◆︎ Assorodus ◆︎⌛︎◆︎ Morpheus ◆︎ The Sandman ◆︎

IX.

He always seemed to be the happiest when he went to visit Hob Gadling. On that day in every century, nightmares eased and the air was light with daydreams and fantasies in the waking world, because he walked amongst them, the people he served. He descended to humanity's level, all because of one exceptional man, who boldly declared his wish not to die. Exactly two hundred years ago.

Since then I visited him only once, in complete secret as I noticed his prose flying back to me, still alive, yet muddled. It needed some adjustments. Then Death was kind enough to inform me about the bet she made with Morpheus and asked me to patch up my writing if it was not too much trouble. Hesitantly I agreed to do it, unsure whether I'm doing right by my job or not, up until I saw how happy it made Morpheus. Even if the Dream King would have never admitted this out loud. In that tavern, his eyes shone like when he was young and bold, his soul unscathed. Able to openly show love.

He wanted me to come to their third meeting. Why? He did not clarify. Must have been the same reason he was so adamant about showing me the Dreaming first eons ago. To gain a form of acknowledgement I still couldn't offer. Still, I didn't have it in my heart to refuse, so I found myself on the mortal plane in the year 1589.

"I've never seen you with this hairstyle before." We walked towards the White Horse, soft mud sloshing around our boots. He just shrugged, pursing his lips.

"I quite like it, it suits you." I just about caught the slight red tint spreading across his cheeks as he turned his head away, expression remaining cold. He would have said it was only the icy wind cutting into his skin and nothing more. And of course, that would have been a lie.

"Have you met him before?" He changed the subject.

"Not properly," I said. "I went to him in his dreams a long time ago just to reattach his prose, but I did that while he was asleep."

He opened the creaking door for me, one that had seen better days, but did a decent job keeping the warmth in still and we stepped into the alcohol-induced haze accompanied by the heavy whiff of roasts and pastries. Dream without hesitation headed towards the back, lingering for a moment at a conversation about how dreams relate to the arts when a strong voice called towards us.

"My friend!"

That's when I could take him in the first time. Hob Gadling was a vigorous man with a broad grin that beamed across the room. Based on his clothes I supposed he gained a generous amount of wealth in the past century, his table overflowing with all kinds of meats confirming my idea. Morpheus only hummed to himself quietly, dark clothes draining out the light around him.

"And who this would be?" Hob asked as we joined him at the table. "A partner of yours?"

Keeping his mouth shut, Dream eyed me intently. He let me decide how I present myself.

"A close friend," I answered, nodding my chin in greeting. "Nice to meet you Hob Gadling."

"Hob? Faith, that takes me back some few years." The man stood up to perform an elaborate bow. It did not succeed to impress Dream. "It's Sir Robert Gadlen now."

"You had good fortune I take it?" I smiled politely at his semantics, eyeing the piled plates. "It's quite the feast you prepared for us here."

"The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bondsman." Hob's voice turned dreamy. "Venison pasty? No? They are good."

I took one of them, the layered dough flaking between my fingers. I couldn't remember when was the last time I tasted human food. The juicy meat exploded in my mouth and I had to agree with Hob. They were good.