Dreamtale: Origins

Chapter 2: Deeper Thoughts

Chapter is made purely off of imagination

Edited

:):

'The small skeletons didn't have anybody, so they passed the days talking to each other. They were brothers, they were always together.'
~Dreamtale Comic (Joku) Pg 8

:):

After a few moments of laying there in the grass, breathless from laughter, Nightmare gently closed his journal. Dream frowned, a rare sight. "Is that all?" He asked, head tilting slightly to the side.

With a sigh, Nightmare responded, "Yes. That's all. Or at least, that's what the voice said."

Dream flopped onto the grass and looked up into the sky with his golden eyes. Nightmare could tell he was tired, and he would start rambling right about... "The voice talks to me sometimes, too. It tells me that it's proud of me and all that I do. They say that they are proud of you, too. Do you really think that the voice is our mother?"

...now.

Nightmare laid down beside his brother and also looked up at the sky. With his violet eyes he could just barely make out the blue sky and the sun between the branches of the large tree. "Yes," he said to Dream, "I do believe that the voice is our mother, and telling us a real story. And I think that it's about us."

Dream made a grass-angel in the ground, flattening a few stray daises, before glacing over at his brother. "If the voice is really our mother," he half whispered, "Then the story must be about us!" Dream gently removed his spirit from his body.

Spirits and souls are very different. While souls have a definitive shape (such as a heart), spirits are like the flickering flames of a lit candle on breezy night. They were constantly stretching and contracting, growing and shrinking, growing brighter and dimmer (though more often the former than the latter).

The two brothers watched the golden flicker-flames of Dream's true form for a few silent moments.

"After all, I have been able to kind of 'leave' my body sometimes when I sleep. Of course, I barely do it now because... well, you know. There haven't been many visitors, have there?"

Nightmare, when he saw that Dream had removed his spirit, he did too out of instinct. His spirit was... slightly different. It was a royal violet, and often dimmed before exploding in brilliant purple shades. Although beautiful, if you were to get too close you would begin to feel uncomfortable. Negative. Violent.

Nightmare cleared his throat before changing the topic.

"I think that the story really was from our mother, and that we are those beings. It only makes sense. Our spirits match, our shells match, and it appears that we're the only ones that can hear her."

There was one time when a visitor with a blue soul came by, and their mother told them not to trust the newcomer. When Dream had ignorantly asked if the visitor could hear her voice, they looked at the two like they were crazy. They soon left out of either boredom or discomfort or both.

Dream sat up, and brushed off his light blue shirt with his golden fingerless gloves. Giving an exaggerated yawn, he bluntly stated, "I'm tired, brother. Can we sleep now?"

Nightmare looked at where the sun was giving off its final golden rays and drew out a sigh. He could feel a tiny bit of lonliness, even sitting beside his brother's aura. The little fracture of loneliness was one of the side effects of being made of negative feelings; you would always feel them leaking in.

The effects were especially bad when he was alone, and they were even worse when he was on his side of the tree. Negativity thrived inside of him, and it was constantly trying to get inside his skull and make him think bad things.

Standing up, Nightmare brushed his purple shirt and black velvet pants off (even though there was nothing on them) and adjusted his crown. He suddenly wondered where the fancy clothes had come from. Magic, perhaps?

"Brother?" Dream called down from where he had (quickly) climbed to, "You got a little bit lost down there! And I really think that you should go to sleep right now. The sun is almost asleep!"

Nightmare had to admit that he sometimes envied his brother's happiness. But he contained the jealousy inside of him, and kind of norished himself with the emotion. "Don't worry Dream, I'll... I'll be going to sleep in a moment," called Nightmare.

Dream nestled into the tree's branches and looked out at the rollings hills that the sun was going behind. The golden apples glowed with the fading sunlight. Dream felt his mother's sweet voice whispering in the breeze.

Don't you love to see how the sun sets?

Dream smiled and closed his eyes. "Yes, mother," he whispered back. "It's always nice to go to sleep here."

It was always nice up there where the golden fruits were. You could hardly think of anything bad when near them, and they would give you the best dreams if you slept by them. Of course, Dream always drifted off in the branches, surrounded by the dim glow of the fruits.

With another long yawn, Dream murmured, "Goodnight." The last thing that he felt and heard was the power of the golden apples seeping into him, and his mother's soft voice saying,

Goodnight, my child. Sweet dreams.