Dreaming of a new life

maybe i can leave my old life behind

[why am i such a sinner please-]

\Dream pov/

It had been about a week since Dream had escaped the prison. His stomach ached, he hadn't eaten since the breakout, yet he continued to run. He'd rather suffer starvation than risk the chance of being trapped in that hellhole again. What felt like bounds of forests laid out before him, but still, he pressed on. He didn't care if he had to travel a million blocks out, it would be worth it in the end.

Dream almost tripped into a ravine, trapped in his own mind. While he tried his utmost to forget, the memories of the prison would not fade away like he so desired. The ravine stretched down into a lake of lava, and Dream considered jumping. Perhaps the only way to forget his past was to leave his life himself. On the other hand, he won't always be the only one who can revive the dead, and if anyone he knew tried to bring him back, it'd be a fate worse than death to go back.

Dream saw a berry bush, and took as many as he could. There would be no point in escaping just to die anyway. Dream was determined to survive. He looked at the cuts he had gotten on his hands from the bush, wincing from the pain, but pressed on regardless. Falling at the most minor of inconveniences was not worthy of someone of his reputation. He ripped off parts of his shirt, and wrapped his hands up so the bleeding would stop, and kept moving.

Dream stopped for a moment, and thought about the people he would be leaving behind. The friends he made, the enemies, George. All the memories he had made of his time on the SMP, all of that would be gone. Dream pondered, wondering if he could still go back. Then he remembered all those that had betrayed him, left him for himself. The people who used him for their own agenda. He looked behind him, not a trace of the old world visible. Dream made a decision. The only way was forward.

\Onceler pov/

Everything was gone. His company, his products, his life's purpose. All of it, gone. He had been too blind to see what he was doing, and now he had to pay the consequences for it. Around him was boundless wasteland, the Trufulla Tree stumps serving as a memory for the fallen, the black oil ponds just as dark as the man that had led him here. He had done nothing but take, and take, yet it was he who had nothing in the end. Just him, the clothes on his back, and the cabin he called home.

He looked up to a starless sky, just the red hue of destruction and gray shade of smoke enveloping his world. He reminisced of a different time, a simpler time, where him and that orange fool would stare up at that beautiful sky, before he had let his greed get the better of him. Everything around him was a mess, just like him. He went inside, sick of being reminded of his mistakes, but even there he could escape the mistakes of his past. It was completely empty save for an old wooden bed that had seen it's own fair share of trouble. Everything else had been taken to keep himself afloat, or broken by an angry customer or environmental activist. He lined the walls, realising he hadn't cleaned the place since he had hired someone to do it for him months ago. Now that they left, the place was coated with dust and cobwebs, along with the floors littered with shattered glass and other assorted garbage.

He sat on his bed, and looked through the gaps of his boarded up windows. No lights shone through to comfort him, just the same darkness that he felt like he would be getting incredibly familiar with. After hours of wallowing in self pity, he decided to sleep, hoping that whatever dreamworld he found himself in was better than the harsh reality that he had created.

\Dream pov/

He had been through scorching deserts and freezing arctic fields, yet nothing was like the strange land before him. The ground had lost all of it's colour, like the place was covered in concrete. Strange stumps populated the place, like there had once been a beautiful land, but a selfish soul had taken it all away. The water looked like it had been poisoned a thousand times over, each poison deadlier than the last. The sky looked like the looming fog of the Nether, red and impending. Yet, Dream could not but feel a certain attraction to the place, like there was something important here. For the first time in a month, he had decided to finally rest somewhere.

Within the rolling plains of wilderness stood a single lone cabin. Perhaps in the past it might've been something impressive to see, but now it just looks like a house of broken dreams. The walls were overgrown with a vine desperately struggling to survive, the windows were all messily boarded up, as if the person had done it while an angry mob was preparing to storm the place, and while it stood tall, there was nothing proud about it. While most people would see an abandoned mess, Dream saw an opportunity for a new home. He walked up to the front door, and found that it was locked. Perhaps someone was here, after all, he knocked, and waited in anticipation.