| A continuation of another thread, where Stitch was Dreaming of a Reality. |
Stitch was sound asleep, warmly tucked into his Icewatch bed. He had originally had trouble sleeping in such a cold climate, but a few blankets and pillows later, with a bowl of heated water under his bed... well, he had managed to doze off. Now, he laid there, silently snoring away, his face peaceful and stoic. He was dreaming.  Dreaming. He knew it now. Ever since that one dream, he had become aware of his dreams. Aware of what they were, and aware of how he could manipulate them. Sometimes he could manipulate them. He had often heard stories from his children, stories of how they became superheroes in their dreams. Stories of how they simply willed powers into existence, and then suddenly those dreams allowed them to have those powers. It was an amazing and delightful concept, that his children could live out their creative fantasies while they slept. Fentya was the only one who said she couldn't manipulate her dreams. She was like him. Before that particular dream had occurred, when he was asleep and dreaming, he wasn't even aware he was dreaming. For him, the dreams were reality, for as long as he was sleeping and dreaming. He rarely remembered them, but when he did, he remembered how real they were. How unaware he had been that they were just dreams. He had sometimes wondered how the children managed to control and change their dreams so easily, when he was instead caught up in the dreamy web of fantasy. Perhaps he had found the answer. It was Imagination. The children had the imagination to push the boundaries of this world. Even if he was dreaming, his brain was bound by logic. He couldn't fly. It was impossible to fly. To imagine himself having wings, and then expecting wings to appear... It was a crazy thought. For a brief moment, he had tried, but he had gotten nowhere. Trying to manipulate this place made his head feel murky. It was like he was trying to manipulate mud into stone. It just kept leaking through his fingers. It just wasn't possible. Impossible. That wasn't a word that he should use here, was it? He was sitting on a wooden bench, out in the middle of never-ending wilderness. He wasn't blind, thank the Gods. He rarely had dreams where he was blind. All of his dreams existed in a reality that had occurred much before he had lost his vision. He was free to stare around this world, and study it for what it really was. It wasn't a mass of shifting Auras. It was actual grass, actual sky, actual trees. The wooden bench he was sitting on was old and gnarled, with stone feet that curled down into the ground, little vine patterns carved into the old and cracking legs. His booted feet rested on green grass, with patches of bare earth littered here and there. There were several trees around, and one of them was directly overhead. That was really the only odd thing about this dream landscape, besides the fact that the horizon never really ended. Those trees had clouds for leaves. Cocking his head up, he stared, dark black eyes studying the great white masses above him. Perhaps he did have more of an imagination than he thought. For some reason, the pretty white clouds didn't really seem to bother him, or surprise him. He wasn't in that playful of a mood, apparently. All he could worry about was the fact that they could turn into rain clouds. Would they? He hoped not. He didn't know how normal clouds turned into rain clouds, but he didn't want the little piece of fluff to suddenly let loose a torrent upon his head. Chewing his lower lip, he glanced around, curious. Why was he here? What significance did this place hold? After the dream with the Witch, he had realized that his dreams held many dark secrets. They held many things about himself that even he didn't know, at least on a surface level. For what reason did this memory exist? Why was it here? What purpose did it have in his life? His curiosity overcoming him, Stitch decided to experiment. Chewing on his lower lip even harder, a bad habit he turned to when he was concentrating, he focused. He drew upon his Djed, and focused, attempting to use Auristics in his dreams. It should be possible, right?  Dimly, the Auras of the world flickered into existence, and Stitch quickly glanced around. He wasn't so sure how it was working, or even if it was working right, but it was working. He took the opportunity he had been given, and hurriedly scanned the surroundings, not knowing how long his fortune would last. The landscape wasn't any different than anything he would see in the normal world. The clouds were an Aura he had never really noticed before, but they weren't all that exciting. The trees and ground were perfectly normal, as was the bench that he sat on. Sighing a bit in disappointment, Stitch glanced around again, and suddenly noticed something. What were those veins in the ground? Moving from the bench, Stitch lowered himself to his knees, gently placing fingers to the dirt underneath him. Somehow, part of the earth actually had veins running through it. Three colorful veins, twisting and turning, glowing with an almost divine color. They were just colors, but somehow... they were the most beautiful thing Stitch had ever seen. They twisted and turned around each other, pulsing with a life that somehow brought a tear to his eye. He wasn't sad. He was simply awestruck. Unknowingly, caught up in their beauty, he began to flood a bit more Djed to his eyes. He wanted to see more. He wanted to get closer to them, and understand their incredible allure. They were seductive in their simplicity, elegant in their beauty. Outside of the dream, Stitch slept, his body tossing in his bed, leaving him facing up toward the ceiling. His white bandage wraps had been removed from his eyes before he went to bed, leaving the damaged orbs a little unprotected than normal. Suddenly, the eyelids snapped open, leaving Stitch's blind white eyes staring at the ceiling, their gaze distant and vacant. Stitch was still sound asleep. |
