Calliope - In The Arms Of Morpheus

Chapter 18

One night of utter bliss. Calliope was ready to take whatever he was ready to give her.
"Do not answer my foolish question right now."
She sat up in bed, now fully awake, his silhouette tall and dark against the fire in the blazing fireplace of her bedroom.
"Consider my offer today. Answer it tonight." Oneiros turned to her, lips pursed, his gaze intent. "I want this to be a decision made with a cool head, and not based on desire."
Didn't he know, that there was a difference between desire and love? Although her heart already knew the answer, she gave in to another desire, and nodded. Calliope wanted to spend another day in the Dreaming. "As you wish."
Was this still a dream? No. This was real. Calliope had a sour taste in her mouth, her limbs numb but starting to tingle from the blood starting to rush through.
"How are you feeling, today?" Her host stepped to the bed, his coat plain, but with a material from the future, revealing some kind roubust leg-clothes and black boots. He stretched out a hand and she took it, feeling the shared warmth spread between them, as he pulled her up into a standing position.
Calliope took a moment to adjust, but felt less dizzy than the night before.
"Better."
"Good." He nodded. "We will refrain from straining activities for the moment, but there is something I would like to show you." He waved, and a basket, covered with a white cloth manifested on her bed. "Would you please take this? You may want to eat later on."
"Of course." Calliope's heart beat fast in her chest. Where were we going to go? She fastened her sandals, then grabbed the basket and straightened up. She was ready.
"Come, sweet Calliope." She took his offered hand, happiness flowing between their fingers. "Let me show you how I build dreams."

***

A few minutes later, Morpheus' dear muse sat on a blanket at the shore to the sea of dreams. She looked like a vision, in the dusty golden light from the nearby desert. He could only imagine what it was like, to see the silver shore of the sea of dreams for the fist time. She held a sandwich in one hand, which she seemed to have taken quite a liking to. In the other hand she held a glass of watered down wine, a compromise between her being Greek and him not able to watch her eat another date.
"Which one is the dream for couples?" She gestured at his dream-sketches, who looked like black, mannequins, immobile, gaping holes where the face should be, facing away from the lapping sea.
"This one." Morpheus placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the creatures, and its golden veins lit up from the energy through our connection.
She stared at it, her food hovering in front of her open mouth. "It's beautiful! How did it start?"
That was a really good question. Before it became real, it had been made of intuition. "I know I have to create a Dream. I close, my eyes. If I am powerful enough, it manifests."
She took a sip of her wine. "And then, what do you do then?"
"I think of its purpose."
Morpheus inhaled, rested both his hands on the dream's shoulder, and closed his eyes.
The dream started to warm beneath his hands.
Calliope gasped. "This is so incredibly beautiful!"
He inhaled again, and thought about the perfect man, one, who was so filled with love and devotion for his woman, he was ready to do anything for her. Ready to suffer for her, if it meant she would be well.
Calliope gasped again, the dream had to be at its fullest glow, so lit up, that she would probably not be able to see its shape anymore.
Morpheus imagined his beauty, sculpted muscles, shapely legs, and the ability for him to take on whatever shape the dreamer would be attracted to. He would be different for everybody, who looked at him. Shaping, at its purest form.
There. He could feel at his fingertips, that he was now fully formed. Morpheus let his fingers slip up his neck and face, and closed his eyes. He was not finished yet.
"Incredible." Calliope whispered.
Morpheus relinquished the connection to the dream, let go with his hands and opened his eyes. To him, he had a vaguely manly form, his naked body black, marbled with gold.
"He... " Calliope dropped her food bent to push herself up. Morpheus strode to her and offered her his hand to help her up. She walked to the dream and stared at it with round eyes and open mouth. "He is perfect!" She stepped close. "Can I touch him?"
"Of course. He is not woken yet."
Her hand touched his arm, and slid slowly up to his neck, until it cupped his cheek. "Why?" Now both her hands cupped his cheeks, she stared up into his face. "Why did you make him like this?"
Morpheus had to smile. "Well, what does he look like, to you?"
"You do not know?" She stared at him, over her shoulder.
Morpheus shrugged, then buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, realizing too late he had forgotten to manifest a t-shirt under his now open coat. "I gave him the ability to change according to the onlooker's desire."
She looked back at the dream, then back at him. Her hands glided down the dream's chest, her head cocked to the side. Then she let go, looked at Morpheus' chest and took a step towards him.
"He looks just like you."