Disclaimer: Dream and all Sandman characters are the creations of Neil Gaiman and Mike Dringenberg and trademarks of DC Comics and Vertigo. Tethys belongs to The Dreaming comic series. Esme and Tranquil are my creations and not to be used in any stories without my permission. This is a labor of love, and no money is being made off of it. Yadda, yadda, yadda..

Thanks to queenB and Eden for their help and encouragement on this story. Hi, guys! Also, a huge thanks to the late and great John Lennon and his musical talent.

"There are places I'll remember,

All my life

Though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better;

Some have gone, and some remain."

"All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall.

Some are dead, and some are living;

In my life, I've loved them all."

"But of all these friends and lovers,

There is no one compares with you.

And these mem'ries lose their meaning

When I think of love as something new."

"Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before,

I know I'll often stop and think about them.

In my life, I love you more."

"Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before,

I know I'll often stop and think about them.

In my life, I love you more."

"In my life, I love you more."

- John Lennon , "In My Life"

The young woman reclined rather uncomfortably on the park bench with her sketchbook, drawing the objects around her. Her current sketch of the Golden Gate Bridge wasn't turning out as well as she had hoped. She simply scrunched her nose up in disappointment and ripped the drawing out of her sketchbook. Sighing heavily, she decided to give her pencil a rest for a while. After packing her pad and pencil away in her backpack, Esme began to just watch. There was so much to experience by simply observing. Esme looked on as tourists new to San Francisco marveled at the bay and children escaped from their mothers to go roll in the grass with their dogs.

A wet gust of wind blew in from the ocean, only slightly upsetting Esme's cropped, dirty blonde hair. The trees around her rustled, the bright sunlight that shone though their branches seeming to sparkle like fairy dust. Like magic.

Esme smiled and tucked away the image in her mind with her other beloved memories.

She was the kind of person who craved those special things in life, not quite satisfied with the world at face value. She knew there had to be something more, so whatever glimpses she caught of that special quality, she cherished. Esme had learned where to find enchantment in her life, and she went there often, especially when she was feeling low. An average mortal girl, she had taught herself where to find that special charm.

The thrill of a stolen kiss from a boy you just met.

Reading a story so fascinating that it draws you into it and makes it a part of you.

The unbreakable, invisible tie between mother and daughter, even over the distance of thousands of miles.

All these things contained that spark that Esme loved and saved for herself and her work.

However, nothing contained more magic than those nightly plays in her mind.

Dreams.

Usually, she dreamt of things out of fairy tales, the original ones, which she always thought were more interesting. Sometimes, she'd be a beautiful princess in a tall tower. In other dreams, she had the role of a warrior who saved the kingdom and was rewarded even though her gender was discovered by the king. Often, she was both at the same time. However, Esme's usually comforting dreams had recently begun disturbing and confusing her, stopping just short of being scary. They'd all been basically the same, though the first ones, which had started less than a month ago, had been quite vague.

First, it had been the ghost of a face, floating in the darkness, not as ominous as one might assume. Only one thing disturbed her about it.

The face had no eyes. Not even eye sockets. Just...shadow. Over the course of a few weeks, the blurred lines began to focus, and the face became clearer. Still, she could see no eyes where they should have been. By now, the image was pristine and crisp, almost solid. It loomed in the void before her. She couldn't move toward it or away, for the place wasn't a place, and she had no body to move. She could only see and feel and sense, though not with her eyes and fingers, but with her being.

That face was gazing upon her naked soul with its eyes that weren't even there.

Still, where many people would have been terrified, Esme stood her ground, so to speak, and was unafraid. She studied the face in her mind, both while dreaming and not, sometimes conjuring up the image during the day for a lack of better things to do. It was a man, she decided. The face was beautiful. So pale, though. She could see wild, white hair draping over its forehead, as though the person it belonged to needed a comb badly.

That night was no different. As soon as Esme drifted off, there he was, gazing at her, forever passive. She began to wonder whether he could even see her or not.

This dream began to take on a different quality, however. Suddenly, Esme was able to wriggle her fingers, which hadn't been there before. Her eyes opened. Her arms stretched.

And there was more than just a face before her.

Right in front of the woman sat a man in a plain white chair, seemingly in deep meditation. He wore all white, which matched his unnaturally pale skin and hair. If she hadn't known better, Esme might have taken him for a marble statue. The thin fingers of his right hand were brought up to his brow as he sat, seemingly waiting, bracing themselves should his frail-looking neck give out under the weight of his thoughts.

Esme, suddenly unsure of herself, cursed softly, "Damn. Why won't you just go away...?"

Despite her reservations, she approached what she sensed was a king on his throne. A king of what, though?

Ever so slowly, she reached out her hand to touch his arm, half expecting it to go straight through the vision. It didn't. He was quite solid. Once more, he wasn't of cold stone. His skin gave softly under her fingers, telling her that he was indeed of flesh and bone like her.

There was no reaction from the man. He simply sat, perfectly still, and thought. It appeared so to Esme, anyway. She gently put her hand to his cheek. She almost found herself enjoying the sensation. She then hesitated, sobering up to the fact that she was stroking the face of a complete stranger even though she could almost put a name to his face. Esme quickly snatched her hand away. Still, the man didn't move or react in any way.

"I'm being silly," Esme admonished herself. She shook her head. "God, why does it have to me?" It wasn't a prayer, for Esme hadn't prayed since she was a little girl. Less hesitant than before, figuring that nothing could really go wrong in a dream, she kneeled in front of the throne, trying to catch his downward cast eyes. His eyes...

He did have eyes, after all. Though, they were like no others she had ever seen. Pure black like the vacuum of space, a small star shining in each pupil with a startling intensity.

It wasn't his strange eyes that concerned her, however. From the look on his face, it looked as if the man was in pain. A rush of sympathy overcame Esme, and she suddenly wanted more than anything to comfort him. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug and trying to make him forget all his worries.

Suddenly, the still figure hugged her back, shocking poor Esme. He whispered her name in her ear, "Esme..."

Esme fell back, landing on the floor behind her. Green eyes wide, she watched the man stand up before her, holding out a hand as if to help her up. Again, he called to her, "Esme. Esme, I love you." He came toward her. "Come to me." She inched backwards into the darkness, keeping her eyes on the stranger. Once more, he reached out to her....

Esme woke up in her small bed, her legs tangled up in the thin covers. She sat up, still shaking off the strange images of the dream. Somehow, she knew that there would be no more mysterious faces looming in her dreams. She tried to make sense out of what she had seen.

"He loves me? How could he love me? He's a dream, a figment of my imagination," she told herself quietly as she got out of bed, her flannel night clothes a mess. Esme checked the clock. 1:38 A.M. "It's way too early for me to be up...." Still, she wasn't tired anymore and had no desire to go back to sleep. She was afraid that she might have to face the pale man again. Who was he, and who did he think he was?

Esme went into the kitchen and dining room of her studio apartment and made herself a pot of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Sipping on a cup of black, something she usually didn't do, preferring lots of cream and sugar, the young woman got a newspaper off of the table. Thursday, May 22nd, 2008. It was a few days old, but she needed something to occupy her time. Esme read the entire paper, front page to personals, a few times, until the sun came up.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Dream King opened his eyes to see his throne room once again. He frowned. "She refused me...." He ran his fingers through his hair in concern. "What if she keeps refusing me?" Giving a sigh, Dream stood up and draped his white cloak back over his shoulders. He mulled the situation over in his mind and descended the stairs slowly. As he exited the room and closed the door behind him, he noticed a white raven perched on a wall ledge in the corridor.

