Fuck, where was he even supposed to start? Every single part felt too specific, too detailed, just impossible to explain, to replicate. His mind was just not apt for such a thing, his skill not anywhere near enough. Is this why they say that knowledge drives people crazy?
The thing was, he's pretty certain that he just had front row tickets for what had been the Big Bang or something. The "origin" better said. Oh, scientists would probably kill to have been in his spot, to witness the glimpse he was gifted. Or maybe they would just discard it all as a dream, ignoring the implications of higher beings controlling so much of life. Dumb bastards.
Hob had ended up throwing one of his hands over his face, covering himself from the view of the room, focusing on the sight that he had just left. It weighed him now, making it hard to take off, maybe all due to just the thought that he would have to attempt to put it into words, into sketches even. He had to note at least something, somehow.
His night had really escalated from zero to a hundred really quick. Who would have guessed that a maze would have trippy, mind breaking spots? Hob just had to learn to not go around meddling with forces that he didn't understand.
Well, not entirely stop, he was too selfish for that, life was meant to be experienced, to take any offer it gave. The thing was, he also wanted for his brain to end up as intact as possible from it. No use knowing anything if he felt fried from it.
Talking about fried, he really needed it to come online at some point today, for he needed to gain a method to track his steps. To figure something out, to go around and buy stuff that can end up being useful. Or maybe even going to find assistance.
Thanks to this is why he then stayed for some minutes having a small panic attack, making a mental schedule of how he should organize his day. Oh yes. So many productive things that he would absolutely get to.
Once the need to pull his hair out of his head lessened, he threw the covers off of himself. The warmth had already started to spread all over him, to an uncomfortable degree. A shower was in order, and on the plus side, they did say that it helped clear up thoughts, give ideas. Just what he needed.
The trial of sketching and writing could come later. As the schedule dictated, shower first, then breakfast, notes, maybe call a contact or two, buy things, and... grade stuff. Not his most favorite activity to do on a Saturday, but better to have it done earlier than at the last minute.
And considering how he had done nothing yesterday as he normally would, it fell on today. Woo! Exciting!
Either way, a sacrifice now would become a thank you tomorrow. Rubbing at his face, he slowly got up, not wishing to trigger a dizziness that would cause him to fall upon his bed. To end up captured in its blankets and pass out again.
Taking small, lazy steps, he went straight to his closet, pulling whatever he deemed fit for going out. Hob threw it behind him, hoping it would land on the comforter. Satisfied with this, he headed to the bathroom, to start his morning routine.
Debating as he did so about step number two, he decided that it wasn't going to happen, not wishing to cook for himself. Instead, he would go out to a nearby place, get a treat that would be something other than a simple coffee and maybe some toast. It would also be a perk to get some fresh air.
The change of environment may help push him into an actual start, especially if he could be surrounded by liveliness. For it to become a departure of the vastness of yesterday, a reminder that he now found himself here. Of what had been and the beauty it has become.
Even though the lack of stars visibly was a downgrade, a shame.
A yawn made itself known as he softly entered his bathroom, locking the door behind him with a small click. Even if he lived alone, he wouldn't ever leave it open again. He had suffered enough trauma from his roommate days to last a lifetime.
And, if anyone dared to jump him while he was here, he would hear the advance. No surprises. Only towards them if anything, considering he would be more than ok with taking out the dagger he kept hidden here to prick the intruder. One could never be too protected.
Hob threw his shirt in the clothing bin, pants and underwear following suit. Stealing a quick glance in the mirror, it told him that he was putting off shaving. A shadow started to form, becoming more noticeable. An issue for tomorrow, not really feeling like taking such a task at the moment. It suited him anyway, made him look rugged, in a good way.
With a smirk and wink at his reflection, he made way towards the shower, letting the spray heat up first before jumping in. He didn't need the cold to properly get him going today, he was fine with just some comfortable scolding heats. Truly the wonder of technology.
Beginning to him softly, he got his mind ready to wander off, for the next hour or so.
✧✧✧
Thankfully, the time hadn't really changed since the last time he checked his phone, a small relief that it was still an appropriate time to have breakfast. He wasn't sure if the coffee shop he was heading towards had specific menus depending on the hour. Not that he would be overly picky, he could eat about anything at any time. Maybe even ice cream if he felt daring.
The chill that either way seemed to penetrate through his jacket said otherwise.
All it had taken was one turn before he had finally reached his destination, that being, a new place that had recently opened not too far from his flat. Being at a walking distance of around ten minutes. One that he felt now, considering he hadn't had the foresight to put anything into his system. Eh, he would survive.
Looking through the windows, not many people were inside the place yet, which probably wasn't too surprising. A bell jingled, making his presence known as he came in, the sweet aroma hitting him as he did. It made his whole being warm up, just by that and the atmosphere in general.
The shop was bright, but not in an oppressive way, instead being cozy, a reminder of spring. The walls were recently painted, flowers scattered in the space, water joining them. Some actual plants could also be seen here and there. Some that he could even swear came from Mad Hettie's, her hand was easy to see in them.
He wondered what sort of deal they had to do to have her willingly give anything away.
For the rest, there was a reading nook, with books to choose from to accompany your stay. He could already see his students coming around and working on papers. Especially with these tables and chairs, looking soft and warm.
And even the music was pleasant, just nice instrumentals to add to the air. Overall, it made him feel like he could take his time and rest. Too good of a place to pass by.
Making a beeline towards the front, he became preoccupied with the menu on the top, meaning, he didn't notice a presence near him, around the corner. Instead, Hob became too busy analyzing the decisions he took today, of why he thought to come to a coffee shop for breakfast and not leave it for the evening. Past him hadn't thought any better.
It was fine though; they had all assortments of stuff. And hopefully strong coffee. As if hearing his thoughts, the woman behind the counter who was preparing the drinks made her way to him, ready to take his order with a sweet smile.
Asking if he was ready, he said he was, that there were many things that were of interest to him. Especially those that he wasn't too sure what they were, with cute names that seemed to match the atmosphere. Wishing to taste those new things, he pointed at them, her noting them down as he talked, nodding along.
Looking up at him, she asked for his name to put for the order. That given, she gestured for him to sit wherever he'd like. She would be back with his food and drink shortly.
Hob thanked her, doing as she said. He chose a nice spot near a window, with just the perfect view. Sitting down, he moved a chair closer to him, in which he placed his stuff on.
Before he could open it up and start splaying it on the table, some arms went around his head, too rough to be loving. Elbows went hard into his shoulder, as if making sure he paid attention to them. He flinched, but otherwise didn't take the offending touch away.
"Gadling! Perfect timing as always." The person that had crept up behind him announced, in its most disdained voice.
Now he proceeded to take the elbows off of him, joining in the fake annoyance, "And hello to you too, always a delight to hear your charming sarcasm. What set you off so early? Spell gone wrong?"
She just scoffed in reply, not deigning on correcting him, the same way she has done plenty of times in the past due to the same joke. He just loved seeing her quick passing wrath at being told that her rituals were all witch work. Not being deterred, she still took the seat next to him, uncaring for the bag already in the place, draping herself over it.
"Ha ha, would you like a red nose to match your impeccable sense of humor?"
"Is that praise I hear? Why thank you, always knew I was hilarious." He bowed, being as dramatic as possible.
"Your students would say otherwise, considering how bored to death they appear thanks to that tone of yours." She tried to replicate the tone, not quite matching it.
Hob pouted at that remark, "Just 'cause my students don't get enough sleep due to assignments, doesn't imply that I'm that boring to listen to."
