Title: Lucid Dreamer
Author/E-mail: galaxykat@hotmail.com or glamourcat@lycos.com
Date: 10/6/02 10:04pm
Part: 1/1
Warnings: Completely rated G
Disclaimer: The Sandman and the Dreaming belong to Neil Gaimen and
DC/Vertigo Comics.
Summary:  A dreamer asks questions of a personal nature to the Lord
Shaper.
Distribution: In the Corners of My Mind@ http://www.galaxykat.150m.com/,
fanfiction.net author search for glamourcat and if anyone else wants to
house it, just ask.
Notes:  This was originally intended to feature Dream and my own
original character McCaviety, but I decided to drop McCaviety's name
from it to make it a generic dreamer – so anyone could place themselves
in the story.  I never specify which Dream is in the story, Daniel or
Morpheus, so pick your favorite to imagine in the role.  Special thanks
to FoxFire for the beta read.  Feedback and comments always welcome.

        "May I ask you a question of a personal nature?"  She asked before
executing three perfect back flips, misjudging the length of the balance
beam she was on, and tumbling rather unceremoniously off the end.
        "Only if I may remind you of that most graceful of landings at
inopportune times."  He answered, the barest touch of a smile reaching
the left corner of his pale lips.
        "Fair enough," she agreed amicably as she swung herself back up onto
the balance beam and did a series of pirouettes.  "My question in this:
You control the creation of everything in this kingdom.  You are Dream,
the Lord Shaper.  But how do you know what dreams and nightmares to give
to mortals during their stay in The Dreaming?  People change – sometimes
in barest moment it takes to breathe in.  How do you keep your dreams
relevant?  How do you change one nightmare into a new dread?  When
someone has a new love how do you change the face in the dream?  It was
my understanding that you only have full access to a mortal's mind when
they're wholly in the Dreaming.  There's an awful lot of people in the
universe to keep track of.  How do you do it all?"
        His cheek twitched with the repressed smile and he coughed, once, to
cover he laughter he felt brewing deep in his chest.
        "That is several questions of a personal nature."  Dream answered.
        She stood still on the balance beam, hands on her hips. She was
silent
for four heartbeats and then shrugged.
        "I could fall off the balance beam a few more times."
        Dream's shoulders shook, his hand covering his mouth briefly before
he
gave up, threw his head back and laughed.  His laughter was hearty,
rich, and honest.
        The reaction was so sudden and unusual for him that she was
startled,
and fell backwards off the beam.  She lay on her back against the hard,
cold dirt with one foot still resting by the heal on the balance beam.
        Dream laughed harder.
        "That's two tumbles!"  She declared from where she lay.  "At least
answer two questions."
        The Lord of the Realm of Dreaming wiped an invisible tear away from
one
of his star-filled endless eyes.
        "All of you mortals were given the right of free choice.  I choose
to
allow that to carry over here.  I craft the foundations, you merely
refine the details.  The Dreaming is malleable – the degree to which it
can be molded differs only by who does the sculpting.  I hold final
decision over everyone in what to make or unmake."
        "Then," she said, still lying on the ground, but now with both feet
crossed and resting on the beam, with her hands tucked behind her head
as a pillow.  "...it could be said, that in a way, the Dreamer is the
creator of the Dream?"
        He nodded once; laughter spent, and offered her a hand up.
        She took the proffered hand, dusting herself off once on her feet
again.  Boosting herself back onto the beam she made an observation.
        "You know, when I was on the gymnastics team back in college I was
awful at this event.  I could never keep track of where the beam was
anytime I had to do successive rotations.  The uneven bars were always
my best and favorite area."
        "Then why do you not dream of the uneven bars?"  He asked.
        "Because I do not need to dream about that which I have already
mastered but rather, what I have not yet conquered."
        "I rarely find dreamers as lucid as you."  He told her.  "I find
this
conversation refreshing."
        "Then may I prevail upon your good humor and ask one more question
of a
personal nature?"  She asked arms out and balanced on one foot.
        He inclined his head.
        "If the dreamer is the creator," she began, "then who Dreamed the
Dream?"
        "Lucid dreamer or not, there are some questions I will not answer
and
some boundaries you may not cross."  The Lord Shaper turned his head to
one side and he gestured with a single pale hand.
        The balance beam vanished.
        She tumbled to the ground, landing in an undignified heap.
        "That should not amuse me as much as it does."  Dream admitted.
        "I'm glad somebody's amused.  She said brightly, untangling her long
limbs and slowly standing up, one hand on her back.
        "Does this mean I have to go back?"  She asked, suddenly afraid of
being sent back to the waking world.
        Dream stared at her for an uncomfortably long time.
        "I fail to understand what's so horrible about your life that you
would
rather spend the bulk of your time here?"  He said finally.  "I have
seen others with far worse tales to tell than you escape to the Dreaming
and still be glad to return to wakefulness – if only for the
confirmation of life that act brings."
        "You called me lucid."  She answered soberly.  "In the waking world
I
have no control over what I can see clearly or to what degree I do.  In
the waking world it seems as if I am either always blind or always too
clear.  There is no happy medium."
        He laid a hand on her shoulder.  "Your true vision, so apparent
here,
is blurred on your world because of that same free will that lets you
choose between a balance beam and the uneven bars.  Your free will makes
its choices from moment to moment and is subject to all the choices made
by the free will of everyone around you.  Lucidity is hard to maintain
when so many variables are involved.  Here, in the Dreaming – with rare
exception – all dreamers are separated.  And, with that removal of the
other varying choices and your own control, however limited, of your
dreams..."
        "You have a perfect lucid dreamer."  She finished, understanding
what
had plagued her all these months.
        Clarity is something small and fragile, like a canary.  It flits
around
just as quickly and is fickle about the shoulders it rests on.
        "Thank-you."  She said throwing her arms around Dream in a hug so
fierce it surprised them both.  She held onto him like a daughter
convinced that if her father went away she would never see him again.
        After a while he returned her embrace, with a warm smile on his face
for this daughter of the Dreaming.
        Finally she pulled back a bit, and looked up into the depths of his
face.
        "You're blurry."  She said.
        "You're waking."  He answered as she faded from his arms.
        She vanished entirely as her spirit was called back to her body by
the
incessant blare of her alarm clock.
        Dream turned to survey his kingdom.  There were a few other dreamers
that required his attention.  He would see them all in time.  He cast
one last glance back to this small corner of the Dreaming, belonging –
in its way, to her.
        He waved a hand and recreated the balance beam.  She would need it
the
next time she slept.  He began to walk away, stopping at the edge of her
dream.
        He turned, with a smile and an afterthought, and created thick,
deeply
cushioned mats around every side of the beam.
        With a satisfied smile, Dream, the Lord Shaper, left to go about his
business.