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Preface:
The Dreamer is a man trapped in the Dreamscape, the world of dreams, likely due to some kind of curse. The Dreamer has very little recollection of his name, family or life prior to his time in the dream world. Chased by some kind of monstrosity, he is always on the move, forever looking for a way out, but never finding what he seeks.

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"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."
- T.E. Lawrence

"Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."
- Oscar Wilde

"Follow your dreams, they know the way."
- Kobe Yamada

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdzSQIejRQM

The Dreamer stirred, coming to on the edge of the universe, the string hanging loosely around his wrist. The wound had finally healed, where it had rubbed raw from his exertions, his attempts to escape. There was no escape, he'd tried countless times to free himself. But, was he truly trapped?

If so, he had to be somewhere, right? He couldn't be dead, if he was trapped. Or, perhaps, that was pure fallacy. Maybe, just maybe, death itself was a snare, a net, a mouse trap waiting to snap shut until he put some pressure on just the right spot, before it took him from the world, much as it would any other mouse who dared try to outsmart the wooden and metal workings of the contraption.

Maybe the Dreamer yet lived, but he couldn't be sure. How could he? The ever-changing world of waking nightmares that surrounded him, that had enveloped him, had taken its toll. It had worn on him for what seemed like an eternity, his sanity having fled long ago, leaving pure, primal instincts in its place. Survival. That was all that remained. He had to survive.

The Dreamer sat up, legs dangling from the edge of the world, the place he'd chosen to rest. There was little danger in doing so. Whatever was chasing him was far behind, he'd made sure of it before his body had collapsed from exhaustion.

Turning to survey his surroundings, the Dreamer noted the blooming Eastern Redbud behind him. Curiouser and curiouser. The tree had been barren only hours before. Strange, to say the least, but not uncommon in that place... whatever that place was.

Unbeknownst to the Dreamer, the place was always changing, shaped by the dreams of the living, of those who shaped the Mortal Realm, out in the real world. But he only knew one world, the Dreamscape, the Mortal Realm forgotten long ago, left behind with memories of a life lost to him.

The Dreamer pushed himself to his feet, the string dragging on the ground close behind. The purpose of the string was unknown to him, but it had always been there, following the Dreamer each step of the way, no matter where he went.

The man had once tried to follow the string, to trace his steps, but it led him in circles, eventually leading back to him. Once upon a time, he had been convinced of the string's importance, that it was the key to escaping that place, backtracking to the beginning, but those thoughts had faded.

The Dreamer dragged the weight of the world behind him as he moved down the slope and toward whatever awaited at the bottom. Unlike Atlas, he had tired of carrying it on his shoulders, and instead let it trail behind him in the form of a string. Something he would never understand, as far as he was concerned.

There was a certain confidence in his step, but it didn't show in his cold, dead eyes. The Dreamer had once been happy, he knew that much, but wasn't sure what had caused that happiness, what had brought about such joy. But, he could remember the faint feeling, the sensation, of smiling.

The Dreamer moved slowly, defeated, into the treeline at the bottom of the slope, ignoring or not caring to take in the glowing eyes that hid themselves among the strange, warped trees that created that nightmarish forest. What could they do that hadn't already been done?

Glowing, cat-like eyes watched the Dreamer, the unkempt and unwashed man. His hair had grown long, well past his shoulders, and his beard had gone unshaven for... he wasn't sure how long. He'd stopped counting the days long ago. There was no sun in that place, so, time was strange... difficult to measure. There was no sun, only the light of the moon.

The Dreamer's eyes widened as he remembered. "No, no, no, fuck," he complained as he turned and sprinted back toward the slope, his long legs carrying him quickly to his destination. The tall, lanky husk of a man clambered up the slope in a timely manner, just in time to grab the rope as it slipped free of the knot he'd tied before resting.

Wrapping the rope around his other wrist, leaving the string unmoved, the Dreamer yanked at the rope and planted his feet firmly on the ground. The balloon-like Moon resisted, trying to pull away and float off into the night. He'd long since believed that it had a mind of its own, that the Moon was sentient, but he couldn't let it go. He needed it.

