Dragon Knights Fan Fiction ❯ Twenty Themes ❯ Dreams ( Chapter 11 )

Warnings: I can't think of a summary. One word says it all, really.

Size: 5.62kb

In his dreams, he's not alone: everything's quiet, perfect and unchanging. He wakes up in the same bed and falls asleep in the same, soft arms. The forest is their bedroom and the leaves are their blankets, the branches shelter them. In his dreams, they rarely speak: they follow their own paths, playing with fairies, making clay jugs and weeding stubborn plants, but whenever he raises his head he can see her; whenever he raises his head she comes running; and whenever he raises his head, he falls backwards shortly after, falls backward in the welcoming and warm drift of leaves. Then everything else disappears and it's just the two of them, one person, again.

In his dreams, gold is edible; whatever flavour you crave rocks your tastebuds and squeezing a gem spurts out the tangiest juice. Piles of jewellery are riches to the tongue as well as the wallet and he can't keep himself from eating half his horde. Crowns, after bracelets, after necklaces, after brooches slide down his gullet and into his stomach. He cries when he sees the three treasures, greatest marvel of the Dragon Tribe - he can't help it; he knows that he won't be able to hold himself back and he devours them. Oh god, the taste! The richer the object the more intense the flavour: these three marvels send shivers rippling up and down his body: Chocolate, raspberry, blueberry, cinnamon, thyme, chilli, then the new flavours, silver, gold, platinum, emerald, ruby, the ripples pulse on and on and on and he wails and moans because nothing will ever taste this good again.

In her dreams, she's fixed. She lives in a small house and though it's empty right now, it'll fill with noise when her children come home. Her life is hard, but she's happy to clean and to cook, as the smiles on their faces make everything right. The pain that throbs in her heart disappears when even one angel whispers "Mommy, I love you."

In his dreams, he's free. He can't remember his past or his name, but there's an open plain in front of him and though he's been running for hours, he's not tired and he wants to race on. A wolf joins him and he laughs. He eases up the pace, so as not to lose it, but it still tires long before he does. The plain gives way to the ocean and he dives into it, not bothering to breathe, marvelling at how easy it is. A turtle offers him a lift and he grabs on, laughing and laughing and laughing.

In his dreams, his home is filled with people: people who loved him, people who disliked him, people who hated him and people who obeyed him. He knows that something is wrong, something is missing, when he stops to pet the white dog, but it's not important now, because a friend he hasn't seen in a long time is calling to him. Why has it been so long since they've met? They share the same home.

In his dream, someone's singing. He can't make out the words, but he's scared somehow. It's dark and he's not sure what's going on. He turns around: his siblings are playing without him and he runs to catch up.

In her dreams, it's quiet. The book on her desk is unopened, but a pen stands urgently beside it. She shuns them and runs out through the window. It's spring and the flowers are blooming. In ten minutes she has to go to her first dance and she hopes to meet the handsome prince there. Tonight, the party is for her and she is the centre of attention.

In her dreams, everything means something. She hates to sleep, because she knows that her dreams will be interrogated in the morning. The world of symbols is arrayed about her, disguised in plants, flowers and hair that can't be brushed. She tries again. The lord is waiting for her beyond the door, but she can't talk to him until her hair is alright. A tooth falls out and she bends down and picks it up. She pushes it back in and grinds it down. Tonight, she will meet the lord. Her hair grows wilder. Tonight she will open the door.

In his dreams, it's always sunny. He waits for rain, the gardens need it, but somehow they thrive in dry air. Even the corn stands tall and proud. He sweeps the floor of his simple home and sits in his rocking chair. The fields grow around him; it's as if they don't need his help, so he sits and rocks and takes it easy and the world of important people passes him by, unheeded.

In his dreams, it's always cold. This is the season where it all goes wrong. This is the season where it's important to make a difference. He stands at the door, pulling the clothing from strangers, but he can't find the one he's looking for. He can't find the one that needs his help. He'd go alone, but he doesn't know the way.

In her dreams, she's truly lonely. Every door she knocks on goes unanswered and every house she breaks into is empty. The fires are lit and the food is warm, but they must flee before she gets there. She steals a ransom in gold and then leaves it at the next house. Gold is heavy and cold and slows her down. If she keeps searching, she's bound to find one that's not fast enough to get away. She's bound to discover what's happening; where everyone's going and join them.

In her dreams, she's not alone: the forest is quiet and unchanging, as it was before. There's no water, anywhere, no streams or lakes and there are no people, but her and her lover. The forest is their mother and their father. The forest keeps them safe. When they grow tired, they fall into its arms and everything disappears and it's just the two of them, one person again.