They went back and forth, their pestering coming naturally, in a way that only happened with old friends. Born from an unexpected alliance in college some years back. Hard to forget a random girl that one day decided to just cut a lock from your hair without asking, for a ritual that she was interested in at the time.
She keeps denying to this day that she was responsible for his messed up haircut, or missing items. Always saying it was someone else, she wouldn't have ever dared to take without asking. Saying that she was just merely interested in acquiring a study partner and he seemed to fit the bill. Bullshit.
They had ended up sharing around two classes together. Then and there, they did actually become study buddies, helping each other out where the other lacked. Considering she spent most of the time sleeping instead of paying attention, that duty tended to fall upon himself most often.
Hob had even had to cover for her every so often when a random artifact caught her interest. Some causing her to even get out of the country for a while. At least those times were better than when he had to skip class to pick her up from a random one night stand ever so often.
He had grown affectionate with her way of being, life was never boring with a Constantine around.
And the stories she had, ranging from supposed demon encounters to fascinating, if not, a bit scary, occult related things. He did wonder sometimes how she even got into this sort of thing in the first place, seeming to have been present even as a youth. Must come in the family.
"So... what brings the too edgy Johanna Constantine to this lovely cafe? Never thought I'd see it; thought you would catch flame just by the mere sight of a flower."
In an odd turn of events, one that spoke volumes, she didn't answer right away. Not even smacking him when she couldn't come up with a clever comeback. Instead, she seemed to blush, eyes roaming around everywhere except his face. Interesting.
"I... uh, there's a first to everything right? Can't I just decide to spice things up and go to a nice place? You are the one that's always spouting nonsense about trying new things."
As if she would listen to him, "You consider rundown buildings a nice place. I don't buy it, spill."
"Spill my coffee on you is what I should."
Hob glanced down to her hands, which were empty, "Wow, such a threat."
They were so deep into their bickering that they didn't notice the barista heading their way, the food and drink in hand.
"Excuse me for interrupting, but here is your order Robert." She set the requested items down.
"No problem, thank you so much..." He squinted at the name tag. "Rachel."
She seemed to glow in a delighted way, happy to serve, before turning her attention towards Johanna, "Why hello. Would you like to order something as well? Or are you just happy to be of company."
"I'm good as is, thanks sweetheart." She winked. "Though, you would make much more pleasant company."
Rachel giggled, nodding in understanding, before returning behind the counter. Johanna kept staring at her until she was out of view, even then, not quite being able to take her eyes off immediately. Hob looked amused, taking a sip of his coffee, this was much more entertaining than reading the newspaper. Now he was aware of why she found herself here.
As if feeling the ribbing smile on his face, a grimace grew on her own, turning into a scowl before facing him, "What?"
"Nothing." He glanced down innocently, tasting one of the options he had chosen. "This is good, should've gotten something for yourself, not that it matters, you'll most likely be around here more often than not to get to try."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He raised his shoulders, feigning ignorance, "Take it as you will, at least now I know why I had excellent timing, disturbed your time ogling at the girl."
"I wasn't ogling at anyone!"
"You've always been obvious in your crushes Jo, not this shy often though, you must really like her." Hob fluttered his eyelashes, resting his head on his hands.
She groaned in disgust, "It's not like that. I was just around, checking out the new place."
Pointing behind him, he couldn't help but ask, "New place or new owner?"
"The place Gadling, nothing more." Johanna crossed her arms.
"So, I didn't ruin any date?"
"There was no date."
"Does little Jo sound, dare I say, disappointed?" He poked at her shoulder. "Maybe someone is more interested than what they're leading on."
Before Johanna could refute, a small plate with a slice of red velvet cake was set in front of her by Rachel herself, "On the house."
She clasped her hands in front of her, looking sheepishly. Hob hid his grin behind another mouthful of his own pastry, acting as if he was just not there at the moment. Jo looked a bit surprised, quickly recovering as she put on a suave smile and thanked her.
"You didn't have to love, I appreciate it." She took a bite. "Almost as sweet as yourself."
Eyes twinkled right back at her, returning the smile with a soft one of her own, "it was no problem, though, you might need to come back and test the others to see if what you said is true."
"Quite a proposal, consider it done."
With that, Rachel headed straight to the kitchen, willing for her blush to fall down while she caught up with orders. On this side of the room, silence had fallen upon them for just a few minutes. Hob went to open his mouth when...
"Not a word."
"I wasn't going to say anything." He took his tongue out.
"Sure you weren't," She flicked him. "still, don't even wanna hear you exhale."
He continued anyway, "Can't wait to see you become a permanent fixture to the aesthetic of this place."
For that alone, she kicked him hard under the table, promptly ending that line of thought, them returning to their food. Hob tried to sneak a bite from the cake but was thwarted by Johanna smacking his spoon away. He gave up like a good sport, not willing to try again.
With this new arrangement, Jo found it difficult to get comfortable, moving around her chair. Soon after, she too the offending bag that had been behind her, setting it on the empty side of the table. During the rough movement, his sketchbook came out.
Before being able to stop his friend, she snatched it at first glance, using her arms as a barrier to block him as she went through it. She whistled at the illustrations, moving quickly through the castle sketches and staying, embarrassingly long, on the hands. Hob covered his face with his own pair, hoping for his expression to not give anything away.
"Hmph, seems like I ain't the only one down bad, if this is anything to go by." Skipping through more pages, Johanna ended up landing on an empty one, taking a pencil from the bag to just start doodling. "Don't tell me you followed a random guy into a drawing class and now you are stuck participating."
"Who are you to judge? And for your information, no, I'm not going out anywhere with anyone. I just have taken classes before." Maybe he went a bit too on the defensive, not a good tactic.
She was now shading the doodle, "Sure sure, drawing now just a hobby then Hobsie?"
"...maybe."
"As a twit once said, don't buy it, but I guess we both ended up disturbing each other's plans then. I can see how this would be a nice place to wind down and draw." She pointed at him, then at the window.
"Yeah yeah, give me that." Hob took the book back, cringing at the crude images that his friend had left, worse than a teen he could swear. "Really?"
It did cause him to crack a small laugh though, not as mature as he likes to appear to be.
"What? Never insult someone's art, you don't know the story behind it."
He raised an eyebrow, "Would you prefer a compliment on your excellent strokes?"
"If you wouldn't mind, it would make me feel better." Leaning back onto the chair properly, she kept the pencil from him.
"And feed your ego? No thanks, I'm good."
Hob made sure that everything was as it should, before closing the book and laying it next to him, far from the hands of Jo. He also retrieved the pencil that she had taken to spinning around her fingers. She looked a bit insulted, but could do nothing about it, especially as the spoon took over the spot.
For a moment, he looked down towards the book, before glancing back at Johanna. It is true, they hadn't expected to meet as she said, but maybe, there was a silver lining to her presence. She could be useful.
"So, insert perfect segway here, I have a question for you."
She spared him by not asking about the quick change, probably wondering about the question first, "And I may have an answer, shoot."
With that tone, she totally will grill him with her own questions, if what he mentions is interesting enough for her to learn, and there was no escaping her. Unless... he could use Rachel in his favor, saying she called for her before sprinting away. For now though, he just hoped she would play along.
The thing was, he was curious about how his friend could relate to the subject of dreams. She was an occultist after all, it is possible that she could know some weird inner workings or at least seen specific cases. For all he knew, maybe some of her family could have anything documented and passed down to her.
"For no reason whatsoever, how have your dreams been?"