The Dreamer pulled harder, turning and letting the rope rest on his shoulder as he marched in the opposite direction. It was heavy... heavier than anything he could have imagined before coming to that place, but he'd become accustomed to the struggle. After spending so long in that place, he knew the rules, how to work things to his favor. There was little he couldn't get away with, if he kept his head clear.

After a few minutes of struggling, the Moon gave in, letting the Dreamer win. It knew it couldn't escape, as long as he was near. It had tried on countless occasions, always failing. Resigned to its fate, the Moon gave in, defeated. Feeling the slack, the Dreamer turned to look at the rock in the sky.

"Not much longer," the man said, pulling the rope down and tying it around his waist. "I promise," he finished. There was a certain resolve in his tone, something that spoke volumes. He had a plan... Something that was clear as he turned back toward the forest, eyes bright.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Go4YMAws6BU

The Dreamer heard the pitter-patter of rain on the canopy above and the fallen leaves below, before he felt it on his skin, on his face as he looked up into the sudden onset of a storm. A tempest brewing above as he studied the night sky. A bad omen. But were there any good omens in that place? None that he could recall.

Storms weren't the same in that place. They weren't predictable, and they were never the same. Sometimes there was rain and sometimes snow... but, other times, it rained fire or even small stones. It was best to avoid being caught in the open, if given the chance to take shelter. Which is exactly what he did.

During his extensive stay in that place, there were few constants, most things changing on a whim. Whose whim, he was unsure, but things changed nonetheless. However, there were a few secrets, safe havens that could be found if one searched hard enough.

Constants, as he referred to them. No matter what area of that place he was in, there was always a safe place, hidden among the dangers, usually taking the shape of some kind of light source... a light to combat the ever encroaching darkness. A Constant, offering constant protection to those traversing the wilds of the Dreamscape. But they were temporary, always diminishing after used by the Dreamer, in his attempts to survive in the danger-riddled wilderness that he had called home for quite some time. The loss of a Constant was what had forced him to move into the forest, the Redbud on the slope had offered protection but for a short time.

Could one ever call that place home? A home was meant to be cherished by the inhabitants. A home was meant to offer protection and a sense of security to those who lived there. Neither of which were true of that place, which he had yet to give a name. The closest he'd come was 'Hell,' but he'd never been the religious type, so the name had come and gone on several occasions.

The Dreamer ran through the nightmarish forest as the rain picked up, or fell down rather. The light drizzle had turned into a downpour in a matter of seconds, and a flash flood in minutes. He ran, splashing through the rising puddles that were quickly turning into streams and even rivers in the lowest and clearest parts of the forest.

The Moon followed close behind, the rope seeming to pass through the branches above as a ghost through walls, the wet String clinging to his leg as he ran, appearing much like a wet noodle in the rising water below.

The Dreamer stumbled into a clearing, a dim light shining through the sheets of rain which tried to impair his vision, drive him to ground rather than to safety, but he persisted. He ran through the water which had risen up to his knees. Sloshing through the wet, the Dreamer fought for his life, moving ever closer to the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. The closer he got, the brighter the light. It was a Constant, he was certain.

A sudden influx of rainwater, and a slippery rock beneath the surface sent the Dreamer sprawling into the hip-deep pool of water below. Crashing through the water, he slammed into the ground, cutting his forehead on a large stone, the impact freeing it from its earthy confines.

The Dreamer fought and struggled, splashed and kicked, until he was able to get his feet beneath him and his head above the water which was up to his chest and rising at a dangerous speed. Giving up on running, the Dreamer swam toward the light, fighting the current as it tried to drag him away. He could feel the pull of the Moon, as well, noting that it had not even tried to help when he was halfway drowning seconds prior. Which was to be expected, given their relationship...

In the Dreamscape, hard work rarely paid off. The more you struggled, the further you were dragged into its depths. The Dreamer knew as much, and attempted to calm himself, to even out his breathing. He surged forward with a renewed vigor, trusting in his own ability to survive, to thrive, rather than the overwhelming force of cowardice that drove him toward the Constant and away from the death that would finally free him of his solitary confinement.

The Constant drew near, or he drew near to it, either could be true, he decided. It was a tree, like the last, but different. Large bulbous lights rested among its branches... a light in the darkness. He had never feared the dark, but only a fool would not fear the creatures that lurked in the shadows.

