Chapter Text
When you dream of hope, I will be gone
Morpheus
One-hundred-and-thirty-three years I had endured pain. It was not a physical matter it was merely in my head. Locked up powerless, hopeless.
As time continued to pass for years and years of mortal suffering, all due to me being weak enough to be captured.
I never quite new the meaning of being in pain, but this was what truly described what I felt – pain.
I was never truly able to feel anyone’s touch. Neither the ones of my siblings nor any other being. Not that I needed it, but clearly, it had throughout years been giving me the feeling of being untouchable, almost invisible, non-existent. When those mortals had captured me, I faced plenty of time to think.
I had succumbed to my thoughts as I was unable to hide behind hearing the voice of the dreamers.
I was alone, all by myself, left to my very own mind and I felt mortal.
Centuries, eons in my duty…I was forced to be there for them – to give them what they need in order to survive.
I felt nothing. I felt the duty lying on my shoulders, pushing them down until I would crumble underneath the weight.
Giving a part of me to every single mortal being, lending them my imagination, my creations, something from deep within me – to let them dream.
Nobody ever asked for this, nobody ever asked for me to drown myself in sorrow and yet here I am sitting, feeling nothing.
Have I fallen into despair? Did she surpass my power? Have I given in – did I end up being nothing but a weak mortal in the end?
I am longing for an end to this, longing for an end to my suffering.
Day after day the same weight – the same pressure – same actions taken.
Claiming to feel safe in my realm, claiming to feel safe ruling over a kingdom of lies.
Perhaps John was right, maybe I am nothing but the king of lies.
My realm has grown darker lately even though I had returned with more power than I had ever had.
The realm had grown full of dark clouds, rain, thunderstorms and even the Dreaming itself appeared like the realm of nightmares, as it symbolizes myself, being a manifestation of my mental state. And yet something as mortal as the feeling of sadness, is all the Dreaming contains lately.
I am leaning on the balcony looking all over my kingdom, drowned in darkness – nothing but deep pitch-black darkness.
Here I am at the very end. I reach out my hand feeling raindrops, like burning flames crawling across my skin, devouring me, consuming the few feelings left inside of me. They are slowly making their way down my skin.
My eyes filled with tears which I have thought could never even have a chance to appear on my face.
I can no longer feel a difference between the rain and my tears, perhaps they are the same. Perhaps my tears are falling all the way across my kingdom because I look at it with those sorrowful empty eyes of mine.
This is ridiculous – all of this. Have I grown to become mortal – grown to be a weak little helpless being.
Craving for light, searching for it at the very end of the road of eternal darkness, when I was supposed to be the one giving people hope – giving people imagination.
I cannot bare to longer give them hope, for I have not a glimpse of hope remaining inside of me.
Shadows surrounding me. My very own shadow hunting me, touching the end of my cloak dragging me to a place I cannot seem to reach, even as I raise my arm as far as I could without falling. The shadow crawling across my skin until my entire body was consumed by darkness.
My thoughts conjuring about the same things swirling around as I make everyone dream of sorrow, pain…despair.
I have grown a hollow shell – a fragment of what I used to be – empty…hopeless…sad.
My sister used to tell me that everyone can achieve to embark on a journey into the light, to walk across the road, the lonely path to reach for it.
I hope I can get to see it to, for I am afraid I can no longer keep this burden alive.
I feel like I have given up on myself, my duty, my existence. Clearly this is not my decision to be taken. But what is a dream if not a light at the end of a dark road.
I can no longer be that dream. I have been covered in scars of my own thoughts. Scars that I had caused myself – scars that I never intended to wear, and it feels like everyone can see them – can see my weakness. Everyone except me – I cannot see them, I can only feel them. Every single movement, every single thought coming from my head feels like a knife cutting through the flesh of my mortal shell, my hollow body, the crowded mind.
My weakness had brought me here, not even strong enough to reign and protect my own kingdom, to fulfill my function, I have failed – I failed everyone, my kingdom, my subjects, my son, my family, even those dear to me and I clearly have failed myself.
Failures are not meant to be immortal, they are meant to be erased, to be corrected, to shape a better future, to shape a future safe and full of hope.
Thus, it is time to leave.
Yes, I am afraid so...
I am afraid it is time...
...I give up.