"I don't sleep, wrong person to ask that to." She shrugged, before putting on her most reassuring face. "I'm joking, same as it's always been."
"You say that, but it just makes me believe you're lying to me, but nevertheless, really? Nothing's different?" It also made him think that maybe he should have started with another thing.
"I mean, it's always different, different scenarios, memories, as it should be. Why do you ask? Something happening to you? Don't tell me you're hallucinating now."
"No! Nothing like that. I just have a passing fancy of sorts."
Jo pointed the spoon in his direction, "About dreams? You're a few decades too old for that whole scene. What is it? Students asking about it again?"
"I mean, yeah always, they're so curious for something that they cannot phantom you know? Isn't that the beauty of humanity? Always hunting for knowledge, hoping to find as much about a topic that has just been taken for granted once upon a time. It is that aspect itself that makes it so exciting to fall into it, searching for any clues hidden in time, left by others sharing that same passion."
"I'm going to have to stop you right there," She covered his mouth. "practically becoming a lecture in itself. Are you certain this is for their interest and not yours?"
"Never said that it was for them, but they would appreciate it."
She crossed her arms, taking the role of a provider of intel, "Hmm, I think I may know a thing or two related to dreams, but it will cost you."
"As your friend, shouldn't I get some stuff for free?"
"No, as my friend, you should support my business with money."
"Or, think about it." Hob raised his hands to add to what he was saying. "What if you tell me anything you know, and I don't go over there to the nice lady behind the counter and tell her all about year 9?"
"You wouldn't..." She looked into his eyes. "you would. Shit, fine, you win this round Gadling."
She sighed, leaning back even further on the chair, closing her eyes, rubbing them, letting herself fall deep in thought, "Ok, let me think about this... You're lucky that one of my ancestors also had a small period of fascination with the topic of dreams, and that I, in turn, had a small obsession with her work."
Johanna peeked an eye open, "Story for another time. My turn to play teacher then."
Making sure that she had his complete attention, she gestured for the sketchbook, wishing to use it to drive some of the points she would make across. Jo was well aware of how Hob was much more of a visual learner, and he always tended to rely on notes left either by him or others. He had just fallen lucky that she did know some things to talk about, her work did sometimes touch upon those topics, many paying unbelievable amounts to stop the misery of reliving memories, or just to look for answers.
Reluctantly, Hob did as asked, handing back the pencil and sketchbook, not before turning to another empty page to not disturb the rest. He truly hoped this wasn't a prank or something on her part, he truly wanted to know, no need to have to pass by the library which could just be filled with outdated information. He had to admit, Johanna did tend to know her stuff, had access to old tomes that many probably didn't know existed, much more trustworthy. Or so he thought.
"Where would be the best place to start... I guess with the word itself." She wrote dream on the paper, circling it a few times, before underlining it. "I'm no language arts professor, but if I recall correctly, the meaning of said word as we know it was first used or started to get used around the thirteenth century."
The number was written under the line, "It is said that that's probably due to the Norse folks that were just around at the time I guess, they called it draumr though. You can kinda see how one thing led to another."
Hob nodded along, following the pencil as it moved around the page, "Yeah, I think I get it, makes sense. I imagine later the visions came into play as well, working in tandem to become included in the definition."
"Ding ding ding; a point for Hobsie. They started relating that word to the visions, making it a word to encompass all that it is to dream." She doodled a little sleeping Hob, having dreams of whoever knows what. "So that's like the word basics, what was the thing that you actually wanted to know."
"Representations mostly, how it can be found in cultures." He shrugged.
"Myths? Yeah, I may know like one at least, the Greek one to be precise. It is the best known either way, a good way to get into it, easier to understand."
"Ha ha, I feel like that was a hidden insult. Fine then, hit me."
Careful what you wish for Hobsie, "With pleasure."
"Ouch." He rubbed his shoulder. "With the facts, not me."
"Should've been clearer." She got slightly hit back. "Ouch, fine, sorry sorry."
"So, what about the Greeks?" He tried to direct it back to what they were talking about.
"What a vague question. Well, according to the information known about them, it is more than obvious that it feels like they have always needed an explanation of why humanity sees from day to day. A need to have a god for anything and everything, you know?" She took a second, trying to figure out how she wanted to portray a small family tree. "I'm not certain how... acquainted you may be towards Greek gods, and genealogy overall, but this all starts with Hypnos."
"Other than Zeus taking over the father role to many deities and demigods, I'm pretty much blank on anyone else. I just know base myths and such, have never truly delved on as one should." He did ponder about Hypnos, trying to recall if he had ever heard the name.
"And here I thought you took Greek Mythology as a course in college."
He looked at her deadpanned, "You know fairly well I didn't, just some literature ones, which did touch on some stories, but more hero based."
"Shame, but whatever, so this Hypnos guy, he is like the personification of Sleep, but just that, the action. It is said in some recounts that he lived in a cave, and somehow managed to get it on with Pasithea, you are following?" She said as if he knew who Pasithea was.
"Hypnos and Pasithea got together, not too hard, continue."
"Good, so the god of sleep and goddess of relaxation had some children, that then were named Oneiroi."
So that sushi she was, "They all had the same name?"
"No no, as in, it was just the name of the trio of spirits." She wrote the three names down, of each child. "Each of them took up the role of aspects that create the dreams."
Hob pointed at one of the names, "No idea who these are, but this one, this one I recognize."
"That is the best known of the brothers, for he is the god of dreams in itself, considering as his name implies, he is able to take shape and form dreams, only one of his brothers with that skill. It is said that he was the leader of the three, for he could appear human. Another of the siblings were able to become objects and elements while the last one tended to like to scare, a proper nightmare."
"I just realized, I'm such an idiot." He slapped his face. "It's right there in the saying, the arms of Morpheus, the god of dreams, that should have been obvious."
"Happens to the best of us, glad that we agree that you're an idiot though." It was said in a matter of fact tone.
"Oh, shut up."
"You were the one that said it first, not me, I was just confirming. Either way, best to have gotten the specifics out of the way, sayings do tend to be just adaptations of phrases reiterated throughout the years."
He thought about the curious cat, "True."
A loud ping noise broke them from their talk, causing Johanna to have left a scratch where she had the pencil. Taking her phone out, she couldn't help but curse some rather colorful words under her breath as she noticed the notification. Without asking, she ripped the corner of the page, writing something before throwing it to him and practically leaping off the table.
"Sorry man, may have to cut this wonderful lecture early, I forgot I was supposed to meet with a client in like ten minutes. Hope you don't mind." She was almost out the door. "Hope this helped and do pass that along."
"Hey did you just... hey! Thank you!" He barely got a word in as she went running off, leaving him to pick the paper left.
It was a phone number; he shook his head in disbelief.
Deciding that he may be in need of another coffee, he walked to the counter, ordering another for himself. Not letting any disappointment appear in the girl's face, he added the number with his visit. Explicitly explaining it was given by his friend, not him, he was just the messenger.
And just like that, her happy demeanor returned, excitement in her footsteps as she went to prepare his drink, which he took right there from her before going back to sit down. He took a second to recap over what had been written, before turning to what has a new page to actually begin what he had come here in the first place to do. To increase his collection of notes and drawings based around his dreams.
He just needed to find a way to translate his fear, his wonderment, his confusion into the paper. Easier said than done, but he still had a few hours to try. Before he was to be kicked out or something.
And if eyes filled with stars joined the pages as well, as did a silhouette of a body, that was nobody's business but his.