"Hello, Tethys." He looked up at the bird, a solemn expression on his face although that wasn't all that unusual.

"Hello, M'Lord," Tethys replied. "Any luck?"

Dream looked down again. "No. She was frightened of me." He began to walk down the hallway to nowhere in particular, perhaps Lucien's library. Tethys flew over and landed lightly on his shoulder.

"Perhaps next time," he encouraged. "I'm quite sure that she will around sooner or later."

Dream gave another sigh. "Perhaps. I think I shall try another approach."

Tethys cocked her feathered head. "Oh?"

"I've seen her dreams. Her hopes. I can give her what she craves," he explained. "Magic."

"Is that why you love her, M'Lord?" Tethys asked abruptly. Realizing how rude that had sounded, she lowered her head a bit.

Dream, though a bit annoyed by the question, wasn't in the mood to even give his friend a stern look. "That, Tethys, is none of your concern. I love her because I do."

Tethys knew from experience to settle for that rather cryptic answer. "Yes, M'Lord. Of course."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Wow, you look pretty bad, Ez," commented the ebony-skinned girl. Esme looked up briefly from her sketch pad, giving her a slightly irritated look. "Gee, thanks, Mike. Not much sleep." There were dark bags under Esme's eyes, and her temper was abnormally short.

"Well, drink up, then!" Mike nudged Esme's cup of hot tea further toward her friend's side of the cafe table. "You look like you could use the caffeine." She smiled her wide, bright smile, trying to cheer Esme up.

Esme set down her pad and took a second to gulp down the rest of her drink, which seared her throat. She tried not to let the pain show on her face.

"Hey, who's this?" Mike asked, looking at Esme's recent drawings. "He's not bad lookin'.

A squeeze of yours?" She teased the now blushing Esme, giving a wry grin.

Esme grabbed the papers from Mike's hands. "Of course not! Since when have I been into guys?" Esme grinned back, the first positive sign from her since she had met with her friend at the outdoor restaurant. "He's...no one...."

Mike looked at her critically. "No one? It has to be someone. Otherwise, why would you draw him?"

"Well, he's someone I saw in my dreams last night. He's not even real."

"Oh, I see. Your dream guy?"

Esme's cheeks flushed again. "Stop it!" She looked back down at her work and sighed.

Tracing the mysterious man's face with a fingertip, she remembered his words: "Esme, I love you." She had copied her dream onto paper exactly. The dream man had the same meditative position, resting in his chair, his face filled with troubles, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders alone. She had worked hardest on the eyes, which was strange for something so simple. Somehow, she couldn't seem to capture the intensity that existed in their darkness. After that night, she couldn't stop thinking about him and the enigma he presented.

"Yoo-hoo! You there?" Mike snapped her fingers.

"Huh?" Esme's head shot up.

"I lost you there for a moment. You took a little trip to La-La Land." Mike caught sight of her watch. "Oh, God! I have to go! We've been talking for over an hour." She stood up quickly, slapped down some money for her part of the bill, and grabbed her purse. "Bye, Ez! I hope you feel better soon." After patting her friend quickly on the shoulder, Mike hopped onto her bike and pedaled off to a job interview.

Esme watched her go. Standing up slowly, careful not to fall over, she slung her pack over her shoulders and put down her money, leaving plenty left over for an ample tip. She grabbed her pad and pencil and caught a cable car to Golden Gate Park. Maybe there she could get some peace of mind.

* * * * * * * * * *

Esme got in early that afternoon. For her, at least. She felt like an authentic zombie, her eyes the weight of two fat elephants. She sloppily poured some dry cat food into a small dish, bringing little Vader scampering in for an early meal. She stroked him on the back lovingly once or twice and made her way to the bed, curling up on top of the covers, not even bothering to change. She kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes at last. Sleep came swiftly, as did dreams....

A strong wind rustled the skirt of Esme's green sundress. She smiled and delighted in the way the soft, silken fabric felt against her legs. Giggling to herself, her eyes took in the scene around her. She stood in a large field, the emerald grass blowing in the same breeze that caught her dress. A forest was located not far away. The sky was very strange, lacking a sun and containing clouds in streaks of orange and magenta. Perhaps a sun was there, just hiding.

In this dream, she felt completely free. Still laughing, she ran against the wind, feeling it almost lift her feet from the ground. She knew that if she wished, she could take a leap into the air and fly like a bird. Esme ran until her legs were rubber and gave way beneath her. She fell to the soft ground in hysterics. Her old dreams had returned.

The woman stood up once more and looked to the forest, which seemed to be closer than ever now. Without a second thought, she entered. Almost at once, Esme came upon a babbling brook. Its babbling was quite literal. Thousands of small voices called out from it, though none of them formed words. Perhaps they were words, just in a strange tongue that Esme couldn't know. She wished that she did so that she could learn the stream's secrets.

There was a sound of leaves not a yard from her. Esme quickly hid behind a tree and watched a creature emerge from the bushes to have a drink, the creek protesting in its watery language. Her alarm immediately melted and transformed into wonder. A pure white unicorn rested before her, getting his fill from the spring. Esme's bare foot snapped a twig, causing the unicorn to perk his ears up. The girl slowly came out from hiding and waved coyly. "Hi there!" she greeted him softly. To her surprise, instead of running away, the unicorn came up to her and nudged her hand. Grinning at the show of affection, she petted his head and scratched him behind the ears.

He seemed to love it.

"You're a beautiful boy, aren't you?" It was true. He was so white that he seemed to shine with a silver sheen. It reminded Esme of the moon. "Do you have a name?" He just looked back at her, not having to give an answer. "How 'bout I name you?" She ran her hand over his wild, silvery mane. "Like the moon...like the Sea of Tranquility." She recalled her astronomy teachings. "Tranquility. That describes you perfectly.... You like that name?" He almost seemed to nod. "Okay, then. I'll call you Tranquil for short." She gave Tranquil's strong neck a quick squeeze.

Esme sat down beside the brook again, Tranquil following suit. She bent down to have a drink. The water was sweet. She watched as Tranquil nibbled on a bit of colorful mushroom. Feeling a bit hungry herself, Esme grabbed one growing beside her and took a bite. "Mmm...that's good!" The girl and the unicorn sat there for many minutes, eating, drinking, and enjoying each other.

Finally, Esme stood up and stretched. She had the itch to explore. As if on command, Tranquil stood up and leaned down a bit, waiting for Esme to climb on. She shrugged and mounted. It felt unnatural being so high off of the ground. "Uh...giddy-up?"

Tranquil took off, dashing in between the trees at a blinding speed. Esme held onto his neck for dear life, afraid of falling off and breaking hers. "Stop! Stop!" she cried. The unicorn halted, accidentally flinging Esme to the ground. As she tried to regain composure, she heard a muffled exclamation from one of the trees. She was able to muster a weak "Who's there?"

"An escort," the female voice called down. "Are you all right?"

She stood up shakily, using Tranquil as crutch, and nodded. "Escort? Where are you?"

A bundle of white feathers swooped down to a low branch on the nearest tree. "Yes. I am Tethys."

Somehow, the sight of a talking raven didn't startle Esme that much, not when she had just fallen off of a unicorn.

"I was sent here to bring you to my master."

"Who's you master?" Esme asked, curious.

"The King of Dreams, Prince of Stories, Lord Dream," replied Tethys. "He wants to see you."

Realization struck the girl. "That's him! I've met him."

"He told me. He said you were scared."