The Dreamer, finally reaching the proverbial shores of the lighthouse, climbed up onto its massive roots, pulling himself out of the water which had risen well above where his feet could've touched the ground, likely twice his height in depth at that point.

Stepping carefully, he found good footholds and slipped his hand in between the bark of the Constant, gripping it tight. There wasn't much room to stand, and there certainly wasn't enough room to rest, but it was enough to survive... to weather at least one more storm.

The Dreamer watched as the tempest raged around him, ravaging the nightmarish wood, but kept at bay by what he assumed to be the protective aura of the Constant. The wind whipped at his ragged clothes, what was left of them, but the rain and glowing eyes peering at him were kept at a safe distance.

It was going to be a long night. That was as true then as it was the second he'd entered the Dreamscape.

The Dreamer stood there for what seemed like days, maybe even weeks, until the storm finally calmed and the rain let up, transitioning into a light drizzle once more. Time was strange in that place. Sometimes it passed quickly, faster than one could imagine, but at other times it dragged on, an hour stretching into two or three, a year stretching into a decade. It was something that, even after all of the time he'd spent trapped there, he had not become accustomed to.

In reality, time in the Dreamscape was dictated by its inhabitants, the other dreamers. But, he was left unaware of the truth, of the intricately designed dynamics of the world he now lived in, his new, unwanted home. While that place was unwanted and unloved by him, he was never lacking, in want of excitement. Despite all of its terrifying and unappreciated qualities, boredom was not a nuisance in that place.

By the time the storm had calmed enough for the Dreamer to step back out into the world, to risk leaving the Constant behind, the gash on his forehead had healed. There was a scar, but the wound was gone. He was exhausted and hungry. Not peckish, but ravenous. The rules of the Dreamscape were different for each of its visitors. Some did not have to eat, sleep or drink, while some were invincible. But him? He was vulnerable to the whims of the wilds. His empty stomach let out a vicious growl as he hopped down off of the roots to the ground below, the ocean of rainwater having vanished, absorbed by the earth as well as the thirsty roots of the dying Constant, the bulbous lights resting atop the branches fading.

The Dreamer moved toward the base of the roots. There were well-hidden secrets among the safe havens, the protective islands in a sea of dangers. They were difficult to find, impossible really, unless one knew where to look. After being, potentially, the only long-term inhabitant of that hell hole, for quite some time, the Dreamer was privy to its secrets. He had heard the whispers of the winds and the cries of the horrors that lived there. If one knew how to Listen, to truly Listen and block out all else, there was something to learn from the place. One could live off of the land, off of the Constants, if they Listened, if they learned how.

Knowing as much, the Dreamer dug into the soil that held the roots vigorously, fueled by his hunger and his wish to move on, to find shelter elsewhere. After several minutes of raking long, nimble fingers through the mud, he found what he was looking for. The Dreamer gently detached them from the roots and held them in his hands. Looking up at the lights, then back to the miniatures in his hands, he smiled. The light source, whatever it was... it was edible, it was a source of power, of sustenance. The Constants were powered by magic, or some other force of nature, maybe even the thoughts and dreams of those who visited.

The Dreamer was unaware of such things, but he knew how to survive, to keep the hunger at bay. He took the glowing, bulbous growths in his hands, leaving the hole he had dug behind in search of water. Though most of it was gone, some had collected in the lower parts of the clearing. Kneeling by one of the puddles, he washed the mud off of his food, and then popped one into his mouth. There was no need to chew or suck on it, which was clear as it dissolved. Closing his eyes, he devoured another, driving the hunger away. The magic in the orb flowed through his form, re-energizing him.

Once finished, the Dreamer rose to his feet once more, and took stock of his surroundings. He quickly noted the change in scenery, the lighting of the world dimming to a sinister red. Not good... He'd witnessed the change before, the bleeding of the creature on the world around him. It was close. He'd wasted too much time waiting out the storm.