✧✧✧
It had been around noon when Hob had finally made his way back home. No matter how hard he tried to procrastinate, he still managed to get back home early enough to start grading some of the small quizzes he had left to see how knowledgeable his students were in the topic of their class. Many dreaded the diagnostics, but, how else was he supposed to see where he should focus on, to go back to for some that had forgotten from other years.
That was better than the alternative, where he would just go off talking about every single detail possible. The last thing he bet that they wanted was elongated classes or even extra ones to cover the missing material. He was doing them a mercy.
He was just glad that he had the brilliant mind of making them quizzes, way easier to grade compared to long essays that he had experimented with before. Not that he was completely safe, considering he did put a small, at least paragraph sized question answer as the last thing to fill. To get a deeper idea of things that students thought or knew.
Considering how busy his desk in his office was, he had moved his grading station to the living room. He had debated on putting the tv on to add background noise, but decided against it, since absolutely he would end up paying more attention to whatever channel it landed on. He had made that mistake plenty of times, he had to learn from it at some point.
What he did end up doing was turning on his record player that he had gotten way back when. It was surprising how well it still worked, and he just loved how it sounded, the manual labor of choosing what he wanted to hear and setting the vinyl down. With that done, he had just discarded anything extra that was on his person before sitting down and getting to work.
Against his better judgment, he graded the easy part first, the multiple choice section. It was said that it was better to go in complete order, for one would become lazy when it came to the more difficult parts. But when had he ever followed orders?
Sometimes at least, but it was fine, soon enough he would be lost in the grading, go into the headspace where you can just work even with your eyes closed. Plus, this time it was more of a reading thing, though he did need to take notes, for later classes. Nothing to do but start.
It didn't seem that his students were that lost to begin with. That or they were amazing guessers. For the first section, many answered well, some even having highlighted sections of the question, most likely to help with the reading.
He would keep that in mind, an interesting way to make sure certain information was well received by all. In some other areas of interest, there were many scratches, last minute changes of answers. Most to a correct one, with little unfortunate mistakes.
Overall, it did seem that the basics were known, most of the mistakes coming from more detailed questions. That was to be expected though, they were meant to be failed.
The essays though, that's where their creativity truly shined through.
It was just rewording the same thought over and over for some. Using fancy language to make it seem that they knew something. Well, tough luck, he used to do the same in college, he could see right through everyone's ploys.
For the ones that did put a bit more work into it, he dropped their names to the side. Best to be acquainted with the students that may be coming to his office hours in the future. For they seemed like the type invested in the subject, ones that would actually wish for his help and clarification.
He did as such for around a few hours, getting through all the classes that he had had this week. With a sigh, he piled them all in their specific groups, before laying back on the couch. That wasn't so bad, once you set your mind to it, all he had to do was start. Just as how he should probably start making dinner plans for himself.
Once again, he went through his routine quite early, the slow buildup of excitement moving through him. It gave him a burst of energy, moving at a quick pace, eating faster than what is most likely advised. Unimportant though, not like some soup could cause him a stomachache.
For now.
He tried to slow himself down, focusing on cleaning the plate and what he had used. If Hob didn't unwind, he knew sleeping would be useless, mind too over the place to settle down properly. Perhaps he should invest in one of those noise machines to sleep, or just play some noises on his phone.
✧✧✧
Hob was lying on the floor, as if having been just awoken from a delightful nap. He didn't feel the tiredness that one tended to wake up with, nor the disorientation. He just felt as if he had always been here, fully awake, no time having passed by.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, both his face and hands noticed how soft the floor seemed to be, as if willing to replicate a mattress. He ruffled his hair as he tucked his legs under him, giving a quick look around. It wasn't necessary, but it helped ground him, for him to see that he was no longer in his own room, nor in the darkness of the beginning as before. If anything, he was back in the maze, right where he last was.
It seemed his little highness Dream had heard his complaints last time, offering him the dignity of not falling flat on the floor. Though he wasn't sure why there was an air of comfort around him, for the ground to leave him well and not sore in this dream. Compared to this moment, as he ran his hand over the floor, it seemed to have returned to its previous state.
He liked the thought that the freak hadn't liked to be caught showing care. No no, it didn't cushion him, how dare he think that? Or maybe he was just overthinking it.
Not one to be ungrateful, he threw his head towards the castle, "I feel like I should thank you for that, quite nice of you. Also, if I may add, nice to be back, greetings my dream."
He patted the floor in a manner to show hello as well, to what were his surroundings. It stood still for a moment, as if registering what he meant by it. In a matter of seconds, an unforeseen force went through the ground, raising some of the sand grains to hit the skin of his hand.
It took all his will power not to flinch at the feeling, instead moving his fingers to play along them. He wasn't sure if he imagined it, but it seemed much more purposeful than just a hello, as if overlooking him. Sensing his curiosity, they retreated, not wishing to humor him that much further.
They were satisfied for now, and he would take the touch over the complete quietness that was around him.
Stretching his back a bit, he turned around, noticing that he truly found himself where he had last been. That being, in front of the wall. His memories gave it no justice, it being just as incomprehensible as before.
If anything, it seemed even more convoluted today, finding new things that he could almost swear weren't there yesterday. It was as if, even having gone through the thing he had, it hadn't affected the image it held. Sure, it explained certain areas, or he thought it did.
Being frozen in time, just staring at the image, the place picked up on the behavior, not happy with the way he presented himself against the wall, the wind moved next to him, relaying a message, one that was felt softly, landing on top of his head. It wished to know if he was alright, not at all what he expected.
Having not offered an answer just yet, the pressure became more distinct, fingers taking down. They moved down, in a manner to lightly caress his face. He may look physically alright, but his mind was another thing, it wished to see for itself.
It felt oddly intimate. The care placed upon his being. He couldn't understand why such a drastic change was happening, until he felt the hands pull him away from the wall, keeping his eyes either lower or to the side.
Had the dream been afraid that the information was too heavy for his sleeping mind? Left him broken from knowledge that he was not meant to possess? It was a sweet thought, though misplaced, he felt like he had lost his sanity way back when, even before starting this whole thing.
He tried to lay his own hand on top of the wind one. It left, as if burned by the proximity of the other. Perhaps in its own denial of its blatant care, especially when it wished to apparent disinterest.
A smile spread across his face, barely keeping a laugh to join it. He didn't want to end up insulting the lord. Especially after such a show, he supposed that it was his duty to care for the dreamers under him.
To smooth it over, he preferred to apologize, looking towards the castle again, "You know, I hadn't meant to intrude on such a memory. Or I think it's a memory, hard to tell."
He slowly stood up, showing that he was completely fine, in a somewhat discreet way. No even shaking or hobbling. He did move a bit closer to the wall.
"So, I apologize for probably touching something that I wasn't meant to." He scratched his ear, not really knowing how to go about this. "It was... I have no words. Spectacular? Amazing? I don't know."
He moved his hands around, trying to explain, "It was so much encompassed in such a minuscule way, a story told in a few sentences. I just can't explain it, the beauty of it all. I feel like I accessed the world's secrets."
Now he truly laughed, delighted, knowing that the other, which was most likely listening, would understand what he said. Unless it wasn't under his control, then that would be a little awkward. But considering the domain, it should be his.
"And those eyes... those are yours, aren't they? The ones filled with fractions of the night sky? Brighter than Sirius? I think I have seen them sometimes, and I must admit, they are otherworldly."
Hob had meant gorgeous, incomparable to anything he has ever seen. But that would be coming on too strong. He hadn't even meant to bring them up in the first place.