Esme looked down a bit. "Well, I was just startled, really. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, if I did."

The raven shook her head. "I doubt it. He's quite the resilient one." There was a trace of a smile on her beak. "Now, would you and your unicorn like to follow me? Please be more careful this time." With that, she took off on a route leading to the heart of the Dreaming. Esme mounted Tranquil again. "Follow Tethys, Tranquil." He looked at her for a second and began to gallop, a bit slower this time, after the bird. The ride seemed to take forever. Esme started to notice that they were going in a very roundabout, spiral pattern. "Hey, Tethys," she called to their leader, "why don't we just go straight?"

"I'm afraid that this is the only route to the castle. You must be patient." She paused for a moment. "If that was a pegasus instead of a unicorn, we would be able to travel much faster." Esme silently agreed. Nothing more was said for a while until they neared their destination. "See those?" the raven asked. "Those are the Gates of Horn. We are almost there."

Esme simply nodded, not knowing what to expect once they passed through them. The gates swung open for them to enter. The girl looked up and stared in awe at the marvelous sight. The castle was more beautiful than anything should could ever have imagined. Tall, glimmering spires of glass and silver. Windows that shone like jewels in the sun. The large front entrance was guarded by a gyphon, a wyvern, and a hippogryph, which Esme recognized from her books on folklore and mythological animals. Standing in front of the tall doors was the man from last night, Lord Dream, she knew. As she was led up to him, she could see the promise of magic in his dark eyes.

"Welcome." Dream held out his hand to Esme, offering to help her off her mount. Recalling the dream from the night before, Esme recoiled slightly. However, after seeing the rather hurt look on the man's face, she reluctantly took his hand. It was cold, as if he had been outside in the snow without his gloves.

Esme hopped down, trying to do it with minimal help from her pale host. Dream took both her hands in his and smiled down at her ever-so-slightly. Still a little wary, Esme backed off from him a little bit and started to stroke Tranquil as she watched Dream introduce himself. His smile disappeared, but he went on anyway. "I, as Tethys might have told you, am Lord Dream of this realm. This is my castle."

The girl looked back as if he was saying the most obvious things in the universe. He might as well say "The sky is blue." Well, she thought, I guess that wouldn't count here. Still, he is trying. She extended a hand to shake his. "Um...I'm Esme."

"I know." To Esme's surprise, instead of shaking her hand, Dream kissed it.

She grinned, forgetting her situation for a moment. "Quite a gentleman, huh?"

He raised a brow slightly.

Esme shook her head a bit, still smiling. "It's rhetorical."

"Indeed." He turned to the raven pruning herself on the steps. "Tethys?"

She looked up. "Yes, M'Lord?"

"Lead Tranquil to the stables."

Tethys paused. "I'm afraid that we have none."

Dream closed his eyes for a moment and flicked his right wrist slightly. He opened his eyes again. "We have one now."

"Yes, M'Lord...." Tethys took to the air. "Come along, Mister Unicorn."

Tranquil stayed with Esme, nuzzling her neck. She scratched his nose and pointed. "Go on. I'll see you later." She kissed him on the head and sent him off with the raven, leaving her alone with the Dream King. She looked back up at him, not sure what to say to such a powerful being now that it was just them.

Sensing her discomfort, Dream took ahold of one of her hands and led her up to the doors. Pushing open one of the large doors, he turned to her. "Now, for the castle tour." The two entered, and the doors shut heavily behind them.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Of course, there is far too much to my home to give you a truly complete tour," the tall, pale man stated as he and his guest slowly walked down the halls of the castle. "Its structure changes everyday. Some rooms disappear or are uncreated by me. A staircase could suddenly lead to nowhere." Dream glanced down at Esme's face, wondering if he'd impressed her.

He could tell by her wide eyes that he'd succeeded. Esme took in every facet of the passageway, quite convinced by Dream's talk that it would disappear as soon as they turned the next corner. As soon as they did, it was all she could do to resist turning around to see. Suddenly, she noticed a large, rather conspicuous doorway, which took her mind off of it. Finally, she said her first words since Dream had greeted her at the door. "What's this?"

Dream was glad to at last see Esme do something other than walk and listen. "That is Lucien's library. You can go take a look, if you would like."

Without a second thought or look up at Dream's face, Esme stepped through the entry and into a huge room, neat shelves of countless books reaching all the way up to the high ceiling. It was a wonder they didn't topple and scatter everything in a tremendous domino effect. Esme was sure that that would upset the librarian beyond belief. Where was this Lucien, anyway?

"Hello, Lucien," came Dream's soft voice from behind Esme. Though the voice was far from frightning, she almost jumped out of her skin. Esme hadn't been aware that he'd even followed her.

A strange, pointy-eared man looked up from a book on a desk that had eluded Esme's attention. He adjusted his large, round spectacles. "Ah, my Lord. Good to see you again." He bowed and caught sight of Esme. "And who is your female guest?"

"Lucien, this is Esme. Esme, Lucien." He gave her a small push towards Lucien, who stood up to shake her hand. While Dream was quite a bit taller than she, Lucien utterly towered over her. It was quite awkward. He shook her hand quickly and sat back down again, hoping it didn't seem rude to Dream. "Feel free to browse whenever you like, my dear." Esme smiled. "Thanks. I think I might."

A thought came to Lucien. "Young Esme, what is your last name."

She hesitated. Dream said nothing, interested in what Lucien had planned. "O'Sullivan."

Lucien smiled. "Yes. I have quite a few works by you....Would you care to see?"

Esme was taken aback. "But I've never even written a book!"

"Exactly!" the tall man exclaimed, standing up once more. He moved swiftly to a section of the library with several works by an Esme O'Sullivan, the young woman on his heels. He handed one to her. "I've read it. You're quite gifted." She stared at the tome in her hands. It looked just bound, brand new. "Dreams of an Artist," she read off of the cover. Esme flipped through the first few pages. It was a complete journal of all the dreams she'd ever had, up until last night, and her thoughts on them.

"Illustrated by the author, of course," Lucien said warmly. The girl looked up at Lucien's pointed face, warm tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away and looked down at her novel once more. "I've always wanted to record all my dreams like this, so that I'd never forget, like I always did.... But..." She faltered, her tongue seemingly in a knot.

"You see, this is the Library of the Never Published. Any secret story you have that you always longed to put to paper but never did resides here. In this case, the work is still being written. There are blank pages in the back." Esme checked, and, sure enough, well over half of the book was completely blank.

"It will be finished one day, but that day is a long way off." He took the heavy object from her hands. "You can come back at any time and read it. You are welcome here." She smiled up at him weakly. "Thank you...."

"Now," the librarian said in a more hushed tone, "I believe that Lord Dream would like me to return you to his company."

Esme turned around to see a pale figure waiting patiently in front of Lucien's desk. He hadn't followed her. At the sight, she felt a bit guilty. "Again, thank you, Lucien. I guess that I should get back to him...."

He placed a large, thin hand on her shoulder. "A pleasure." If it wouldn't have made her feel so goofy, Esme might have curtsied or something along those lines. Instead, she gave another quick grin and returned to Dream.

The Dream King took her hand and led her back into the hallway. "I still have much to show you."

Lucien gave a light sigh and sat down at his desk again. "Sweet girl," he muttered to himself as he began to get back into his story. "I hope it works out for her and Lord Dream. She's such a sweet girl...."

* * * * * * * * * *

Dream led Esme out of his throne room. By this time, Esme had begun to feel a little more comfortable around him.

"Wow, this building has some of the most amazing architecture I've ever seen." She was still trying to understand how a room could have no ceiling, just a sky full of stars.

