The Endless Dreaming

Dream a little dream of me

Dream of the Endless, clad in his flowing black robes, materialized in the living room of John Constantine's former lover, Robin. The room was filled with a heavy sense of foreboding, and the air was thick with the scent of death. Robin, weakened and pale, lay on the couch, his life force slowly draining away.

John Constantine stood by, his face etched with concern as he watched Dream's arrival. "Bloody hell, Dream. I never thought I'd see you here," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of relief and apprehension.

Dream's eyes, filled with a timeless wisdom, met Constantine's gaze. "John, I have come to retrieve the pouch of sand that you foolishly left in Robin's possession," he stated, his tone distant yet commanding. "Its power is too great to be wielded by mortals."

Constantine ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, I know, mate. I messed up. But I can't just let Robin die because of my mistake. Is there any way you can save him?"

Dream's expression remained stoic, his voice devoid of emotion. "The sand has already claimed the lives of those in this apartment, John. It drains the life force from anyone it touches. I can try to extract it, but there are no guarantees."

Constantine's gaze hardened, his determination shining through. "Do it, Dream. We can't just stand here and let Robin die. You owe me this one."

Dream's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "I owe you nothing, Constantine. But I will help for the sake of Robin's life."

With a wave of his hand, Dream conjured a small vial and approached Robin's unconscious form. As he reached out to touch the pouch of sand, the room seemed to grow colder, and the air crackled with an otherworldly energy.

"No, please!" Robin's weak voice pleaded, his eyes filled with fear.

Dream's voice was cold but firm. "Hold still, Robin. This won't be pleasant, but it is necessary."

As Dream's fingers made contact with the pouch, a surge of dark energy coursed through the room. The sand, infused with Dream's power, writhed and twisted, resisting his attempts to extract it. The air filled with an eerie silence as the struggle between Dream and the sand intensified. Dream's eyes glowed with a fierce determination as he focused his will, refusing to be deterred by the sand's resistance. With a surge of his power, he channeled his essence into the pouch, attempting to separate it from its deadly hold on Robin.

The room trembled, and the sand swirled violently, lashing out at Dream with tendrils of darkness. The air crackled with the raw power of the supernatural clash, as Dream's resolve remained unyielding.

Constantine watched with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew the stakes were high, and the outcome hung in the balance. He couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and guilt for involving Dream in this dangerous predicament.

Suddenly, Dream's eyes widened, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. The sand, sensing its imminent defeat, fought back with a renewed ferocity. It wrapped itself tightly around Dream's hand, attempting to drain his very essence.

Gritting his teeth, Dream summoned every bit of his divine strength. He closed his eyes, focusing on the ethereal realm from which he drew his power. With a surge of energy, he unleashed a blinding burst of light, forcing the sand to relinquish its grip.

The room fell into an eerie silence once more, the sand now still and lifeless. Dream carefully collected it, sealing it within the vial with a swift motion. He turned to Constantine, his expression unreadable.

"I have retrieved the pouch, John," Dream said, his voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and accomplishment. "But the damage it has caused is irreversible. Robin will need time to recover, and he may never be the same."