Oh, how much of a chance was there that the being couldn't access his thoughts? The deep ones? Damn Johanna for putting such a train of thought in his mind in the first place.
The air got warmer around him, almost undetectable. Maybe it was the dream's way of blushing. Not a thing that he thought he would get to see in his lifetime, it did cause him to blush as well though.
"Anyway, sorry again."
As a last message, the air told him to not worry, slowly rewinding. If anything, the place was more than impressed by his withstanding, with his curiosity. With his sense to go on.
It was no issue for him, for it was he who had not been able to conceal what was theirs. Not Hob's fault to fall upon it, but just a warning for the lord to have a greater control on his world. Not like the human could catch any of this.
As this thought was pondered, the presence that had been occupying the area left. Returning to its more lonesome feel, though some of the natural noises had gone up. It was nice.
Moving the ball of yarn in his hands, he played with it, moving it slightly as he tried to think about what actually was needed to proceed. From either going back to brave what had been the other options or to just persist through the wall. Though he did not wish to touch this same one again.
The fear of getting lost in the darkness once more kept him away from it.
Wait... a ball of yarn?
His eyes almost popped out of his head, him almost getting whiplash at how fast he looked down, analyzing what his hands held. It took a shine as he got it closer to his eyes, glowing gold. Of fucking course, now it decided to pop up.
So, the trick was just thinking hard about it, or never mind it most likely was.
Maybe thinking about it did help make it appear, or most likely..., "Are you mocking me?"
Now this was just cruel. The ball just magically decided to appear now and not at the beginning. Maybe all the talk about myths and such had made it more prominent in his head, hence it being in his hands.
"Oh, you are such a meanie. Should start calling you a nightmare just for this tease."
Taking his tongue out towards the sky, he then let himself truly inspect his acquired tool. Turning it around, it seemed to be as one would expect, tightly formed yarn strings moving around itself to become an almost perfect sphere. He wasn't sure if it could even be possible, but it seemed to be made of actual gold.
Magic thrummed though it. A relic by itself, one that he wondered if it was owned by the sleeping mind of what would be Theseus. Which now he considers might as well exist if this Morpheus guy did.
"So, you do know about the Greek myth, well, that or you took the thought out of my head. I am truly hoping that you aren't playing with me, there better not be a minotaur like right around that wall."
He jested, but he was afraid of that possibility. Even more now than before as he held this. The itch to pull the string loose didn't help either, but it beckoned for his help.
It didn't take long to start to unravel it, hoping that this would go better than the string from his shirt. And better it did, going faster than what his hands could do. The yarn grew in distance, working itself down into a smaller size, just part of it left in Hob's grasp. He tried to hold on to it, but it flew out of his grip.
Almost like a viper, it moved throughout the air, striking against the wall, wrapping around it so tightly that it cracked in its wake. It seemed to take the role of roots, holding on to the rock and pulling it into the ground, as if the floor had become quicksand. He was left just staring, flabbergasted at the display, but also annoyed once more that it didn't stay with him.
He still applauded the show, "Ok I must admit, that was pretty cool. Don't even want to think about the strength behind that cord. You may have literally taken my marker to continue on but at least you solved my answer of either going back or moving forward."
Shaking his hands, as if chasing the feeling left by the golden yarn, he finally started walking. Not before looking around to truly see that it was all gone. The only thing left of the destruction was some golden dust belonging to his possession of a few minutes, some transferring into the leaves, decorating them.
It was a wonder to see how it tinted the plants, giving them this almost unnoticeable fade to gold on the points. It was only prominent when rays of sunshine hit them, as if making a deal with the light to shine brightly. It being too well placed.
The sand wasn't left behind either, some of the light also bounced against it, showing off that not even the sand was as dull as one thought.
It was an ache that caused him to walk up to the hedge, touching it delicately. He couldn't be blamed for his poor self-control, but he wished to feel the gold on the leaves. To be truthful, Hob half expected for his fingertips to end up colored by then, to have received some of the dust himself through it.
The touch had left him unaffected, to his disappointment. He had wanted it to become a reminder of this maze, for it to persist from the dreaming world back to his own home the next morning. To work as proof that he felt he needed, to show that this place was as real as he thought it was.
With a sigh, he fisted his hands, forcing himself to leave the scene behind, to continue on his trip until he would hit the next obstacle. Or another memory wall. Considering that the dream hadn't opposed in any visible way his last adventure, he supposed it wouldn't mind if he kept wandering on, searching.
And maybe the lord would learn this time around to put a showy sign saying that he couldn't be there in the first place. He would feel more inclined to follow such a thing if stated. If nothing appeared, he would just give the wall a proper look, not go directly to touching it causing him to enter it, he already knew what happened to it after he would return. And plus, the image may offer a warning to what was to come.
Now, as he let himself focus not only on certain details, he noticed how many other things had become affected by the shine.
"As if I needed more proof that you are pure magic, here you are decorating the whole place up just for me." He winked. "I quite like the change, a big fan of change me."
As if not wanting to be left behind, the whole scene had morphed into a theme of gold, for the sky reached hues that could only be achieved at certain times of day. It gave everything a cozy, warm feel. Much more welcoming than other days, reminding him, probably after all that mythology talk, about how many thought statues were white, but they were actually colored, just peeled away in time. It felt as if magic slowly filled the space, improving the scene until it reached what it should be, or a start of it.
For it to become an inspiration to all humans, to their waking minds. Knowing what he had learned, he wondered if the other truly came from the minds of the Greek, or if it was a shared figure between different cultures, that explaining the look of what would be the castle. The amalgamation of creations.
Having witnessed what may be the famous yarn ball, it made him wonder what else, what artifacts were in possession of the lord overlooking this place. One could say that dreams were able to recreate anything that may have existed or not, but what if it went deeper than that? Could any of the stories detail encounters that the Dream god had had with heroes of the stories? Perhaps their tools becoming offerings towards him.
The questions were eating at him, making him want to ask, but he didn't, not until he could be certain that the other was who he expected. He would just go ahead and bring it up later when possible. When he knew that he could actually get an answer out of it.
As he progressed the maze, he kept an ear out for possible sounds that could guide him as he went, but to no avail. He ended up just falling back to his trustworthy, going right approach. Every step tricked him into thinking he was advancing, but it seemed as if he had barely had. The paths were longer, shorter, ever changing.
Wanting to give his hands something to do, he kneeled down, gathering some sand in his hands, slowly taking grains off and letting them trickle down, "You know, I always wondered, is there a way to tell time in a dream? Because ever since I got here, the sky keeps changing, so I'm guessing you can't through that."
That seemed like a simple inquiry to fill the silence with. One that he could debate and would love to have an explanation if possible. Especially after yesterday, the topic of time had stayed in the back of his head, making him question many things.
"I mean, some people used to say dreams lasted barely an hour in total of the rest time. That the visions only appeared at specific hours after falling asleep, but it doesn't feel like that here. If you asked me, I feel like I have spent at least a fair share of hours each night in this world. It's amazing how in certain times this place moves almost at a snail pace and then others you just close your eyes, and you are somewhere else."
He threw the sand up, letting it rain around him, the light highlighting its nature once more as it did when it was on the ground. Like a rain of gold upon him, though he did try to not get it in his eyes as he looked around. He did not fancy becoming blind from it or cleaning it out as it happened once on a beach vacation day.