"It take it that you like it."

She nodded. "Yeah. It's beautiful."

"I have one last place to show you," he told the girl.

"What could top that?"

At the end of a hallway, not far from Dream's throne room, was a set of humble, wooden doors. Well, it might have been further from the last room than it seemed, for Esme couldn't be sure in this place. Dream turned a knob and let Esme go in first. It wasn't mind-bending or abstract in any way, but it was wonderful, nonetheless.

"It's yours. I created it for you before you arrived." Esme stood in the middle of the room, examining it. It looked very Victorian, just like in the old houses Esme used to love to explore. The room almost shone with warm orange and gold colors. The walls, carpet, furniture all seemed to glow with the heat of the sun. A soft-looking four poster bed sat in the corner, its polished oak surfaces gleaming. It was stunning. Still, Esme could only think of one thing to say.

"Well, it has a ceiling."

She looked back at Dream, who was noticably disappointed with her reaction. "Sorry. I've just never been good at accepting gifts." She went over to Dream and hugged him, nesting her nose in his white shirt. "It is wonderful. Thank you."

Dream put a cold hand on Esme's neck, causing her to jump. She pushed away from him a bit and glanced up at his face, which looked solemn but not so discouraged as before. He seemed to be expecting something. She just stared up into his star-eyes, not knowing what he wanted.

Finally, he spoke. "Esme, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Lord Dream."

"Call me simply 'Dream.' I'm not your lord." He cleared his throat a bit. "I'm afraid that it's a bit forward."

Esme grinned. "Forget the manners. Just shoot."

A confused expression possessed Dream's face. "Shoot what?"

"Just ask me."

He turned his back to her as he asked, "Why don't you love me?"

Esme was a bit shocked. "Uh...why do you ask?"

Dream sat gracefully in one of the two chairs in the room and folded his hands in his lap. Esme stood before him, as if on trial. "Esme, I have given you nothing but hospitality. I have provided your Tranquil with stables, shown you around my home, and introduced you to many residents of the castle, yet you don't seem to care for me."

A little indignant and a little amused, Esme placed her hands on her hips. "Dream, you can't expect that sort of thing right away just because you're nice to me." She crouched down beside his chair, trying not to raise her voice too much. "You have allow these things to grow, okay?"

He looked at her. "You remind me of my sister sometimes."

"Who?"

"Death."

"Oh...well, thanks." Esme smiled and ran a hand through his white hair, trying to make him feel better. It was so soft. He seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. "I do like you."

Suddenly, she felt a strange tugging at the back of her mind. Esme gave a quick groan and sat down on the bed.

"Are you all right?" asked a concerned Dream.

"It feels like someone's yanking at my mind...."

"You're going to wake up soon. Lie down. You'll find yourself back here tomorrow night."

She curled up on top of the soft covers and yawned.

"Okay...good-bye, Dream."

"Good-bye for now." He stood by the bed and watched as

Esme's form slowly faded away into the Waking.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had been several nights since Esme's first visit to the heart of the Dreaming. She hadn't remembered much of her dreams from the nights before when she'd woken-up, and she knew she wouldn't remember this one the next morning, either. Still, while she was within the walls of the castle, she remembered everything that had transpired there. It was strange. Esme didn't completely understand it, but she accepted it, nonetheless.

She was curled up on a large, soft reading cushion in the library, her legs tucked underneath her. For the past four hours, she'd been devouring book after un-written book. They were all so wonderful. Last night, she had spent her whole visit there, just enjoying the stories that she knew she would never be able to find in the waking world. She grinned to herself. Her friend Mike was a very good writer even though she wasn't aware of it.

There was the sudden feeling of eyes watching her. Esme looked up from the book to see those two intense dark orbs watching her. She idly brushed a tendril of golden hair out of her eyes. "I...didn't hear you walk up."

"I didn't," he replied plainly. "What are you reading?"

She looked at the cover of the leather-bound book in her hands. "Oh...just some never written poems."

"You seem to be quite fond of this library."

She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I love to read, and Lucien's nice."

"I wish you would spend some more time with me. Don't you think I am nice?" He kneeled beside her on the polished floor.

Esme tucked another stray stand behind her ear and looked down at her lap. "Yeah, sure I do." Her eyes found their way back up and met his once again. Gently, Dream took her delicate hand in his and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips were less than an inch apart when Esme suddenly pulled away.

Dream opened his eyes when his mouth met thin air. He looked at the girl curiously. "What's the matter?"

Esme took her hand from his. "N-nothing. I'm fine." She tried to smile, but all she managed was a weak grin. Without the slightest movement of his face, Dream seemed to frown. "Do I...scare you?"

Esme shook her head. "No, it's not that."

He seemed relieved. "I was afraid that you saw me as, some might say, 'creepy.'"

A genuine beam spread across her face, and Esme laughed a bit. That seemingly small sound comforted him somehow. "Creepy? No..." She looked into space as she seemed to search for stray words in the library to catch and use in her sentences. "It's just...you're Dream. I'm just, well, Esme. The thought of you wanting me like that is a little...intimidating." She wondered if he could possibly understand how insignificant she felt next to him.

"I see. Is there anything I can do?"

She knew he couldn't really see what she felt, but he really wanted to try. Scooting over on the large pillow, she invited him to sit. Rather reluctantly, he obliged. "Do you like this kind of stuff? Poems, I mean."

"I've heard quite a few. Some are better than others."

"I'll take that as a yes." Esme opened up to a random page.

"Would you like me to read?"

"Of course." For the first time since Esme had met him, Dream seemed to actually relax.

Clearing her throat, she began:

"'My heart is mine and mine alone.

You can never have it.

My soul and mind aren't yours to own,

So don't even try.

I might be willing to lend them out,

If you really mean it.

You may give your heart to me,

But you can only borrow mine.'"

After she finished, Esme just stared at the page, her cheeks turning a bright crimson. "I...I'm sorry. I should have picked a better one...." She turned her head in his direction. "Not very ro-" Esme was cut off in mid-sentence by Dream's lips, which, to her surprise, were quite warm. She had no desire to push him away this time. They kissed sweetly for five agonizingly brief seconds and then opened their eyes. Dream smiled ever so slightly. He knew she was his.

Years passed. Three, to be exact. Each night, Esme would arrive at Dream's castle in the heart of the Dreaming. She became quite accustomed to the wonderous rooms and unusual inhabitants of the place. In fact, it almost became like a second home to her.

As she became more comfortable with her surroundings, Esme also cared more and more for its lord, Dream. He wooed her like she knew no mortal man ever could. After a few months, she found herself responding to it and, to her surprise, returning his affections. She started going to bed early and sleeping late into the afternoon just to spend more time with him in his realm. The two became inseparable. It became a common sight to the castle's staff to see Dream and Esme walking down the castle corridors, hand-in-hand.

However, their relationship only went to a certain point and never entered the bedroom. Esme wouldn't allow it. Despite several valiant attempts by Dream, she refused. So their relationship remained chaste. He learned to become satisfied with her love and the occasional kiss. He was really, truly happy, as she was....

* * * * * * * * * *

The refreshing night wind whipped through Esme's hair, which now extended past her shoulders and down her back. Her hands clutched at the leather reins and wrapped them tightly around her wrists. A serene smile on her face, she gazed down onto the pasture below and the glass and silver mansion in the distance. She gave gentle pressure on her mount's sides with her heels. "G'wan, Tranquil!"

