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Friday, November 27, 2015

Sandman: Love Is A Dream - Prologue

This is the multi-parter (a novella, if you will) I created featuring Sandman, the King of Dreams, a comic book character created by Neil Gaiman whose stories were published by the Vertigo imprint under DC Comics.

Dream, aka Morpheus (and Oneiros, the Shaper, the Shaper of Form, Lord of the Dreaming, the Dream King, Dream-Sneak, the Cat of Dreams, Murphy, Kai'ckul and Lord L'Zoril,) rules over the world of dreams. He is one of the seven Endless: Dream, Destiny, Death, Desire, Delirium (formerly Delight, but is now two in one), and Destruction.

After being captured and held prisoner for 70 years, Dream is now back in business, rebuilding his kingdom... but there is still much he doesn't know about the power vacuum that occurred in his absence. He has been around for billions of years, but still does not know all that much about humans, as he has, in the past merely acted as King... a king unaware of what his subjects and realm requires outside of the basics.

I wrote this chapter in 1991 sitting in the teacher's lounge at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School), and then never wrote another story (and concluding chapters) on the character for another year.

I will say that Sandman was a very inspirational comic book... I had only read about six issues back in Toronto before I left for Japan... but they were very, very good issues. I recall purchasing eight copies of the first issue - all the store had, because I felt it was going to be the best comic book series ever. It was.

Introduction song is by the Everly Brothers, entitled All I Have To Do Is Dream. I liked to weave music into my stories... in fact you could listen to each song as you read it to help get the juices flowing.

As for my tale... it's long, but I think it's very good, too. Pleasant dreams...

by andrew joseph

"...Dream, dream, dream, dream.
Whenever I want you... in my arms,
Whenever I want you... and all your charms,
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream.
Dream, dream, dream... Dream."

"It was on just such a sunny afternoon as this when sister Death had dragged me out from one of my more sombre closet's onto the lively sphere known as Earth. We watched the children play soccer on a stretch of grass near a roadway. With cat-like suddenness, she got up and moved towards the road. Scant eons later, a young dreamer quickly discovered he would never sit in the shade of Fiddler's Green again, as a truck took his young life as he ran out onto the road to retrieve his ball.

While I do not understand how she can dispense with her duties so easily, I am aware that she too wonders why I am so moody about doing my own. I often wish I had her attitude, but I do not. I was not made that way.


Death gave me a curious gift that day. A Walkman, the locals call it. It plays musical tapes. I do not care much for it, but the poetry is soothing. I like this poet. He seems to know all about me and my world. Maybe he learned these verses in my land and brought them out with him. The attuned can. I wonder where he heard these wondrous words? They make me think. Break on through to the other side.


Has it been 10,000 years? What matters time, though? Yet, I feel the momentary loss. True, I am not in love, though I do care for her. An Endless one may never love a mortal. Or so past experience has thought me. But now... Meridia... my fair child. I remember when I first encountered you.


When I first noticed her, I had only just arrived back in my world after decades of supernatural imprisonment at the hands of that thrice accursed human and his foul offspring. I was only just beginning to put my affairs in order when she came to me.


Ah. A Persian dream of attar flooded my perceptions as she knocked on my gates. Matthew was busy elsewhere searching for the whereabouts of the dread Corinthian, but Corban was nearby. For a dodo bird, he is fleet of foot. I bade him to let her in with great haste. I followed the sweet smell of her perfume. So pungent. So aromatic... even in the nether void outside my domain. As she stepped through my portal, I commanded my winds to blow a warm gentle breeze about her.


My passion had become aroused. Not by her nakedness, for that is not MY way, but rather because of... a scent. A taste of promised fruit?


I called forth a world of purest enchantment for her pleasure. She gleefully slipped into the dreamscape.

I sat beyond her perceptions, in my den, and watched.


