Tales From The Story: Morpheus

Chapter 3: In the Realm of Dreams

As Hermes had guessed, the boat was in fact sinking. And rather rapidly. "We're in trouble," Morpheus said, forcing himself to remain calm.

Hermes stood frozen, his umber eyes wide in panic. The water would soon be in the boat. Thank goodness that they could both fly. "Use the stupid sandals!" Morpheus yelled, hoping to break Hermes out of his daze as he launched himself in the air.

On his way up, he grabbed Hermes's arm, pulling him into the air with him. He strained to keep them both in the air, feeling his grip on Hermes slipping. "Use your sandals!" he roared again.

Finally, Morpheus's voice cut through Hermes's mental fog. The wings on his sandals flapped, and Hermes was supporting himself. Morpheus released him, his own wings exhausted from the effort. He might have been able to support a girl with them, but Hermes? Never.

They somehow managed to make it to shore. Morpheus collapsed on the sand, his wings falling down at his sides. The wings on Hermes's sandals drooped down as he gasped for breath. The first words out of his mouth were, "Probably not?"

Morpheus shrugged, grinning a little. "I've been wrong before. Since when did you ever listen to me?"

Hermes made a face at him. "That's not funny. We almost died. We were over the River Styx!"

"Well, that wouldn't have been death," Morpheus disagreed. "Just the entrapment of our souls for all eternity, and, really, what's going to happen to us if we die anyway. So, I'd advise against dying."

"Good advice," Hermes said. "Advice I'm keen on following, and what's necessary to do that is to get out of here."

"I can concur with that," Morpheus answered. A door of light appeared in front of them. Suffice to say that neither of them had ever been so happy to leave the Underworld before.

A little while later, they sat in Morpheus's home at the back of his temple, in the multiple-bed front room. Hermes had taken off his sandals, absently stroking the tired wings on them. "You've made yourself a powerful enemy," he commented. "What do you plan on doing about it?"

"Trying to stay alive," Morpheus said, shrugging. He'd replaced his black cloak to cover his wings. "Beyond that? I'm not certain. I'm not sure how one is supposed to survive attacks from a major god?"

"No idea," Hermes said. "I'm a young god, remember? You know, 'son of Zeus'? The person to ask would probably be one of the original six. Hera, or Demeter, or Poseidon. Zeus would probably say you were a lunatic and of course Hades is the sixth."

"He probably wouldn't give me a straight answer, that's for certain," Morpheus agreed. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "I'm doomed."

"Don't say that," Hermes scolded. "Sleep on it. I'll see if I can get Apollo to give us a prophecy or something. It could be of use."

"If the prophecy tells me I'm going to die," Morpheus said, "don't tell me about it."

"I'm sure it won't." Hermes's voice failed to carry the assurance his words did. "I'll see you in the morning, Morpheus."

Morpheus gave him a vague wave as Hermes went out the door.

It didn't take much longer for Morpheus to fall asleep. As usual, though, while his body slept, his mind entered the world of dreams.

One would have thought that would be interesting, but more often than not it was frightening. It was astonishing what the mortal mind could invent. And sadly, most of the dreams they wanted to be rid of were either dreams of people they wished to forget, or nightmares.