The silvery unicorn bounded down the hillside and over the vast expanses of the Dreaming's heart. Esme laughed with delight as he leapt over a large rock. Loving the exhilaration of the ride, she urged him on faster and faster. Under the moonlight, mount and rider galloped over the grass like there was no tomorrow. A pale man watched

from the top of a mound.

Dream smiled. "I haven't been this content in a long while, Tethys," he said to the white bird on his shoulder.

"To be fair, M'Lord, you haven't been around very long," she replied.

His face became serious again. "You forget," he responded, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice, "that I am Dream of the Endless. I have been in existence since nearly the beginning of time. My memories extend far beyond that of this aspect. When I say a long while, I mean a long while." Tethys ruffled her pure feathers in a disconcerted fashion, a few tufts of down floating away lazily in the breeze.

"Sorry, M'Lord. I have trouble understanding the situation at times."

"As I would expect." A small grin returned to his lips as he watched Esme approach.

"Hi, Dream." She smiled down from the saddle.

"Hello."

Esme hopped down onto the ground and hugged Dream's waist happily.

"You are dismissed, Tethys," Dream addressed the raven, conveying his in his voice that he wished to be alone with Esme. Understanding, Tethys quietly flapped her white wings and took to the air, letting the air currents lead her to Eve and her cave.

One arm still around Dream, Esme turned to scratch Tranquil's nose. "Just us, then?"

He ran his thin fingers through her blonde hair. "Seems so."

Esme's eyes looked up to the sky. "It's beautiful tonight."

"Yes," Dream agreed. He followed her gaze up to the large moon hung expertly in the sky by Mervyn's crew. He remembered the day before when he'd ordered the special starry sky and silver moon for Esme's ride. He'd have to do something nice for Mervyn and Abudah soon. They deserved recognition for their efforts.

Tired from the ride, the girl sat on the grass. Dream had no choice but to do so also. As he looked at her, Esme ruffled his hair playfully. She was the only being alive whom he would allow to do that. She turned her eyes upwards once more. "Really something..."

"It is quite perfect."

"Reminds me of the nights when I'd camp out on the lawn and watch the meteor showers." Esme sighed contentedly. "I haven't done that for years now...."

Without a word, Dream raised his hand to the sky and seemed to run his finger over the scattering of stars. Slowly, streaks of light began to pierce the fabric of the sky. The sky became filled with white meteors. Dream looked over to the girl beside him.

Her gaze was fixed on the display above them. "Just like I remember..."

The spectacle, which covered the whole of the Dreaming, from the Love Fields to the House of Secrets, lasted for a good ten minutes. Somewhere, Mervyn could be heard cursing about the mess he was going to have to clean up in the morning.

Despite the fact that all dreamers and dreams alike that night were witness to the sight, it was meant solely for Esme.

After a lengthy silence, Esme spoke up. "How long has it been, Dream? How long have we been together?"

"Three years, I think." He held her close. "And many more to come, I hope."

"You know," she continued, the gaiety leaving her voice, "that it can't last forever."

His head lowered a bit. "Yes... I know."

"I wouldn't have brought it up, usually. It's just that I've been thinking about it lately." She looked over at him slowly. "Did I ruin the mood?"

He shook his head. "No. I would be lying if I said that the subject had never occured to me." His eyes closed for a brief moment. "However, I chose a while ago not to think about it."

Esme touched his cheek sadly. "You don't honestly think this can go on forever, do you?"

All he could do was look into her green eyes pleadingly. She began to play with his ear. "I am mortal. I'm going to die someday...."

"I know," he said, his voice a little weaker than usual. Wrapping her arms around his thin neck, the young woman tried to comfort him. "I guess we should cherish this time while we have it, huh?" He could feel her smile. Esme nuzzled her nose in his soft hair, breathing in his smell.

"Yes..." Dream stared into space, trying not to imagine life without his beloved. He felt her soft lips against his cheek. "I...must think. Excuse me." He released himself from Esme's embrace and stood up. "I shall call you when I need you."

Esme stayed on the grass and watched him dissipate into nothing. She was a little perplexed. "What does he need to think about, I wonder...?" Standing up herself, she took Tranquil's reins once more. "Let's get you back to the stables, boy. Maybe I'll feed you some carrots."

* * * * * * * * * *

Dream of the Endless walked the winding halls. He didn't care to go his throne room at the moment. He felt that he had to keep moving so that the pain of knowing wouldn't catch up with him. Esme's observation rang all too true with him. It was undeniable that she would die and he would live on without her. However, no matter how much he knew it, he couldn't accept it. I can't lose her, he thought to himself.

As he traveled through his home, his mood became darker and darker. The nearby servants made sure to stay out of his way. It was always apparent when the Lord Shaper wasn't to be bothered. It could be felt in the air, almost smelled. Like the electricity before a thunderstorm. It was rumored that a couple of minor dreams had been banished to the Darkness years ago just for drawing his attention after he'd had a bad spat with his sister Death. True or not, it made most avoid him when he didn't want to talk to anyone. That was perfectly all right with Dream.

It horrified Dream to even consider spending the rest of eternity without Esme. So he didn't consider it. It was Esme that he relied upon to give meaning to his existence. She was a part of him by now. He didn't just love her. He needed her, in the most desperate sense of the word. In fact, Dream couldn't even remember how he'd gotten by before her. At the thought of losing her one day, he felt ill.

There must be a way. He closed his eyes in thought.

Somehow, he navigated the halls perfectly, even without seeing. There must be some way that I can... He stopped in his tracks as he recalled his Treasure Room. Surely, there would be a solution there. Not wanting to wait through the walk there, Dream merely was there.

He reached out and opened the doors to the Treasure Room.

As he stepped in, he realized that he'd never really been in there before. Not once in his reign as new Dream Lord had he set foot in there. Of course, he still had memories of the place and knew where everything was.

The room was littered with little trinkets and magical baubles, some of which had been there longer than the universe had been in existence. Only Dream and a very small handful of others were allowed access to this room. Not even Lucien, one of Dream's most trusted staff members, was allowed to even peek inside. Lucien wasn't of the overly curious type, so this had never been a problem. Probably no more than five individuals in the whole history of the Dreaming had ever been in there.

I really wish that I'd been able to keep this place relatively tidy, Dream thought. Over the aeons, the shelves had overflowed, and the room became too cluttered to even consider cleaning up. Not that Dream would have allowed any of his cleaners in the place to actually do the job. It was inconceivable the damage that could be done should even one of the objects in the room fall into inexperienced -- or worse, diabolical -- hands.

There was a wide variety of little, and not-so-little, treasures in the room. Love potions. Secret spells written on bits of skin in languages from long-dead worlds. Glamour gems. A couple of bottled-up demons that had crossed the old Dream, Morpheus. Even a mundane egg, one of the only two known to still exist. The other belonged to Titania, Queen of Faerie. These, and many other things, occupied the infinite space in the Dream King's Treasure Room. In boxes and chests. On shelves and tables. Whatever Dream needed, he would certainly find it here.

Dream took a silent toll of the room and focused his attention on a dark wooden cupboard set inconspicuously in a corner. He went over to it and opened it. Sitting in the middle of the spacious cabinet was a small, plain box, carved long ago out of driftwood from the Shores of Dream. Picking it up off of its soft pillow, Dream could feel the gentle heat pulsating from the inside of the box.

He popped open the lid and smiled. The perfect gift.

* * * * * * * * * *

Esme stepped into the small, yet luxurious, room. Dream saw her and stood from his seat at the small table in the middle of the room. "You called for me?"