"Well, I shouldn't ask that, time probably just works differently here as it does in other places, like how it was in the wall memory thing. Just a random guy that's a concept toying around with living beings depending on what he thinks is best. Weird to think of time as a man, but fantasy has been doing it for years, as has mythology."
Looking towards the sky, he continued, "Weird that we think of higher beings as human looking, maybe it's just because we can't phantom other individuals, always relating it to what we know. I like to think that animals do it too, for their beings to also take the same form as them. My head is starting to hurt thanks to this, I don't think humans were meant to ask so many questions in such little time. And there I go thinking about time again."
He laughed, crossing his arms as he kept going.
Growing silent, he decided to transfer his thoughts to the safety of his mind. Looking down, Hob wondered that if he were to set up a sand timer, somehow managing to find an hourglass container, what would it show him? Would it be time as expected, as it is in his place, or would it follow the rules of the dreams? Would the time man dictate such a thing? Or would the role pass to the Dream Lord, considering he manages this realm?
The thing was, he just wanted to know if there was a way to know the deadline of each night. Would he not wake until he needed to? Or would it just happen if he wasted time?
Hob was rather afraid of that, of the idea that one could waste time and end things early. Normally, there tended to be a limit of how long things could take, the dream could also just get bored of his nosiness. It could find a replacement, one that it deemed better.
It caused a feeling deep within him to spread.
Through these thoughts, the dream hadn't stopped keeping an eye on him. Worry increasing with his soured mood. Doing the best it could, it recalled the amazement that the other showed by simple actions, seeing what distraction would work. Now, with each step he took, the tracks glowed golden, shining for a moment before dissipating.
It had the desired effect, Hob practically squealing as a child, before catching himself. He looked around, cringing at the noise he made. The thing was, it wasn't every day when your actions had such visual effects, like being a creature of magic.
If only he was a dancer, he would have moved the gold all around him. But considering that no alcohol was found in his system, he didn't embarrass himself that way. Though he did do some spins, chucking to himself.
The marking may not stay, but it did help take his mind off things for a while, entertaining him as he went. It is as they said, one must enjoy the present, for if one only looks into the possible future, they will have had no life. And these last days have been enough to sustain him for a long time.
Not completely of course, he was not one to ever be satisfied, for he was a hedonist at heart. Especially when it was offered so freely for him to take. And take and take he would, as much as he could get away with.
Or it could be suddenly taken away from him, as how it just happened. With no explanation, all the pleasantness was ripped out of this place, harshly, all the warmth gone. The weather seemed to grumble in the sky, not yet raining, but the beginnings of it creeping around the horizon.
It made worry blossom inside himself. He wished he knew how to properly read his friend, understand what changes meant what. The dream had taken care of him when he thought he needed it, the least he could do was offer it back.
Maintaining the quiet, he glanced around, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Had he accidentally stepped on something? Was he too forward with his play? With his talk?
All he could notice was an upcoming split path, not unlike the ones before it. Something told him that perhaps he was closer to the next checkpoint than he thought. And it may be a dreaded point.
Stopping so he could access which way he was meant to go, the rain finally started falling. It was a light graze, but it would soon turn into a heavy downpour. He could just taste it in the air, along with melancholy.
As a teacher, he had had many students confide in him, lookout for him to feel comfort in his words. No matter how many times he has helped others with dealing with their feelings, it never got easier. Each time he would forget how to even support them, make them feel at ease.
And that was with humans. What ways could one even get through to a being that was a dream? A creature in its own rights.
But maybe that was the issue, why treat it as such when it may be in need of a human touch? Lord or not it is still a living thing, a he. So, he would continue to act as he does, as if it was just another friend of his coming to him.
At least, his words never failed him, "I have always enjoyed the rain. No, never mind, not always, but I did learn to."
One had to when you lived in an area where rain was almost fixed to the day to day.
"It held many memories with it, somber ones, I guess not too surprising, many do find sadness in rain. But I don't think it's sadness specifically anymore, it is more of a comfort, company during those mournful thoughts."
He cupped his hand, letting water fall upon it, "I mean, everything has a purpose, and rain is wonderful, helps with the existence of life. It helps plants grow, offers a drink to those with thirst like animals. It makes you appreciate a quiet evening too, especially with a mug in hand to join it."
"Each drop falling is like a note of music, to dance in." He spun, smiling as some water fell upon his face. "It doesn't stop you from living, it continues it, makes you want to play in it, refresh yourself, jump around."
Flicking some of his wet hair back, his eyes practically light up. Time had made him enjoy the sensation of getting soaked under the rain. And now he could enjoy it without the repercussions of actually getting sick.
"What I'm trying to say is, this won't stop me from continuing. You may or may not have set this as an obstacle, but I will keep moving forward. If anything, I will just be a tad uncomfy with clothes sticking to my body."
With a thunder, and a strike of lighting, a bucket type splash hit him right over his head. As if it started heavily raining only on top of him, his own personal cloud. Leaving him, not as partially humid as he was, but drenched.
He stared at himself in disbelief, looking from side to side. His eyebrows furrowed, looking up into the castle. Not angry per say but...
"Really?" He shook himself as a dog would. "Here I am trying to console a dream and you repay me by throwing a wave to my face?"
The angry look on his face started to crack before he almost kneeled over laughing at the absurdity of it all. Slapstick comedy has always been good, maybe his misery made the Dream Lord happier than simple words. Almost like being with a child.
"Now I'm even more convinced it was to set me back." Hob teased. "Well tough luck, I saw straight through your ploy, can't stop me from continuing."
And so he did, turning right as he had been doing. He had truly meant that it wouldn't stop him, but if he did wake up with wet clothes, he would be complaining all about it tomorrow. Not really, considering it would at least be evidence of what was occurring here, but he would say something.
Unless it was caused by a leak or something like that, that would be worrisome. It has happened before in the New Inn, especially when the weather was as such in the evenings. The rain would also cause many to wander in, hoping to escape the downpour for a moment, having not had the foresight to bring an umbrella of their own. His establishment would always offer a warm space to be in, especially when joined with a hot drink.
He also had made the decision of always having towels nearby, for when they were needed by customers. Sometimes the smallest of nice deeds could brighten up their day. Their week even.
It wasn't like kindness was hard to give most of the time. And in a nice turn of events, he would get clients willing to come back on other moments. Maybe even gaining more welcomed individuals that had heard the tale told by them, knowing it was an area that would be glad to have them.
He did fancy the thought of his place working as a safe space. Either it being from the weather or any other occurrences. He has thrown a punch or two in his time owning the building.
Thinking about this, he got an idea, "You know, I actually own my own place, one where I work creating things as well. Kinda like you here, well not exactly, nothing as fancy as this, but it is a bar."
One of the many things he has implemented while working there was the making of cocktails. Delicious things that he didn't tend to indulge in often. But many did.
"We sell many things in it, coffee, drinks, food, cocktails. Do you know what a cocktail is? You probably do, but it's these colorful alcoholic drinks, monstrosities made out of many ingredients, quite good, I would recommend. If you ever come around, you can get one on the house, you are friends with the owner."
The fantasy played on his head, the arrival of a silhouetted figure having a drink. Hob tried to picture it hard, thinking that the dream would be able to understand what he was saying, "You can even decorate the glasses, either with slices of fruit, or my favorite, the tiny umbrellas."
They tended to have many colored ones, some of his employee enjoying the variety to mix and match from. No idea where they sold them though, he wasn't even certain how they even managed to have some. Must be a secret.
Something had joined his presence, calling for him to look ahead, for the cocktail that he had been imagining appeared. It was either mentally brought by himself, or it was the lord's way of showing that it knew what he was talking about. Offering it as a way to show it.