She ran along the white beach towards the pulsating waves. The water broke in unending sighs in rhythm with the breath of her physical form. Rolling in. Crashing out. Calm excitement. Anticipation. Meridia dove into the waters of bluest blue with carefree abandon. She "knows" no harm will befall her in this place.

Deep below, a volcanic fissure opened up slightly to release its warmth in conjunction with the needs of her thoughts.

She laughed gleefully as a giant sea turtle glided effortlessly beneath her. Its grace belying its mass... as it does in the protoplasmic regions.


Pausing for an unrequired breath, she moved toward it. Her alabaster skin glowed as though surrounded by an aurora. It was, in fact, me. My own curiosity for this wonderful creature caused me to dismiss my sense of station to monitor her closer.

I enveloped her body. She noticed not my presence.


Thin arms reached out to caress the long neck of the creature. It swam away to her dismay, but returned quickly after performing a figure eight in the liquid sky. Next she/we grasped the magnificent beast about the neck. The three of us floated along the underside of the waves. Together. Alone. Timeless. Mute.

Overhead, the waves quickened their rolling and crashing upon the pristine sand of the Green.

It was over far too soon for her. She was called back to her own realm of the Material by a hidden inner mechanism within her mind.

I removed myself from about her, and sat contemplatively in my chair. Meridia grimaced from the anguish of lost delight, and moved between the red-bottom quark field to find herself at the borders of the Dream.

I remember the look of awe and pleasure as she turned back to glimpse once more the fullness of her fantasy. Her flaming red hair waved majestically in my winds. She smiled, turned and skipped merrily through the gates Corban had opened in anticipation. In the eon of a heartbeat, she snapped instantly back to the land of the walking dead.

Meridia has come back to visit me every sleep sequence. Or rather, she comes to play in my shadow... unaware of my presence... oblivious to my care.

It seems to be a brief moment of celebration for me when she comes. We have tripped the light fantastic. Danced the fandango with the pastoral Fire Pixies. Walked to the farthest stars. Sat 'neath the tallest elm tree and watched as rabbits picked wild hyacinth's in baskets made of purest sunshine for her. We have soared with the ancient Wyverns of Blyth IV and soared as them.


We have played together as one for the past six years of her brief mortal life. My elder sister says I now act as though one in love. Nonsense, of course. What would Death know about love? She does not understand the feelings of camaraderie I seek. And only that, of myself, do I give up to her. The people of Earth are curious facets to me and Meridia is a gem of purest quality.

I part company with my sister and enter my realm via Destiny's doorway. Even in my home, I feel "bothered" by Teleute's comments.

I do wish I could reveal my presence to her... but no! No more! I am Morpheus! I am the Dream King. For what possible reason do I need love? I am no puny mortal! My duty is all. It's who I am! It's what I am."

Matthew, having just arrived back from Earth's material plane, wisely hides behind a reverie while his master rants.

In the background, strains of forgotten poetry and music resonate blissfully throughout the Dream.

"Hmmm," thinks Matthew as he flaps his black wings. "There shall be no nightmares tonight, except, perhaps, in this chamber."

...HURT THEMSELVES. Destiny turns another page in his great book.


The CAP-locked lines... those are words from the Book of Destiny. Destiny is Dream's brother, but won't play a role in the story after this except for... you know, destiny.

As a heads-up... I was never the type of person who remembers his dreams. I must have had them, but I never recalled them. My friend Rob would tell me of his dreams that had him flying in the air like a swimmer... and all I could do was recount maybe five dreams in total that I could recall... and one of them seems to want to predict my death at the age of 87... with me falling through some thin ice as I shoo away some hockey-playing kids because it is dangerous. Sounds like me... It's a recurring dream that I have had since I was four.

While writing this tale, I was suddenly flush with all sorts of gruesome nightmares, adapting them as nightmares and dreams throughout this story. Why was I suddenly rife with sleepy images? Well, more shall be revealed as the story progresses.

Still sleepy?
Andrew Joseph

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