He walked over to her. "Yes, I did. I have some things that I would like to...discuss with you."

They locked hands. "Oh... What kinds of things?"

Dream hesitated, obviously disturbed by the matters at hand. "I started thinking...about what you said earlier on about your dying...."

"Uh-huh..." She kissed his shoulder and listened.

"Well, I..." He paused. "Would you like to talk about it over dinner?"

Esme grinned. "Sure."

They both sat at the table, which had a wonderful view of the Dreaming from a large window beside it. Esme had never seen this room before.

"Why don't we eat in the main dining hall?" she asked.

Dream rested his chin on his thumbs. "I feel that the main hall is too public for this discussion. I prefer some privacy."

"Oh..." She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

A dream thing approached them, pencil and paper at hand. "What would you like this evening?" it asked.

Dream thought for a moment. "I think I shall have stuffed mushrooms and a small bowl of bird's nest soup."

The dream waiter scribbled it down. "And to drink?"

"Some of my finest fairy wine."

"Very nice." The thing turned to Esme. "And you?"

"Um... I'll just have two slices of cheese pizza and a Coke. Lots of ice." Dream grinned slightly at her choice.

It wrote the orders down on its pad of paper. "Your food will be here shortly." The waiter silently walked off to what Esme supposed was a kitchen. She couldn't be sure. She looked back at the man sitting across from her. "So?"

"So...I wanted to discuss your...mortality."

"Yeah? What about it?" She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

"Our talk earlier, as I said, got me to thinking. About us. Our future."

Esme idly played a monotone song on the tines of her fork.

"Yeah. Our future..."

"To say the very least, it pains me to think of ever losing you."

Their food was set in front of them. Esme marveled at the speed of the service.

Esme took a bite of her pizza, which was delicious, and swallowed. "Dream, what are you getting at? You know you can't change it."

Dream rested two fingers on a small box whittled from grayed wood. "You would be surprised."

Esme eyed the seemingly unimportant box with curiousity.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can change it. You don't have to die."

She gave an almost nervous laugh. "You can?"

Dream nodded and handed the small box over the table to her. Esme took it in her hands and felt a strange warmth coming from it. This box was very special. "It is a gift," Dream said. "A gift that mortals kill for. Some spend their whole lives in search of what is contained inside that unseemly little container."

Esme looked from the box to Dream's eyes.

"Immortality."

Esme's hands started to tremble. It was so bad that she nearly dropped the box. After setting it down on the table, she hugged her arms and looked over to the side. Dream couldn't tell whether she was excited, overjoyed, or frightened.

"Dream, I..." She looked down at the floor and then out the window. "I..." She couldn't seem to get past that part of the sentence.

"Open the box, and you can have it. It will transform you, but I promise that it won't hurt." He watched her expectantly. "It's a new soul."

Slowly, Esme stood up, carrying the box with her. "I...like my old soul, Dream."

He wasn't sure if she'd actually said that. Was she refusing him? "What?"

She stood beside him. "Dream, I don't want it." She placed the box back in front of him. "I don't want to live forever."

Dream stood up quickly, almost upsetting the table. "Why not? Don't you want to be with me?"

"Of course I do," she replied as she walked over to the window.

He followed her. "Then, open it." He tried to hand the box back to her. Esme wouldn't take it. "We could be together forever. I would marry you and make you my queen. Queen of Dreams. Don't you want that?"

Esme stared out at the Dreaming far below them. "I'd love that...."

Dream didn't understand. "Why...?"

"The price would be too great."

"What could you possibly be losing that would hurt you so?"

Her eyes remained focused on the distant horizon. "My mortality."

"Why would you miss that?"

She lowered her head. "You can't understand...."

Dream hugged her small waist. "I can try."

"Sure, you can try." Esme solemnly pulled his arms from around her. "Can you possibly imagine what it's like to not know how long you're going to be around? Can you understand what I go through, as a mortal? I don't know whether I'll be alive tomorrow, Dream. I don't know if I'll even wake up tomorrow morning, feel the sun on my face.... Can you even begin to comprehend that?"

Dream thought, and, to his dismay, he couldn't. "No." Esme sniffed and blinked back tears. "Then, you can't understand why I refuse." Somehow, she felt the need to try to make him understand. "It's life's...brevity that makes it so wonderous. I don't know how long I have on earth, so I treasure every little moment. Life...is so short. For me, at least. You have an eternity. You can't see things the way I do. In a strange way, I almost feel sorry for you...."

He shook his head, unable to know what she meant. "I always thought that all mortals wanted that gift."

"Not me," Esme replied solemnly.

He felt the wooden object still in his fingers. "I have been begged for this. Tortured for this." He recalled those years ago when he -- no, Morpheus -- had been imprisoned in that goldfish bowl, his captor trying to bargain for power and eternal life.

Tears ran down her face. "I'm sorry."

"Do you really mean it? When you kiss me? Do you really love me?"

A small laugh came from her throat. "Yes, I do. I may not have said it that often, but I do."

He knew she was telling the truth, and that comforted him.

But still... "If that's true, then I don't see why you would turn this down."

"Dammit, Dream," she said in a shaky breath. "I can see what it would be like if I opened that little present of yours. Became immortal. I know we'd be happy at first." Esme wiped her face with her sleeve. "It's always wonderful at first. After a while, though, you'd get tired of my face. You wouldn't want to see me everyday. Eventually, you'd tuck me away in a little corner of the castle. A space for myself where you'd never have to worry about me again. That's what would happen. You'd go and find someone else. I know you would."

"I would never..." Dream seemed to choke on the words. "I will always care for you."

"I know. But you'd forget that you did."

He couldn't argue. Deep down, he knew what she was saying was true. And it hurt more than the thought of losing Esme ever did.

She spoke up again. "Don't you want to remember us like this?" Turning around, Esme wrapped her arms around him.

"With the magic between us? Full of love and happiness...? If it lasted forever, we couldn't have that." Dream could feel her voice in his chest. "This is the way it should be. That's why we have to end it now." The last few words were a dagger in Dream's heart, sharpened by the cold, hard truth. "After all," she continued, looking up at his face, "how can you treasure something that lasts for eternity?" Dream wrenched away from her as he felt himself being torn apart from within. He knew that it was all over. His beautiful world where love conquered all came crashing down, the shards scattering at his feet. This is why, he thought. This is why the Endless and mortals aren't allowed to love each other. I finally understand the rule.... He took a sharp breath inward. "Then...you must go."

Esme accepted it. Things could never have been the same between them after this if they'd decided to go on with their relationship. Not after this. She put a hand on his shaking shoulder. "May I ask a favor of you?"

"Yes," said Dream without turning to look at her.

"Please allow Tranquil to stay. Don't uncreate him." His head turned slightly to glance at her. "How can I? He's no creation of mine. Tranquil is yours." There was a pause.

"He will always have a place in my stables."

"Ride him for me, okay?" Esme's hand grasped his.

He squeezed. "I will do this...."

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. "Dream, why don't you cry?? I'm standing here, blubbering like an idiot, and all you do is stand there!"

"I am Dream of the Endless. I do not cry." In all honesty, he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever felt the urge more strongly than at that moment. However, he couldn't --wouldn't -- allow tears to come.

"You need to loosen up, you know?" Esme said to him almost playfully as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll miss you."

He nodded, and she turned to go. Dream stopped her. "Wait."

She turned toward him again. "Yes?"

"I still owe you a gift."

"I don't want that box, Dream...."

"I know. I speak of a different gift." He pulled her to him and kissed her lightly. He released her after only a moment. "There."

