Chapter Text
You never dreamt much as a child. There was the occasional nightmare that had you crying for your mother, and some fever dreams from the regular childhood virus, but never more than that. But then, in shortly after you had moved to London and started a new job, it started to change. Suddenly you dreamt frequently, of a cottage in the English countryside that was small, but not to small, with a lush and blooming garden, and birds, squirrels and cats that visited it. At first, you chalked it up to the stress and the new environment, but even after everything had settled down, the dreams continued. According to Google, frequent dreams could mean literally anything, but since they were so pleasant, you didn’t do anything about it and just accepted it.
*
Then the man showed up. You first saw him when you were in the front yard, watering your tulips. He just walked by, in his black coat and looked at you with these piercing blue eyes, and you gave him a smile and a small nod. He returned the nod, but not the smile, still he didn’t feel hostile, he was just part of your dream.
*
You first spoke to him after about 7 weeks of dreaming, 3 weeks after he had first walked by. You were in the kitchen, having just put away some dishes, when you heard a knock on the door.
“Come in, it’s open!”, you called, and he stepped into your cottage.
“Please, sit down”, you pointed him to the kitchen table and watched him take a seat, “There were a lot of strawberries today, would you like some before they end up in my jam?”
“I would love to.”
Those were his first words to you. As if this was something the two of you did regularly, you got a small bowl of the strawberries and sat down with him. You ate in silence while you observed him. He was not an intruder, it was as if he belonged here like nothing else, even more than you. Yet, there also was this hyperreality to him, as if you were watching a movie and suddenly became aware that the people on the screen were actors, imitating emotions while following a script. You awoke with the taste of sun-kissed berries in your mouth.
He visited you frequently after that, sometimes sitting on your porch, sometimes standing in your kitchen. You found yourself looking forward to falling asleep, hoping that he would be there. When he was, you seldom talked, but you began to wish that he would step behind you and gently lay his hands onto your arms, so that you could close your eyes and lean against his chest.
*
Sometime in November, you wanted to go to work and found the road you normally took temporarily closed due to a burst pipe. So, you took an alternative route, and when you looked around while waiting at a stoplight, you saw him. He stood in front of a pub on the other side of crossroad, there was no doubt it was him, with his sharp jawline, black hair, and overall broody demeanour. You wanted to go over and greet him, but the stoplight turned green, and the stream of workers pulled you along. It was probably for the best, you told yourself, running up to a stranger and telling him “You are the handsome guy from my dreams” is what gets you institutionalised.
And yet, on the next day, the road still closed, you took some extra time to do your hair and put on the scarf that matched your eyes. He was not there that day, and not any of the other days until you could use your old way again. You scolded yourself for being stupid and thinking that you lived in a cheesy rom-com.
*
“Who are you?”
It was summer in your cottage, and he sat with you in the arbour surrounded by the roses you planted in spring.
“I am Dream.”
“A dream? I knew that.”
“No, I am the dream. My name is Morpheus, and I am King of the Dreams. I think your people know me as the Sandman.”
You fell silent for a moment.
“So, you made this?”
“Essentially, yes.”
Silence again.
“Do you visit everybody in their dreams? Are you looking for customer feedback?”
He shook his head but didn’t specify further. The two of you continued to sit in silence, until you said:
“Thank you. For making this cottage for me. I like it very much”, you dared to put your hand on top of his, “And I enjoy your company, King of Dreams.”
He smiled at you, and you still thought about it hours later when a colleague gently shook you, and jokingly asked you if you had a crush.
*
A few weeks later, it was winter in your cottage (the seasons move on their own devices in dreams), and you were warming yourself in front of the fire, a stray cat purring on your lap and Morpheus next to you.
“Do you only exist in dreams or in the real world too?”
“Is what you are experiencing right now not real? You mean the waking world. And yes, I do exist out there.”
“Did… did I see you, back in November? On my way to work?”
He didn’t answer, but looked at you with these wonderful eyes, and you felt that it was true.
*
Your friends and co-workers tried to set you up on a few dates, but you always declined, explaining that you didn’t feel like being in a relationship right now. At least not with anybody that didn’t visit you in your dreams, but you didn’t say that part out loud.
*
One night in spring, you sat outside your cottage and listened to the sound of the crickets with your eyes closed. You heard somebody move trough the grass and moved to make space for Morpheus. He sat next to you for a few moments, until he said: “Look.”
“What?”, you opened your eyes and gasped, “Shooting stars! I don’t think I’ve ever seen them when I was awake at night, probably too much light pollution.”
“That means you are granted a wish.”
You looked at him, his eyes glowing in the dark.
“I wish for you to kiss me.”
He leaned forward, but you stopped him.
“No. In the, what did you call it? The waking world. Kiss me in the waking world.”
He looked at you for a moment, seemingly considering. Then, in a commanding tone:
“This dream is over.”
You awoke in your bed. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you that it was a little over two in the morning, not a normal time for you to wake up. You began to wonder whether or not it had been real, or if it was really just very vivid dreams. You had known this guy in university who kept banging on about how he had learned to lucid dream, maybe you had done the same without realising. Lucid dreamed yourself into crushing on an imaginary dream lord. Or maybe it had been real and your request to meet him outside of his kingdom hat scared him of.