The Dreamer, dropping the last of the bulbs, moved quickly toward the edge of the clearing, the opposite side from where he'd entered during his mad dash through the tempest. Caught off guard by a bright light, he skidded to a halt several feet before the treeline. Squinting, and raising a hand to fend off the blinding light, he got a good look at the light's source.

The White Stag stood stock still, watching the Dreamer. The skittish creature took a few steps back, watching and waiting, hoofing the ground, before turning and moving quickly away through the trees, leaving him behind, attempting to rub the spots out of his eyes to no avail.

"Wait!" he called after the creature, hoping to halt its retreat. "Please! I won't-" he started, begging. He wouldn't hurt it... he wouldn't. The Stag didn't look back, it only kept moving until it was out of sight.

The Dreamer looked up to the Moon, still tethered to his waist. "You weren't any help," he complained, before turning and giving chase, dashing through the crimson forest, racing after the Stag without abandon. It was rare to spot a creature that wasn't actively trying to make a meal of him, and he sure as hell wasn't letting it get away that easily!

The Dreamer, turned tracker, moved swiftly through the forest, nimbly traversing the rough terrain. He jumped over a root here, ducked under a branch there, in pursuit of the White Stag. It had a good lead on him, but he followed its tracks efficiently enough. There were few creatures he couldn't track in the Dreamscape, after having hunted and fed on them when absolutely necessary, but this one proved more troublesome than most.

He finally approached the edge of the forest, after running for a long while. The Dreamer slowed his advance as he saw that same blinding light a short ways ahead of him. He crouched and moved cautiously through the forest, avoiding stepping on fallen leaves and dead branches, sticking to the rain-softened earth to avoid spooking the creature again.

The Dreamer approached the Stag, which appeared to be resting, laying down on the bare ground just outside the treeline. But, as he moved closer, he noticed something... the Stag was stained red...

Eyes wide, the Dreamer ran to the wounded creature and collapsed by its side. "No, you're okay," he said frantically. "You're okay, you have to be," he added, one tear rolling down his cheek, catching on his wild beard.

It was important. The Stag was important, he knew it was. He could feel it, but he could also feel its life slipping away...

The Dreamer rested his head gently on the creature, closing his eyes. He could hear a faint heartbeat in its chest, slowing by the second. Setting his jaw, he sat up. Raising the Stag's head, he rested it on his lap, stroking it gently in its last moments, humming a tune from a past life, calming the beast.

As it took its last breath, the Stag shuddered one last time before going still. The magnificent light emanating from the creature faded, dulling as it passed from that world. The Dreamer, ignoring the world around him and the encroaching crimson hue and the blurry, menacing figure watching from the forest, sobbed for the Stag, for its precious life ended for... for some unknown purpose. Something he would forever remember in a world where everything was lost, forgotten.

The Dreamer rested his head in his hands, sobbing, not caring for how he looked, how desperate he appeared to be for any kind of companion, someone or something to help him weather the void, to fight off the ever building depression that accompanied solitary confinement. The Creature waited, watching the lone prisoner, letting his solitude sink in, hoping the wounds on the man's psyche would fester, drive him closer to it, and away from thoughts of escape, of freedom.

The Creature and the Dreamer, the Dreamer and the Creature... perhaps they were one and the same, both very different physical manifestations of the same being? No, that couldn't be it, though the thought had crossed the Dreamer's mind long ago, that maybe they were twisted, hideous reflections of one another. Possible, but not plausible. He could never bring himself to believe that it... the Creature... was anything more than a ravenous beast, destroying everything in its path to get to him, to wreak havoc on everything he held dear.

The Dreamer, stared with unblinking eyes at his blood-stained hands. It wasn't his blood, but the Stag's, the innocent creature that had been slain. He could think of no beast so vile as the Creature, that would risk defiling such a beautiful thing, to drive its light from that wretched land. The Dreamer's gaze trailed from his hand to the Stag's wound, and then to the blood on the ground. His eyes followed the trail of blood to the crimson forest, to the monstrosity that lurked there, watching him, waiting for him to break. "Why?" he asked the Creature, his voice heavy with emotion, with conviction. It did not answer, but only stared with its crimson eyes, watching...waiting. It wasn't the first form the beast had taken, but it was by far the largest.