"A kiss?"

"No. I gave you the memory of us. When you awaken, our years together, our love, will stay with you."

"That'll cause me pain...."

He gazed down at her. "I know." He knew it would hurt her, of course. It would hurt her just as it hurt him. It was fair. "This way, you can treasure it. However, I never said the gift would be without its disadvantages...."

"Thank you. For everything. I love you." She gave him a sad kiss on the cheek. "And I'll miss you." Esme turned and left the room, never looking back once. She knew that if she looked back, she would run back into Dream's arms and never leave them. She couldn't let that happen.

From the window of the small dining room, Dream watched as his love exited the doors and left the grounds through the Gates of Horn. Despite the barriers he had constructed in her presence and how much he struggled to maintain his dignity, a single tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. Dark storm clouds gathered in the skies of his realm, and, as the drop slipped from his white chin, thunder rolled in the distance. The sky let loose with full force, releasing sheets of bitter rain in quaking sobs. As the Dream King watched from his window, the Dreaming cried for him.

Esme and Dream went their separate ways. Esme grew older and changed while Dream stayed the same, locked away in his throne room. Being separated from each other hurt, but there was nothing they could do. It was the way things were supposed to be.

Esme kept working as an artist, eventually earning wide acclaim and recognition for her talents. Her paintings and sculptures were sold to museums across America. They went for high prices at auction. It seemed that she'd gotten what she wanted. However, despite her respect in the artist community and financial success, she felt hollow.

She never married, had a family. When asked about it, she always laughed and said that she never had the time. In truth, she really tried. It wasn't that no man wanted her. Several had tried for her affections, but it never worked out. She found that she couldn't love any of them, no matter how badly she wanted to. Her heart remained in the Dreaming with the pale man and his star-eyes.

In Dream's realm, the clouds never really lifted. There were periods when the rain would stop and a relative calm would come over the Dreaming, but it never lasted very long. Dream brooded, never seeming to come out of the world of despair and loneliness that he'd constructed around himself.

He tried many different tactics to assuage his pain. One of the more unusual was the creation of a dream version of Esme. He made her for himself, and, for a brief period, he was happy again. Finally, he had to face the fact that it wasn't really Esme. The dream thing lacked her soul, her spark. It wasn't the same. He didn't have the heart to uncreate her. Instead, Dream changed her and made her part of the castle staff. The dark storm clouds swallowed the Dreaming once again.

Dream resigned himself to watch Esme from afar. He observed her dreams and her nightmares. So many times he wanted to interfere, but he never allowed himself. He knew that Esme wanted nothing more to do with him, and it hurt to watch her pain, which mirrored his own.

Esme became an old woman, sleeping alone in her small bed. Her work surrounded her and engulfed her. Her art had become her life. She tossed and turned in fitful dreams. On nights like this -- on all nights, in truth -- Esme wanted to return to him and his castle. She wanted to accept his gift. It hurt so much to be away from him.

At last, he came to her for the last time....

She felt the cold darkness and remembered it from years before. The face wasn't there, however. Esme reached out, trying to find it. Maybe it was hiding in the vacuum. She grasped and felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. The completeness of the void made her feel so...alone. Then, he stood before her.

"Hello, Esme," he said. Esme had never realized until that moment just how much she missed his voice.

Still, she was angry. He was deliberately going against her wishes. "I thought that I told you to leave me alone!" Esme narrowed her still-youthful eyes at him.

"I...I missed you." Dream reached out for her.

Esme moved just out of his range. "So? I missed you, too, but I never went seeking you out. I thought we had an agreement...." She turned her back to him.

"Please don't be angry with me." He extended an arm and ran his pale fingers through her long hair. It was now a mixture of silver and gold, still just as soft as he remembered.

"Don't do that," she responded harshly.

Dream's hand fell back. "I'm sorry."

She turned her head toward him slightly. "It's okay...."

"No, it isn't." He stood directly behind her but restrained himself from placing his hands on her shoulders, almost as if he were afraid of her.... "I need you. The Dreaming is miserable...."

"Oh, so that's my fault?" Esme's voice was softer now but still caustic enough to make Dream wince slightly.

"No."

She sighed and looked up at him. "Then, what's this about?" He brought out a small box and clutched it in his hand.

"You can still have it."

Esme's eyes widened but her face remained firm. "My answer hasn't changed."

Dream held it out to her. "Please take it. This is the last chance you will ever have."

"You mean...?"

Knowing what she was asking, he nodded sadly.

Esme's green eyes closed. "There were so many things I wanted to do. I was going to see Paris next year.... I was going to travel."

"You can." Dream still held that cursed little wooden container. "All you have to do is open it."

"How many times do I have to say no?"

"You want to die?"

Esme had the sudden urge to slap him, to knock some sense into Dream's head. She didn't. "Look at me. My skin is wrinkled. My bones are brittle. I'm old. It's my time....If I'm destined to die tonight, then I welcome it." She bit her lip and studied his face. He looked the same. He hadn't changed in the decades since they'd last talked. His face was still pale and handsome. Maybe she was wrong.

"I still love you." Dream hugged her. She gave no struggle.

"I know, and you'd do best to forget me." A small, ironic smile came to her lips. "I'm obviously not good for you."

At last giving up the fight, Dream tucked the box into his white robes. "I will be there when you go. To escort you."

"I'm...I'm sorry. I wish there was a way."

Dream leaned down and kissed her creased forehead. She pushed him away. "Don't." Esme lightly touched the still-warm spot on her forehead. "You don't want to kiss me."

He looked at her sadly. "Yes, I do."

"You always were stubborn." It didn't come out as an insult. Instead, it seemed as if she was calling him by an affectionate pet name. Esme took his hand. It was still just as cold as she remembered. "I love you...."

He closed his eyes, as if in pain. "It is time to end this dream. I'm afraid that you won't awaken."

"I know." She kissed him gently on the cheek. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Dream smiled for the first time since he'd appeared to her.

"As do I."

Then, it was over. Esme remained asleep for several more hours, flitting in and out of dreams. Her last dreams were different. Solid. She could see them, hear them, smell them... She knew it was a gift, and she knew who to thank for it.

At last, the moment came. Esme's heart simply stopped. Her breathing ceased. And she was dead.

"Time to go, Esme," came a voice, seemingly from far away. Esme opened her eyes to see a pale girl dressed in black, dark make-up around her eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

Esme stood up. "Sure, I do."

Death grinned slightly. It was a friendly smile. "Chose me over my brother, huh?"

She lowered her head. "Uh-huh..." As she looked down at her hands, she saw the wrinkles drop away. She became young again, in a strange sense. She ran her fingers over her cheek. It was smoother than it had been in decades. Esme looked back at her old body on the bed. The shell that she'd occupied all her life was still curled up in the sheets, growing cold. She had shed it, and now she was going to move on. It felt strange, not like she'd imagined it. She didn't feel sad. Or angry. Or regretful. She felt numb.

Death took her hand. "It's time."

"No," she said suddenly, a surge of urgency overtaking her, "not yet. He said that he'd come."

The ghost felt something take her other hand, and she looked up. Dream's strange eyes met hers.

"I am here." Esme grinned at his usual concise way of saying things.

"I see you." She took her hand from Death and threw her arms around Dream. "I guess this is really good-bye, huh?" Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his white shirt. Not saying a word, Dream lifted her face up with his hand and kissed her. She returned it eagerly.