Then you heard a knock on your door. Your flat was very small and at 2 a.m. even London was silent, so you heard it loud and clear. Could this be…?
You peeled yourself out of the bed, switched the lights on and tiptoed your way down the corridor to the door. There it was, another knock, and then, before you could stop and think:
“(Y/N)?”
His voice, from the other side of the wood. You opened and there he was, as real as you and your flat and the chill April night invading from the outside. Breathlessly, you said:
“Come in.”
He did and you shut the door behind him, motioning him to follow you into the kitchen, suddenly ashamed of the laundry basket that was waiting to be dealt with. In the kitchen, he sat down at the table and watched you, not saying a word.
“Do you want to drink something?” you asked, and when he shook his head, “I will get something if you don’t mind.”
You opened a cupboard and got a cup to fill on the tap, feeling his eyes on your back. He was still there when you turned around and slowly drank your water.
“Who are you?”, you asked because you didn’t know what else to say.
“I already told you. I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realm”, he answered, standing up and coming closer to you.
“What is the Endless?”
“We are a family, me and my siblings are anthropomorphic representations of natural forces, made to serve humanity forever.”
He was close enough for you to take in his scent, he smelt like the quiet night after a thunderstorm, and vaguely of ash.
“Do you still wish for a kiss? From me, in the waking world?”, he whispered, so close to you that you could feel his voice in your chest.
“Yes.”
And so he did. Gently lifting your chin up with his fingers and putting his lips on yours. They felt soft and it made your knees weak, and out of fear that he might leave you again you threw your arms around him and pulled him closer, leading him to intensify the kiss. You didn’t want it to stop and neither seemed he, as he lifted you up onto the kitchen counter to compensate for your height difference. There you were, making out like teenagers, until you had to gasp for air, which he took as an invitation to move on to your neck and exposed shoulder. Your hands found their way into his hair, and as he slowed down you whispered into his ear:
“Would you come to bed with me?”
“Yes”, his voice sounded hoarse, and it was evidently hard for him to let go of you long enough for you to slide of the counter and lead him into your bedroom. Would he fit into your bed? Didn’t matter, you switched off the light and climbed back into your bed. When your eyes found him in the darkness, he was bare-chested and pulled the covers around the two of you, allowing you to feel the touch of his skin. You were not done, not at all, and so you exchanged kiss after kiss between your sheets.
“Would you like it if I stayed the night?”, he asked in between two kisses.
“Yes, yes please!” You kissed his jawline and pressed yourself against him, wanting to bathe in his warmth and soak up the feeling of his skin against yours, “That is, if the other dreamers don’t need you.”
“My realm is in good hands, don’t worry about others right now”, he wrapped his arms around you, making you feel so wonderfully protected. You could feel something hard press against your stomach, but tonight, you had decided, was just about kissing and cuddling. “Sweet dreams now, (Y/N). I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And he was. When you opened your eyes the next morning, he was there, white skin glowing in the morning light peeking through your blinds, playing with your hair.
“How did you sleep?”
“Very well”, you huddled up against him and smiled, fully content, “How did you sleep? Do you even sleep?”
He laughed.
“No, I don’t, not like you do. But it is good for me to rest occasionally, so that’s what I did.”
He gently touched your cheek and let his thumb caress the lips he kissed the night before.
“Is this something you do often? Visiting people in their dreams and then come to their waking appartement to kiss them?”, you asked, dreading the answer as soon as the words left your mouth. Was it silly to want to be the only dreamer he treated like this?
“It is my duty to monitor everybody’s dreams, but I have to confess that I put special care into yours”, he pulled you against his chest, “And you are the first person I kissed in a long time.”
That made you turn red, and you buried your face in his chest, never wanting this moment to end. But the universe seemed to be limited to one wish: A few minutes later, something knocked against your window, scaring you.
“Oh”, Morpheus said, “Seems like I have to return to my kingdom.”
He got up and put his clothes on before turning around and sitting down on the bed again, where he took your hands into his.
“Would you like to come with me? You could see my realm.”
“That sounds really great, but…”, you already missed his warmth next to you, “…I kind of need to go to work in a few hours.”
“Of course,” he nodded understandingly and leaned in to give you a kiss, “I will show you one day, promise.”
Your heart did a little jump in your chest, and you tentatively asked: “So… I will see you again?”
“In your dreams…”
“Not in my dreams, Morpheus, I meant in this world. I have been dreaming about you for months now, I want you to be there when I’m not sleeping.”
He chuckled and gave you another kiss, ignoring the repeated knocking from the other side of the window “You are right. I want to see you awake too,” he pushed a rogue strand of your hair behind your ear, “How about Friday?”
“Yes, I could get off work earlier!” you felt ecstatic at the prospect of going on a date with him, “Shipping forecast says its going to be warm, maybe we could do a small picknick.”
“Sounds lovely”, he kissed you for one last time and stood up, the knocking growing more and more impatient.
“What even is that?”
“My raven, reminding me of my work,” His eyes met yours and you got the feeling that he, like you, didn’t want this to end, “Goodbye, (Y/N). See you on Friday.”
And with that, he disintegrated into a cloud of sand.