Was it a game the Creature played, how it tormented him so with such dedication? It must have driven itself mad, as it had done to him. It must have. Was there anything left of the Creature, other than the game they played, the game of cat and mouse, monster and man, Creature and Dreamer? One poor, tormented soul following another. Or, perhaps, there was something much more... sinister. Something the Dreamer didn't understand. Something that the Dreamer couldn't understand. The Creature, the beast, whether it was part of him, or an entity all its own, it drove him into his thoughts. He had once heard a poem in that place, recited by another lost soul, the Wandering Scarlet, though they found their way home... The poem, yet unwritten, was one of the many things that could only be found in the Dreamscape, things of the future but trapped in the present.

It dwells within my spirit, body and mind,
Devouring my soul and spirit,
It leaves nothing behind
It hungers for destruction,
It hungers for revenge,

Death to all,
It's the beast I must avenge,
It is my anger, it is my hate
I must destroy it

Before it is too late,
If it is not defeated,
I will become a soulless salve
But do not be misleaded,
It becomes harder to reject

It tempts my every step,
The beast I cannot neglect
The beast was once innocent,
He was once a child
Put down and stepped on,
He withdrew from the world
Now he is angry and wants to kill,
Those terrible memories,
The blood of the enemies he wants to spill
But I cannot allow him to go any further,
Its himself or those who did wrong to him,
But I cannot allow him to hurt her,
Not the only thing he has ever loved...

It mattered not, whether the beast, the Creature, was a part of him, or... something else. It had crossed the line, forcing the Dreamer to his feet, forcing him to act. The death of the Stag... it could not go unanswered. The Creature needed to pay, to be taught a lesson, to be cut down for its transgressions.

Turning toward the beast in the woods, the Dreamer offered it a sneer. "Why?" he repeated, his eyes falling to the blood dripping from the Creature's monstrous hands. There was no answer. "Why?" he asked again, this time louder. "WHY?" this time a ragged scream. "WHY DID YOU DO IT?" the words came out cracked, his voice hoarse, his body trembling and face turning red with rage. "IT DIDN'T DESERVE IT, YOU BASTARD!" The final words left his lips as he ran at the Creature, not caring for his own safety. It had taken a life, one that was much more precious than most. It would pay for its actions. It would...

The words of the poem rang true, though they were not meant for the Creature he charged, but for the anger within the Dreamer, a beast untamed, an unfettered rage released on the world around him when he witnessed injustice of the highest caliber, a wrong that could not be righted, no matter how hard one tried. That didn't matter. He would try, regardless of the outcome.

Wild hair whipped behind the Dreamer as he sprinted at the massive Creature. It was larger than life, the Dreamer barely coming up to its knee, but he charged head on, thoughts of safety thrown out the window.

The Dreamer quickly approached the Creature, only slowing when he drew close, stopping a little ways away. He looked up at the beast, fire in his eyes and let out an earth shattering roar, a soul tearing scream of rage that tore at his throat. The Dreamer's emotion, a powerful force in a place built on dreams, left him as a tidal wave, crashing against the beast and sending it sprawling onto its back.

The Dreamer's eyes glowed a dangerous, bright blue as the power left him, twisting the branches and vines of the trees around the creature, latching onto its arms and legs, raising it into the air and tearing at its limbs, pulling and ripping at the Creature's form. The Creature struggled against the forces of nature, of the Dreamer, as the man released another bout of fury. The vines wrapped tighter, pulled harder, until something gave. The right arm of the beast disconnected from its torso and fell to the ground.

The confidence that came with victory washed over the Dreamer, slowly driving away the anger, as the Creature was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, beaten and broken by his sheer strength of will. It wasn't an all powerful god, it could be destroyed. At least for a moment...

The Dreamer turned, believing himself the victor, and headed back toward the Stag with his head held high. In a manner of seconds, the Creature was on its feet, another arm growing out of the hole the Dreamer had left. It charged the man with a surprising speed unfitting of its size. Swinging its regenerated arm at the Dreamer, it launched him through the air, sending him flying through the forest until he slammed into a tree and collapsed to the ground.