Death looked away, embarrassed. Finally, she put her hands in their shoulders. Reluctantly, they broke away from each other, still keeping their hands clasped tightly. Death hated breaking them up like this, but it was what she had to do. "Little brother, I really have to take her now. I have others waiting."

Feeling Death take her arm, Esme released Dream's hands from hers and stepped beside his sister. "May I ask a question?" she said to no one in particular. "Do the dead dream?" asked Esme shakily.

Dream answered, "That is entirely up to the deceased in question."

"Oh?" There was hope in her voice.

Death sighed. "Dream..."

A suddenly regretful look came over Dream's unnaturally pale face. "I apologize. You must perform your duty." He looked over at the ghost girl, loneliness already beginning to drown the twin stars in his eyes. "Good-bye."

Death pulled her close. "Good-bye..." Esme's voice faded away, replaced by the gentle beating of mighty wings.

His sister looked at him almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, li'l brother. I have to go."

"Go." He turned away from her and stood by the bed, studying the empty body that had once been Esme. No. It had never really been her. All that she ever had been was gone. To the sunless lands. Not even Death remained anymore. He was alone.

And it hurt.

Mervyn lit a cigar. It was Cuban, the best kind, and they didn't get many of those in the Dreaming. He'd been saving it for a special occasion, and he figured that a break from work was as special an occasion as any. Especially with everything he'd been going through the past few decades. Nothing but rain, rain, rain, and Merv had been working non-stop. Re-route this new river. Hang the stars out to dry. Exhausting.

The pumpkin-headed handyman took a deep puff from his well-deserved treat, letting the smoke leak out through the carved holes in his head. He let out a grunt of satisfaction and stared out of the window of the Library of Dreams. The rain still fell in sheets, a perpetual gloom over the expansive view. He shook his orange head. "Hey, Loosh, when do ya think the Boss will finally quit with all this weather? I mean, Jeezus, it's like a friggin' swamp out there! Why, yesterday, I hadda help Abel finish the stilts on his place, and believe you me, it ain't easy raisin' a fifty-foot pole in the mud and gettin' it to stay up." Giving a shallow sigh, Merv let a few gray ashes from his cigar drift to the floor. "Whaddya think?"

Lucien quickly swept up the cinders and handed Merv an ash tray. "I think that perhaps you should find another way to dispose of those ashes." Looking over his spectacles, he gave Merv a quick disapproving look and went back to reshelving the new additions.

Merv smirked slightly and tapped a bit of cigar soot into his newly aquired tray. Noticing the librarian's turned back, he "accidentally" dropped it onto the flawlessly waxed and shined floor. "Whoops," he muttered just low enough for Lucien not to hear, even with ears like his. He decided to further pursue the conversation. "You know what this whole thing is about, dontcha?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Mervyn." The tall man joined Mervyn by the window. The smoke from the cigar was sour in his nostrils. "Honestly, Mervyn, must you do that in here?"

"Hey, it's a free universe." He accented his point with a whiff of smoke in Lucien's direction. Lucien deftly took a step away from him. Mervyn grinned slightly and continued. "I haven't seen the Boss like this in a long time."

Lucien sighed in agreement. "Hmm...yes. The last time things were this bad was shortly after Nad-" He stopped himself in mid-sentence, looking suddenly embarrassed. "No use in opening up old wounds, eh?"

There was a moment of silence between them, the interplay of wind and rain the only conversation that could be heard.

"Ya know, Loosh, I just knew the whole Esme thing wouldn't work out. She was a nice kid and all, but it seems like the Boss just ain't very good with dames, if you know what I mean." Sucking out the last musky tobacco smoke from his cigar, Merv turned away from the window and crushed the smoldering end into the ash tray. "Good cigar..."

Unmoving, Lucien continued to examine through the water-beaten panes of glass the bleak place the Dreaming had become. "He really did love her, Mervyn. And I'm certain that she loved him. It really is unfortunate...."

"Unfortunate? Heh. The way he's carrying on, you'd think the world was endin'."

"Perhaps, in a way, his has. Our Lord built a world for himself and young Esme. When she left him, it was utterly destroyed." Lucien looked back at Mervyn, who was preparing to take hold of his wheelbarrow once more. "However, he will re-build it...eventually."

"Yeah, and then some other chick will come along and break his heart, huh? Some things never change...." The pumpkin tightened his worn gloves. "Who needs love, anyway? Every single time the Boss finds a girl he likes, she leaves, and we get this: crappy weather and more work. Love's a buncha crock."

Lucien gave a low, knowing, and rather sad, chuckle. "'It is better to have loved and lost than to-'"

"Save it," Merv cut him off. "I don't wanna hear any more 'meaningful' quotes outta you. I hafta get back to work. Seeya, Loosh." He picked up his wheelbarrow and began to cart some books down to the archives. "Oh, and sorry about the floor," he called back.

The librarian glanced down at the gray ashes scattered by the Mervyn's abandoned perch. Annoyed, he decided to wait a few minutes before cleaning them up. At the moment, he was simply content to watch the drops crash violently against the library windows. Lucien was grateful for his library's high position in the castle. The water level had never gotten so high as to soak any of his books. It would have been a pity to lose even one volume. All of his books were treasures, and he was always greatly distressed when anything happened to them. Why, when his library had disappeared in the former Dream's absence, the shock had nearly killed him, but he'd hung on....

Lucien was jarred out of his thoughts by a sudden realization: the rain was slacking off. The constant clatter of the raindrops against the walls of the castle was lessening. Anxious to see, he hastily wiped off his glasses and positioned them back on his nose. Indeed, the storm clouds had begun to disperse, and something was peeking through. It had been years since Lucien had seen it. Could it be...sunshine?

* * * * * * * * * *

The Lord of Dreams, stripped of his formal robes, materialized on the still-wet grass. The air around him was still damp from the many years of rain that he had inflicted on his realm. He could feel it through his t-shirt. The ground underneath his bare feet felt like dew at the beginning of a new day.

The sun had come out of its hiding place and was driving the dank away. The Dreaming was almost back to its old self again, if such a concept could even be applied.

Dream walked slowly, silently, to a small structure at the edge of the meadow. The stables. The ones he had created for her. It was simple, having only one stall. He reached out and opened the entrance. A pair of silver-blue eyes examined him from inside.

Reaching out a hand, Dream greeted him. "Hello, Tranquil. I am here at...Esme's request. I made a promise to her, and I intend to honor it." He gave a small smile as Tranquil began to approach him. "I apologize for my neglect. It is at an end, I swear." The unicorn, understanding his words, came close. Careful not to alarm the creature, Dream gently touched the end of his horn. Tranquil simply lowered his head, as if in a bow.

Dream reigned and saddled the unicorn with ease. Usually, he wouldn't have done these things himself, but he was capable, and he felt no need to talk to any servants at the moment. This was a private moment between him and Tranquil. He mounted and pressed on Tranquil's sides gently.

Together, they left the stables behind, almost resembling a spectre. White and silver seeming to glow beneath the now brightly shining sun. Perfect. Flawless. And beautiful. Tranquil led into a full gallop, his ivory hooves not even bending a blade of grass as he bounded over the green field.

Leaning into the wind, Dream felt the thrill that he knew must have driven Esme on her night rides. It was exhilarating. He felt himself begin to enjoy the ride and focus on it. He felt himself direct the ride in the direction of the castle. And he didn't know why.

To the front doors. Yes. He needed to be there. And quickly. It was...as if he was to meet someone there. Someone he'd wanted to be with for a long while. All he had to do was get there. Somehow, he knew this was the only way. He rode.

And, for the first time in decades, he felt tranquility.