpectedly enjoyable and fulfilling, surpassing your initial skepticism. Your research and material acquisitions produced impressive results, with several of your creations already sent to the workshop for soldering and welding. Weariness was a constant companion, testing your resilience and mental focus over the following days. Nevertheless, a few stifled yawns and tired eyes paled in comparison to the joy of seeing your efforts appreciated.

Just as you were ready to forget about your mysterious illness, the nausea suddenly resurfaced one day as you walked out of the shower. It lasted only a few minutes before subsiding, allowing you to sleep without feeling sick or making another dash to the toilet.

Over a week had elapsed since your return, and with your appetite slightly diminished, you began to question whether your random symptoms were truly related to the trip and the tumultuous circumstances you had encountered in Florida. Ella and your colleagues appeared unaffected after your recent restaurant outing, yet you couldn't shake the suspicion that something on your plate might have caused potential food poisoning.

On the other hand, you wondered if this physical disorder was merely a result of exhaustion. Your father had noticed your pallor and evident fatigue, expressing concern about how unsteady you seemed on your feet. With the new jewelry project underway you'd been bustling about, visiting stores and different studios to source new supplies. You hadn't exactly been cautious, willingly pushing yourself far beyond your limits.

During your walk home from a fruitful excursion, you had to stop multiple times due to unexpected breathlessness and lightheadedness. These strange manifestations left you feeling disconcerted, as your body behaved in ways you didn't recognize.

Ultimately, you dismissed your condition as a mere stomach bug or something equally benign. You saw no reason to fret over what you believed would be a short-lived malady.

Yet, was it truly so insignificant…?

You hadn't seen Hob Gadling since before your trip abroad, and your work subsequently left little room for socializing. In spite of his persistent invitations for drinks, you regrettably had to decline repeatedly. Hob, true to his nature, remained incredibly patient and understanding, encouraging your professional growth while reminding you to prioritize self-care.

Finally meeting him felt like reuniting after an eternity apart. His bright smile was better than any medicine, his company one of the most precious things in the world. To be honest, you felt so sleepy and generally under the weather that you were tempted to reschedule. However, you knew that finding a better opportunity in the near future was unlikely.

"Are you sure you just want tea? You're not ordering anything else? It's my treat, you know."

"I know," you replied. "It's just that I've been feeling a bit off lately."

"Oh, is that so? Sounds like you might be burning the candle at both ends again."

"My job keeps me busy, but it's nowhere near as hectic as when I worked in Wych Cross. I can sit for hours without being called away."

Hob bit into a piece of tart, humming in response as he chewed.

"How are things going at school?" you inquired.

"Some students can be quite a handful,” he said after swallowing. “But you know how it is."

"You've become a role model for so many young people. That's something to be proud of," you observed.

"Well, when you've lived as long as I have, you inevitably accumulate quite a trove of useful experiences."

"It's not just your extensive knowledge that makes you awesome, Hob. You're intelligent, kind, and always attentive to those who need support."

"If you'd known me back in 1600, you might think differently."

"But I know you now, and I truly appreciate the man sitting in front of me."

His grin widened as he reached for your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Or maybe, I have the best influence right here."

"Oh, come on. You were already like this when we first met."

Immersed in the joyful atmosphere, you savored the shared laughter and companionship of a treasured friend. While you loved your creative job, having a day free from work finally gave you the chance to unwind and momentarily set aside thoughts of impending deadlines.

The afternoon progressed perfectly until an unexpected disruption occurred. As the waitress approached the adjacent table, a potent coffee aroma wafted through the room. The scent went straight to your head, compelling you to abandon the remaining of your tea as a sudden wave of sickness engulfed you all over again, reminiscent of a rising tide.

"Are you all right, Y/N?" Hob asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Yes, it's just... isn't this smell a little too strong?"

“What smell?”

“The coffee.”

Hob furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. He sniffed the air, taking a moment to analyze it. "I don't know," he said. "It smells like normal coffee to me. I don't find it particularly overpoweri—"

You abruptly sprang from your chair, weaving through customers and tables to reach the mercifully vacant bathroom. Stunned, Hob followed in your wake, gently rapping on the door and calling your name with apprehension. Curious onlookers paused their conversations to observe the scene, while the waitress craned her neck inquisitively.

You heard him, but couldn't respond. Doubled over and coughing, you felt your fluids rushing out uncontrollably. The malaise hit you with full force, dropping you to your knees as your body eliminated its contents a second time, leaving your throat raw and burning.

"Y/N, please say something. What's happening?"

Only when you were certain you had nothing left to expel did you open the door. A searing pain shot through your forehead, and the entire path from your trachea to your stomach felt inflamed, as if ready to burst from the inside out.

"I'm sorry about that," you mumbled, your voice hoarse. "I'm fine."

"That didn't seem like 'fine' to me. Would you like me to drive you home? I think some rest might do you good, Shortcake."

Completely drained, quite literally, you nodded silently and returned to your table. You gathered your belongings, leaving behind your dinks, unfinished and forgotten. Each step felt leaden and sluggish as you made your way to Hob's car, shrouded in a thick, uncomfortable silence. With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the seat, shutting your eyes and clutching your bag's strap tightly.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized dejectedly. "I've ruined our outing."