The impact rattled the Dreamer, leaving him fading in and out of consciousness, as the Creature's crimson eyes watched, waiting for him to try again, taunting him. But, there was nothing left, the man's energy was spent. The Dreamer leaned against the tree bloodied and broken, unable to move, unable to fight back. Closing his eyes, he accepted his fate. This was the end... he slipped into unconsciousness, but the faint sound of a dog barking could be heard somewhere far away in the forest.

~O~

The Dreamer awoke to an odd sensation on his cheek. There it was again... something licking him. He tried to open his eyes but they were heavy, stubborn. He stirred, moving one hand up to feel his cheek, the wet spot there. After several moments of trying, he was able to force his eyes open, to see the small dog sitting on his lap, tail wagging.

"Max?" he asked, voice low and hoarse, barely a whisper. The Dreamer blinked a few times, making sure he wasn't seeing things, but the puppy remained. Unable to help himself, a smile began to form, curving the corners of his lips. Unsure of what had happened, why the Creature was gone and Max had taken its place, he chose not to question it. "Good boy," he commented, big goofy grin on his face. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up to Max and a distinct lack of beasts chewing on his extremities. There was something about the dog, something he couldn't put his finger on.

After a few minutes of greeting and playing with Max, the Dreamer attempted to force himself to his feet. Failing miserably, he fell back to the ground with a decisive thump, and a throbbing pain on his hind end, causing him to grunt in pain.

Sighing, the Dreamer reached up and grabbed one of the lower branches of the tree, pulling himself to his feet. He was wobbly at first, much like a newborn deer learning to walk... How long had he been out? Minutes? Hours? Days?

There was no way to tell and, in the end, it didn't matter. The time was lost, but he was alive, as was the only friend he had in that twisted hellscape.

After quite a few attempts, that only made him feel miserable after failing time and time again, the Dreamer finally managed to take a step without collapsing. It was progress. Slow, but he'd gained momentum, enough to push himself, to keep going.

Max had run off into the forest, playing. He barked and chased some of the smaller creatures that called the place home. The Dreamer rolled his eyes and let out a whistle. "Come on, Max!" he called.

The puppy skidded to a halt, one ear perked up as his name was called. His tongue lolled out the side of his maw as Max took off in the Dreamer's general direction. The pup tripped over a dead branch, causing him to roll, but it didn't stop him! Clambering back onto his feet, he ran to meet his friend.

The Dreamer made his way to the edge of the forest and slowly climbed a small hill to get a better vantage point of the open expanse. Upon reaching his friend, Max circled his legs a few times, excited barks escaping the small dog, before it slowed to a stop just behind his right leg, looking out over the wilds with a puppy's curiosity.

Looking down to Max, the Dreamer smiled at the pup's excitement. It was refreshing. "Well, Max," he started, returning his attention to the open plains in front of him. "We have a long ways to go," the Dreamer explained, garnering a happy bark from the puppy at his side.

The Dreamer and his companion walked for what seemed like forever over the plains just outside the nightmarish forest. There was nothing but grass for miles around, which bothered him. There was no cover, nowhere to go if things went sideways and they needed a place to hide. There was something unsettling but also humbling about being so vulnerable, at the mercy of the world around him. But, of course, Max was running around, playing, in the tall grass, the energy of the puppy seemingly endless, which helped alleviate the ball of stress building up in the man's gut.

After walking and walking and walking for an eternity, the Dreamer finally came to a stop. Looking up at the Moon, he said, "I'm sorry, but we have to keep going, this place is too open. There is no time to rest." The apology was the only thing that preceded a hard yank on the rope that held the rock in the sky, a sharp tug that drew it near. The Dreamer pulled again, reeling in the Moon, pulling it down to the Earth. The closer it got, the smaller it seemed, until it was there, floating beside them.

The Dreamer took Max in his arms and clambered on top of the Moon, taking a seat and holding the puppy in his lap. The gentle glow of their seat dulled, as if the Moon was complaining. Frowning as he took in the rock's reaction, he sighed. "It can't be helped, you have to pitch in too. We're a team," he explained. Not a very good team, given that one of their members tried to run float away every chance it got. But, it was a team, nonetheless.