"Yes, exactly like those. I'm getting better at these imagining things coming to me. Or as much as you let me."
With purpose now, he hurried to where the drink was, wishing to see it with clarity. For as similar as he thought it to be, it was still formed inside the dream, seeming to be made of a galaxy itself. The colors found swirling within it did make a strong case for it.
What he didn't expect was for the size to change as he got closer. As if it was all just a trick of perspective from where he viewed it. Giddiness donned his step as before, almost tripping once or twice from the puddles near him.
It was enormous, but not overly so, just enough that it was taller than him by a head or two. A drink, that by the size of it, could perfectly fit on the hands that had filled pages of his sketchbook. An offering that he would have gifted the dream if asked.
He was careful around it, not wishing to have it fall towards the ground by a wrong push. Hob did study it though, noticing what it contained through the slightly darkened glass. What held his interest the most was the not so colorful decoration on the top.
Stretching his arms, he took the umbrella by what he could reach, slowly moving it out until it was fully in his grasp.
It was the perfect size to be used by someone like him, to cover himself from the rain. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be made of paper, a stinger material being used instead. Opening it promptly, he tried to block as much of the rain as he could.
Sadly, it seemed like no beverage was left in the handle of it. No remaining to taste what it held within. Though he doubts that his taste would work here as it would awake.
"I feel like I should thank you, so I will Dream Lord, this will do." Twirling the umbrella along, he kept walking, not bothering to look back, knowing that the glass would disappear after doing what it had to.
The title made his words sound insincere in his opinion, impersonal. He truly needed confirmation on this guy being Morpheus so he could call him that, or not, he wasn't sure if he deserved to address him as such. For now, the title would have to suffice, though he didn't want to keep saying it completely. Well, in essence, the other was a dream in all senses of the word, maybe he should just call him as such.
For only Dream would have created an umbrella that was as magical as this. With every raindrop, a rhythm was born, making pleasant music in his ears. Every time one would touch the fabric on top of him, spots would appear, darkness fading to color. A wonderful show that could only be perceived by himself when looking up.
Even in misery, color does tend to shine through when you know where to look.
Hob wasn't sure what it was about being surrounded in puddles, but it made the impulse to splash around stronger. To just kick it up and see it move around him, feeling it on his hand, as he would take it out to greet it. He liked to imagine how the swatches of color would have looked on his skin, coloring it with the story it was meant to tell.
It felt like it would tell him fragments of his life, the highlights. Words told through pictures in his body. Some of the residue tainting the floor with his presence, a mark that he would leave.
In certain areas, such as dead ends, the markings became more visible, for he stayed longer than necessary. Every time he hit one, he was left with false hopes, short lived excitement of thinking he had found his way into another secret. It didn't put him in a sour mood though, for this was part of the game, wrong turns until you could hit a right one.
Meaning, not always going to the right was the correct idea. Nor to the left, either really, that had failed him too. When those sorts of scenarios happened, he would just magically notice a path that he hadn't previously seen.
Trying to find another guide to help him around, he decided to just count the turns in his head, but it was a difficult thing to maintain. It would just become lost between all the thoughts that would run all around his mind. To ground his focus every so often, he would switch to counting the thunders instead, sometimes sounding as if it came from all around him, much closer than far.
The lighting also tended to play tricks on his mind, becoming color changing. Throwing bursts of light that would make shadows form, making him see things that weren't there. A shadow theater formed from objects he couldn't see.
At least it didn't seem to hit inside the maze, at least, from what he could kind of gather. The last thing he needed was for one to hit him midway, maybe causing a rupture on the ground. Forcing him to have to stop, for he couldn't walk past it. Or it could even decide to set a hedge on fire.
He could bet that the fire would ignore the rain, not putting it out even if it tried. He could already see it, a hole formed from the lack of clouds in that specific area. Purposely wishing to distract him, having to do the useless labor of putting them out himself, maybe using the back side of the umbrella to catch water.
Speaking of clouds, Hob tried to look up, without getting wet too much, for the place seemed to darken with each step. It was similar to when a cloud would be passing over wherever the sun was at the moment. Though he couldn't say that was the case, for he didn't even know if a sun existed here in the first place, maybe the dream just had environmental light.
Some raindrops did manage to get into his eyes, blurring his view, but not hurting him in the process. Using his sleeve to wipe them off, he blinked a few times before returning his sight to the front. Which was now covered in fog.
That was a cheap shot, not fair. Squinting his eyes, he had his confirmation that of course it was not a normal type, blocking more than it should. The maze was practically a white wall.
It made each step he took indecisive, quickly losing his sense of direction. No light was seen, barely the green even, all that was noticeable was the ground floor. With sight lost, he tried to call upon his other senses, hoping for a clue of where to go.
Touch wouldn't help either if he were to guess, other than if he were to find the wall and guide himself with it. With hearing, again nothing. He wouldn't even dare to taste either, not knowing what the raindrops may tell, may cause.
He never thought he would stop to smell what a dream may smell like. It smelled like nothing at the moment, just a bare base of wetness and sand, with some plants here and there. Quite pleasant actually how they all came together.
With nothing to do, he just closed his eyes, not like it would be of any help to keep them open and continued on. Maybe his instincts would have much better luck. He would just let himself be guided by what he felt was right.
And maybe touch did come into play at the end, for the temperatures seemed to vary to the smallest degrees. It was like a much more intense game of hot and cold, though, instead of the clues being spoken, he just actually felt the difference. The promise of heat did interest him, not that he minded the cold creeping through his wet clothes, but warmth was better.
Hob didn't hold out for expectations of becoming dry by it, knowing a bucket could be around the corner at any moment. But either way, the change was better than nothing at all. He was an optimist at heart.
Walking in this ghastly state was weird, for as much confidence he tried to possess with each step, fear of slamming his face down would accompany it. Though he doubted it would leave him in a worser state, he didn't even want to imagine how the fog had affected his hair. If only he would have brought a ponytail or something, or maybe gone back to short hair just as he had it a few years back. Not overly a fan of the look, but it was practical in certain situations.
Now of all times, he wished he could get his sword, the one from the dreams he used to treasure as a child, to have an epic moment where he would slice his hair off. Or better yet, he could use it to cut through the heavy fog. It would be a useful tool, for it was getting heavier as he transversed, starting to restrain him. Or perhaps that wasn't the correct word for it, more as trying to guide him to opposite directions than what he bet were the right ones.
Depending on the turn he took, the air would become stronger against him, rain hitting as if they were bullets. For each step frontward, he felt an equal one back. Nothing to it other than pushing on.
Grasping the umbrella with all his strength, he moved it in front of him, trying to use it as a protective barrier. For the footsteps, he passed his whole weight into them, using the impulse to move, leaving what he felt had to be craters. With just a few seconds, the space had just suddenly become unbearable, like wanting to cross through a wall.
It could have been hours, minutes, mini seconds, but it felt like eternity. His fear returned, this time for the integrity of his shield. Hob just wasn't certain for how much longer it could go on...
Then nothing.
He almost stumbled from the force that he had been placing against the environment, Hob barely managing to catch himself, flailing his arms around. The umbrella became a sort of walking stick, him using it to regain the balance lost. At this motion, his eyes did fall open, out of surprise. He tried to focus on the floor, willing the darkness that had claimed his sight to leave him, also using the instant to gain back his breath.
The drops had returned to normal, no longer being that harsh storm. He used each that fell on him as an anchor, bringing him back to the dream. Reminding him that he should most likely stand straight and cover himself once more properly.
