Flashing Lights

5: All Aboard The Thought Train

It was incredibly ironic that Dream was plagued by nightmares.

Unfortunate irony, but ironic nonetheless.

Often he would wake up with a sore, stiff jaw and a bloody, bitten tongue from clamping his mouth shut, if only so he didn't scream himself raw during the night. It wasn't common that he woke up making noise but as time passed the number of occurrences rose.

He didn't want to be a bother to Sapnap, his best friend who had so graciously offered his home to Dream. It was bad enough that Sapnap had to put up with him, without causing him the extra stress by waking him up in the early morning. All because he couldn't handle his punishment. What kind of villain was he? A cowardly, weak one apparently. So no, he would not be bothering Sap with his own demons.

Especially since that demon of his was soon to be Sapnap's boyfriend/fiancé. He would never forgive Dream for that.

If he was honest, he wouldn't forgive himself for that either. He couldn't bring himself to ruin the blaze hybrid's image of Quackity for no reason.

The weight of his secrets was getting a bit heavy, though. Having to keep all of it to himself was hard but talking about it seemed a lot harder. Dream would often lie awake after a night terror and wonder what he would say if he were to tell Sapnap the truth.

It drained him a lot. All of it; the dreams, secrets, the assumptions, getting up and doing every day over again.

Some days would make it harder for him to eat, after watching himself vomit up poisonous potatoes, blood and bile. It was hard to stay hydrated after watching himself be drowned in the respawn pool by Sir. It was harder to get out of bed after having his autonomy taken away from him. It was hard to be a person when he was treated like an animal, like a monster.

So he started taking potions to supplement himself. He could drink potions. Even in his nightmares the potions were always splash ones. He would only have half a bottle of health, regen or strength in the morning and save the second half for the afternoon. He always made sure to do it outside of the house, as he was sure Sapnap would get mad about him doing it.

The nightmares never got any better, he only got better at handling them when he woke up. It was either the stifling heat and the suffocating cell walls that kept him trapped or it was the chilling breeze that sent goosebumps across his skin as he was murdered. It was either Sir or the Warden standing over top of him. It was either potions to be used on him or the netherite point that cracked a ravine into his forehead. Either the jagged obsidian or the hard dirt underneath him, the blinding light of the sun in his eyes or the orange tint burned in by the curtain of molten lava.

Actually, he didn't mind the lava so much. Sure it sealed the lid on his isolated box, but it was beautiful.

Dream had an... unhealthy admiration of the lava. He was self aware enough to hesitantly admit that, but it wasn't all that bad in his eyes.

During his long, very long, stay in Pandora's Vault, he stuck many of his limbs in the lava. It didn't matter if it killed him or not since he could just respawn and it wouldn't even scar. He just liked the way it made him feel alive. It wasn't the best method he'd found, even Techno acknowledged that it wasn't "healthy behaviour," and that he needed, "to go see a psychologist."

He just liked it. He didn't really see it as self harm since it was to make him better. He felt a lot better after he did it so why shouldn't he? He could always respawn, free of extra scars to his patchwork skin. He was doing it to help.

Even now, outside of that gods forsaken hell hole, he had that urge.

Even in this new time, far away from the prison, Dream was struck with the desire to burn himself. Stick his hand in the campfire, stand in the lava at the shores of the Nether, lie down and strike a flint so that the spark landed on his chest. He wanted it to consume him and his mortal flesh, and arise like Heracles, a god, from the funeral pyre.