The Moon was strange, different from the one outside the Dreamscape. Perhaps it wasn't a Moon at all, but some kind of sentient rock creature? A question that would go unanswered, but one that he pondered regardless. The large rock was cracked and jagged, missing a large chunk, which seemed to have been replaced by a flaming rose. On top of that, there were small trees sprouting out of the top. It wasn't like any moon he'd seen but, then again, he'd never seen Earth's moon up close. So, maybe...

The Dreamer kept a hold on the reigns rope, and the Moon carried them out over the plains. They traveled silently for a while, the only sounds being the wind and the puppy chewing on something or other, mostly his hand as he pet it. Though they were in a nightmarish hellscape, the moment was nice, pleasant even. It was nice to have a moment to relax.

After a good while, the Dreamer spotted something in the distance on the horizon. Some kind of light. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand then stared intently at the source of the light, though he couldn't for long. The Dreamer blinked several times, to make sure he wasn't seeing things... at least not things he didn't want to see, but it remained. The Sun... or a Sun.

Eyes wide, he shook Max awake (the pup had started to doze off), and pointed frantically. "The Sun! It's the Sun!" he exclaimed, a smile brightening his worn features, even reaching his eyes and the bags under them. "You see it?" he asked the pup, looking down, hopeful. Max barked and wagged his tail wildly, excited! That was a yes, or at least that's what he assumed.

"Let us down! Let us down!" the Dreamer instructed the Moon. If a Moon could smirk, it would have as it rolled over and dumped them a good fifteen feet to the ground below. Luckily, the grass broke the Dreamer's fall, and he broke Max's. The fall didn't faze him, which was clear as he jumped up, set Max down and ran off toward the rising Sun, the puppy following close behind!

The Dreamer, in his daze of excitement and a new sense of hope, barely noticed the orange hue of the Sun, rather than the yellow shine of Earth's Sun. It didn't matter, he wasn't on Earth, there were bound to be differences. But, the glow, the color brought up old memories, memories of a song, rather than a time or place. Turning on his heel, he snatched Max out of the grass and held him at arm's length, smiling. The puppy squirmed and licked his hand, as he started to hum a familiar tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE-z3bGgvp8

"I was walking along, minding my business, when out of an Orange Colored Sky..." he started, singing to Max, as he moved closer to the Sun with a certain rythm to his step. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! Wonderful you came by," he sang, his voice still ragged from his shouting match with the Creature. His voice was decent, but not on par with most of the supernaturals out there. Was he a supernatural? A question for a later date...

"I was humming a tune, drinking in sunshine," the Dreamer continued, swaying to the tune in his head. Max gnawed at his hand to no avail. He was lost in his song, his dance, the joy that the light brought. The Darkness was dangerous in that place... light was his friend, a friend that had long since abandoned him. "When out of that Orange Colored View..." he added, swinging the puppy around. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! I got a look at you," he explained, the last note dragging out as it should.

The motion was familiar, the swinging, the dancing, the movements... it was all so familiar. The Dreamer blinked a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as short, fragmented visions enveloped his sight, his senses. He smelled her before he saw her, the sweet scent of lavender permeating the dance floor as Mr. Cole performed on stage at one of the many live venues they'd attended. So long ago, long before he'd been launched into the Dreamscape, for some reason or another. She wore a beautiful, red dress that fit her form perfectly, accenting all of her best features, her smile being the one he considered the most precious. Long, blonde hair flew wildly about the room as they danced, as she pressed into him that smile lighting up her delicate features. But... she was gone as quickly as she'd come, the memory fading, lost. Who was she?

"One look and I yelled Timber," he sang, spinning around and falling backwards, landing on his back with a thud, Max scrambling out of his hands and onto the ground, bouncing around in the tall grass excited. The Dreamer jumped to his feet in one swift motion, like they did in those old Kung Fu movies. "Watch out for flying glass!" he warned, chasing the puppy in circles, Max thinking it a game. "'Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out, I went into a spin and I started to shout," he sang, matching the pace of the tune, as he spun around laughing. "I've been hit! This is it! This is it, I-T, it!" the Dreamer exclaimed with all the drama the line deserved.