"I'd rather see you feeling well than keep you out when you're sick to the bone. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have postponed it to another day."

You pouted. "I really wanted to see you today, though."

"And I want you to take care of yourself. I can't die, remember? I've got all the time in the world."

"I just don't get it,” you protested, your voice wavering. “I can feel fine for a few days in a row, and then suddenly I'm puking my guts."

"How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"

"I've been feeling a bit strange since I landed last week, but nothing major, really. Just the occasional headache, fatigue, that sort of thing."

The car halted at a red light, its engine rumbling in the quiet street.

"You mentioned the coffee smell was particularly strong."

"Yes, I don't know why. I could not stand it."

“Mh.”

Noticing his unusual quietness and the contemplative look on his face as he mulled over your words, you narrowed your eyes. "Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing, Shortcake. I've heard there's some sort of stomach bug going around. You might have caught that."

The car resumed its journey, winding through the thoroughfares of London as you gazed out the window, your eyelids feeling impossibly leaden. “Yeah. Could be.”

Morpheus strolled through the library, his presence as ubiquitous as the tomes on the shelves and tables, as if they were fragments of his very essence. He returned the volumes borrowed from Lucienne: various dream records he'd examined to evaluate his realm's current state and its power's impact on the Waking World following the Vortex incident.

He scanned the spines of the books before him, striding along the rows of shelves with his customary regal bearing. A faint smile played on his lips, a testament to his renewed control, now bolstered by your unwavering support and endless affection.

His fingers glided along the leather bindings, caressing centuries—if not millennia—of transcribed stories. From across the library, Lucienne and Matthew's distant voices wafted through the atmosphere, lively and tranquil, signaling the full restoration of every fracture caused by the previous disturbances.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

Little did he know that his newfound self-assurance was about to shatter in the face of an imminent revelation.

As Morpheus turned to depart for the throne room, a whisper from behind arrested his attention. A large, weathered tome jutted out from the long row of books, awaiting the Lord of Dreams to hold it. The Endless paused, pivoting slowly, and gazed at the book with surprise as he approached.

Its cover was pitch black, adorned with faintly scratched embroideries and devoid of any visible title. As Morpheus lifted it from the shelf, he was struck by its physical lightness, yet felt a spiritual weightiness emanating from it. Gingerly, he opened the volume, unsure of its contents. The title was emblazoned in large, inky letters on the first page:

Morpheus felt his blood run cold, his fingers turning even icier. He had heard of that name before, old tales circulating from one shaman to another, handed down to priests and storytellers until they remained nothing but a legend with no foundation. It was described as a book full of dire predictions, destiny itself written upon its pages, bringing forth catastrophic prophecies that were never proven.

Not once in his eternal lifetime had Morpheus encountered this book in the castle's library, or in any library, for that matter. He had long dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful myth.

Its sudden appearance in the Dreaming could only mean one of two things: either it was a product of someone's vivid imagination, or it heralded an impending catastrophe. Morpheus dreaded the latter possibility, considering all that he and the Dreaming had endured over the past 106 years.

The second page lay blank, its rough, ancient parchment unyielding beneath his ethereal touch. He flipped it over, and the third one featured a Celtic-inspired illustration in black and gold ink, depicting a tarot-like tableau of a full moon reflecting on still waters, with a solitary female figure wading into the depths. In the center, a short paragraph had been inscribed.

Morpheus's entire form tensed as he continued leafing through the book, only to discover another image, a counterpart to the previous one. Instead of the moon, the sun now dominated the landscape. The same woman stood with her back turned, clad in a long gown, still traversing the vast ocean ahead. In the middle, another caption stood out.

Morpheus staggered, clutching the shelf before him for support. These images weren't unfamiliar; everything depicted on those pages represented only one thing—what he treasured most in the entire universe: you.

He pressed on, both terrified and desperate to uncover more. With each turn of the page, he saw more of you, and even himself, intricately woven into the written lines and painted details. The book revealed something he had never wished to know, yet somehow, deep in the core of his love for you, he had already foreseen it.

A once-distant fear, something he fervently hoped would never recur as it had in the past, now a tangible possibility.

As understanding dawned, Morpheus sank to the floor, his legs buckling beneath him. His chest tightened agonizingly, as if a hidden power sought to tear his heart from his body and destroy it. He was in agony, metaphorically shattered into countless fragments, as the mental image of you splintered like a fractured mirror, your radiant smile morphing into the deepest frown.

Sequestering himself in that spot, he read the enigmatic messages obsessively, only to conclude they portrayed the most unfavorable fate imaginable. One he was determined to protect you from, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing everything you represented for him.

And for the Dreaming.

Mere moments ago, he was elated at the thought of having you by his side, bringing out the best in himself, shaped by your unconditional love for all that he was.

The next, his eyes closed, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down his pale skin at the devastating prospect of what he had to do for your sake.

I'm sharing this for reference, so you have a clear image to associate with it; the bangle Morpheus placed in the memory box is essentially like this one. I purchased it online recently, and it reminded me of The Sandman and my fanfiction, so I've decided to include it. ✨

What did Morpheus find in the library just now??? 😱 😶 🙊 😭

Also, if you're wondering what I suspect you're wondering, the answer is… it could be either yes or no. 😏

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 23 (coming soon) ->

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #lydbyd chapter 22

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