Unlike before, the rain didn't seem to color the canvas in which it found itself, if not, it brought a darkness that not even the fog could have made. It left the world view in greys, not even the hedges being bright enough to add a splash of color to the mix.
It all just seemed to compliment the dead-end which he found himself once more. A fellow wall which pictured a story, one that he was hesitant to follow, for there may be a reason that he was being herded aside. Either way, he has still managed to be brought here by chance, so that had to tell him something.
Perhaps being the beginning to the end of what would be this particular dream, a sign to show how close he was to waking. At least, he would try to prolong it a little more, studying the image before he was forced to touch it, for the sake of his own curiosity. Although he did lament the idea that it would become destroyed, that knowledge brought him pain, he wondered if he could find a way to bargain its safety.
Tilting the umbrella a tad back, he was finally able to take it all in. Just as its predecessor, it was carved in stone, once more done to perfection. With detail that could only appear in a dream, done by hands meant to do nothing else other than to tell stories without words.
It was simpler, not as mind breaking as it could have been. When it came to the carvings, it wasn't that hard to decipher what it told, especially when you had the correct information as a guide. And he was pretty sure he did, starting to connect the dots.
The first thing that caught his attention was the portrayal of a being in the center. One that he knew he had felt the presence of. The same aura coming from this visual, if muted.
The second thing that he noticed was how the water fell over the mound, painting tracks over the face, which was partially obscured, him knowing it was there, but not being able to tell its characteristics.
Nothing drowned this place more than the nostalgia, the wistfulness. It was felt in every corner, dominating over anything else. Just by being in its mere presence, you began to share the pain, the remembrance, for it also held a bit of love, happiness, hidden under it all.
Back to said figure, it was what one would imagine an idol to be. It was like a sculpture, found only in the most esteemed of temples meant to worship a god. Where loyal supplicants would become blessed on what they needed, receiving what their beliefs would say.
Unlike other images, this one wasn't surrounded by offerings, if not, mementos. Scenes that he could only guess related to what the character was meant to be, to represent. What humanity had thrusted upon him.
He couldn't make sense of much, some things he doubted even came from his universe, while others, he could gather. Temples, prayers, sleeping people dreaming, stories told on an evening. It was all connected between themselves.
Hob couldn't stop himself, "You miss it, don't you?"
If he were to be smart at the moment, he would even dare to say that this portrait belonged to the Dream Lord himself. It isn't surprising for rulers to keep their likeness deep within their castle, outdoors as well sometimes. Though, that didn't answer the reason why it was here, unattended. Feeling abandoned, doomed to be eroded by tears of the sky.
Just because time may pass, it does not mean that one should throw away the memories that belonged to other periods. Good or bad, they are part of the story you leave behind, your legacy, which you go creating. No matter how simple, a single person could stumble upon it and admire it, receive inspiration from it.
With a last breath, he did a quick scan to all he could, committing it to memory. Barely opening his hand, the umbrella fell on the floor, being left behind. Time for admiration was over, it was time to accept what awaited him next.
Moving to where he could practically almost be face to face with the stone, he hovered his hand over the scene, closing his eyes.
The passing out didn't strike him as hard this time around, though the feeling of waking inside a dream remained. Thankfully, unlike his last visit, the world wasn't gone, it was bursting with life. It didn't belong to his current lifetime, that much he was certain of from what he could observe behind a tree.
Many kids dream with the idea of traveling to the past or future, imagining all the spectacular things they could witness. That is kind of what he felt, but now, he knew that he was as close as he could get to such a thing as possible. For he found himself in the era when the Greeks had done their thing, set so many parameters to base life on.
He was scared of disrupting the life as it was, knowing that his appearance may be strange to others, but none seemed to take notice of him. With a few test trials, he decided that he was practically free to do as he wished. So, he did the best thing he could do, walk and observe, touching anything that caught his interest, knowing that controlling himself was a useless endeavor.
Families and friends would pass near him, talking about their day to day in a matter that he understood only in the context of a dream. They each carried their belongings, moving side to side, avoiding others. Similar as he did as he followed them.
Bouncing from family to family, he barely noticed as he got to a temple, near the outskirts of a city, near the countryside. A sanctuary overlooking the people, bright in color, brough by the poppies that grew all around.
Many visitors stopped in front of them, admiring the tone of red, before heading to the altar that was found near them. People became separated here, with some attending to the garden, others to the temple, and the last praying for what they thought a god of dreams could give them.
Hob felt empty handed, for it was only polite to offer something in return to such a being. But what was one meant to give someone who had the skill to create anything they wished? At the moment, he just didn't know, a thing he would remedy once he could.
Images of the deity surrounded the area, many depictions of what was thought he looked like. None of them had the same aura of truth as the sculpted wall had, it being one of a kind, the true reflection of the being. Entering inside the sanctuary, he was faced with another variation, the closest, but still different enough.
The depiction of the figure was of a man, overlooking a sleeping mind. Wings sprouted from the back, as if awaiting to fly off whenever it was time to. Not only that, but also one of his ears was winged.
Solitude wasn't prominent in such a place, for all dreamers possible asked for a future to look forward to. Every spot here was tinted with the presence of the lord, same as it was in the city. He was here in such a way that it hasn't been in many years.
Centuries if this said anything about it, only a fraction of the adoration had remained when he was a child still. The feeling of someone overlooking still being there, him remembering only because he found himself in this dream state. Before it was all snuffed out.
Voices grew distant, him focusing only on what was now in front of him. The decorated image that he stared into, eyes tricking him into believing it morphing into what it should be. Truthfully, it was changing, but in another sense.
Almost as if being in a theater, the picture opened as curtains, showing what he could only describe as a theater, ready to host a show. Many scenes flashed, showing information of process, of evolution. The history involving this Dream.
As many others, the worshiping and religion fell, all thanks to the hands of other emperors, beliefs, even cultures. The thing was, he was still there, what was his bewilderment of humans, his care, his love. Ever present, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
It was never about the adoration; the stop never affected the being as such. So, something must have happened. He couldn't have just decided to stand up and leave.
Or he could, and Hob fears that he may know why.
It was hidden under this whole scene, a hope that he could tell started to grow tired, more restrained as the years passed. He saw it all flash, too fast to see every detail. The thing that did prevail though, were stories, ones that were never meant to die, that kept the being going.
Nothing united people more than the creation and retelling of stories. Communication was formed solely on this for so long, it was a necessity, a way to pass time. A way to teach future generations of the past.
Each era had his delicate hands guiding many into what they were today. Inspiration fell upon many, especially children, for they were the most connected to him. For they were known to not asking questions about why, if not, why not.
If only the showing could have remained somewhat anonymous, for he was fairly certain he even stumbled upon a moment of his Dream with a certain Shakespeare. No wonder, if this being of stories had helped him, that he would gain his success. Oh, how he hoped it didn't mean he would have to go over each play, sonnet, whatever this man had just come up with in his years.
Overrated really, he should find some analysis on them, maybe more entertaining than the actual stories. Dream should have really helped others, more deserving than that playwright. He probably did, but he didn't get the chance to see it.
The only explanation for that specific man appearing must have been for a punishment. One given for going through these intimate moments, it was fine, a small price to pay. Hob would take it.
The scene soon started to darken, a likely way of saying that he was reaching the end. He was hit with so many emotions, some which he just couldn't make out. Some that he was even sure it was not meant for humans to feel, to understand. Though, he would like to try.