"I was walking along, minding my business," the Dreamer continued, moving ever closer to the rising Sun off in the distance. There was a certain confidence in his gait, in the way he moved, the way he sang. The dead look to his eyes had faded, making way for naive, hopeful eyes to take their place. "When love came and hit me in the eye!" he added with a flourish, looking back to Max with a smile, thoughts of the beautiful blonde flashing through his mind once more. "Flash! Bam! Alakazam! Out of an Orange Colored Sky!" he finished, looking up to the beautiful sky above. The Sun had risen rather quickly and was now just above them. Smiling at the Sun, he noticed something odd... what appeared to be some kind of line. No, not a line, a crack... a crack in the sky.

The Dreamer's eyes widened as the crack spread, breaking the illusion that was the Sun. The record scratched (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJYRW_ZFiOE), but the tune kept playing in his mind, albeit at a different pace. The voice turned sinister, demonic even, as the Dreamer snatched up the puppy and booked it across the open plain, realizing what was about to happen.

"One look and I yelled TIMBER! Watch out for flying glass!" the demonic voice warned as the first piece of the sky fell, crashing to the ground, the Dreamer breaking into a full on sprint, Max yelping at the impact. "'Cause the ceiling fell in," it continued, more pieces of the sky falling. "The bottom fell out," it warned as a large crack split the ground between the Dreamer's leg, causing him to yelp as Max had a moment before. He glanced to each side quickly, taking in his options, before jumping to the right of the schism. Stumbling, he quickly regained his balance and continued his frantic advance across the plains, Max held safely in his arms. Max had protected him... it was time to return the favor.

"I went into a spin and I started to shout," the demonic voice continued, as a piece of the sky fell, the Dreamer barely spinning out of the way as it shattered on the ground, splinters striking home and sinking into his skin, bringing a shout of pain out of the man. "This is it! This is it, I-T, it!" he provided, commenting on the situation. The world was falling apart... As the sky shattered, the night sky revealed itself, the sunny day having been a cruel trick all along.

"I was walking along, minding my business, when love came and hit me in the eye" the voice continued. "Running," he corrected, irritation clear in his tone. The Dreamer moved as quickly as he could, eyes flitting about the open landscape, hoping to find something, anything, that could provide shelter, a tiny bit of safety as the world -presumably- ended.

"Flash!" A pinpoint bolt of lightning struck the ground just in front of the Dreamer, causing him to veer out of the way to go around it. If it was trying to stop his advance, then he was likely going the right way... at least that was his logic. "Bam!" Another bolt struck the ground, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "Alakazam!" And then another, this one barely missing, close enough to leave the smell of burnt hair permeating the air behind him as he ran. "Out of an Orange Colored, Purple Striped, Fruity Green Polka Dot Sky!" The voice continued, lying of course. Such whimsical and bright colors were nowhere to be seen, but a storm was brewing above, spurring the Dreamer to move faster, pushing himself as hard as he could. There had to be something... somewhere to go.

"Flash! Bam! Alakazam!" Lightning struck the ground several more times around him, causing Max to yelp each time. The poor puppy was shaking with fear. As the situation escalated, Max's heart beat quickened. The faster his heartbeat, the less... corporeal he was. The puppy was fading. Looking down at Max, the Dreamer pleaded, "No, Max, don't go, not yet!" But it was too late... the small dog faded into nothingness, the weight of the puppy disappearing with him. "And goodbye!" The voice added, though it seemed more like a 'good riddance'.

As the song ended, the Dreamer ran harder than he had ever run before. Barely catching himself in time, he skidded to a halt at the edge of a huge drop-off, a massive hole caused by the earthquake, so large he could barely spot the other side of the chasm. At the bottom, several thousand feet below, was an ocean of water, dark, sinister water, the depths of which could not be seen. "Shit," he complained, standing on the edge of the world, thinking through each and every option that came to mind. Not the end of the world, that was something entirely different... possibly what was happening around him.

Looking up to the Moon, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "This is the last favor," he promised the Moon as he took several large steps back, preparing to take a running start. Gripping the rope tight, the String trailing behind him, the Dreamer opened his eyes and ran wildly toward the edge, launching himself into the air just as the ground behind him, the plains, collapsed, falling into the ocean below. He soared through the air, hoping against hope that his plan would work...