Dreams were cruel, hateful, wonderful things. Fragile, beautiful, and ephemeral, existing only so that they could be crushed and destroyed.
Fluttershy’s heart had been ripped out a hundred, a thousand times in the course of her work. It was a fundamental law; sometimes something you nurtured, cared for, loved with all your heart just wasn’t meant to be. And the more love you poured into it, the more you felt your soul shred as you watched it slipping away.
Dreams were like that, she thought. Adorable baby kittens and bunnies, runts of the litter, the delicate, fragile flowers you hoped and prayed would survive and thrive, proving to the world that it doesn’t matter how big and strong you are, you just needed the courage to try.
But almost every time, one day you’d come down in the morning, and find a cold, stiff reminder that nature has no sympathy for small, weak, timid mistakes.
As a small, weak, timid thing herself, Fluttershy had taken that lesson to heart from a young age. Everypony had dreams; it was a natural part of life that was inescapable. But dreams were meant to die, and if you didn't understand that, they'd take you with them.
Bulk had never had to learn that lesson. He was about as far from small, weak, and timid as imaginable. He'd made his dreams come true through sheer force of will and muscle. He went from being a pegasus who'd never fly to medaling in the Equestrian Games, to being the first Wonderbolt to specialize in feats of mid-air strength. From being sweet and shy, to proposing to her two years before. He hadn't lost pets and cuddly friends. He hadn’t spent nights up late, nursing a patient that he knew deep down was already gone. He hadn't had to hold parents who'd....
And, for just a little while, he'd made Fluttershy believe that dreams were worthwhile. That when they did come true, it was so wonderful that it was worth the pain when they didn't.
But he'd learned. Oh how they'd both learned, even beyond Fluttershy's worst cases. All their dreams and hopes, destroyed with a single word.
Colic.
So many sleepless nights; no dreams for either them, but instead they were living a nightmare. Neither of them could do a thing, except camp out in their little Cherub Heart's room and pray for a miracle, for the tiny, helpless coughs to finally stop.
And then... then they had.
Now, they were both watching their dreams being lowered into the earth in a tiny black box.
Fluttershy looked forward stoically, wrapping a tender yellow wing around her blubbering, sobbing husband and drawing him in close.
Dreams were cruel, hateful, wonderful things. But the worst thing in the world was waking to find them gone.