//------------------------------// // Fanfare // Story: Live Your Dreams // by Ditherer the Fussbudget //------------------------------// "Celestia is the goddess of all the light touches!" Sunkiss exclaimed. "All reality is her domain! The moon is but a temporary holder of those things, a reflector of its light and agent of its will as much as any other. If it does a good job, say as much and I will admit it with a clear heart! But if you claim that the moon is equal to or master of the sun, that it holds a greater sway on reality, then that I cannot accept!" Star Reacher's reply came low-voiced: "Reality is the smallest part of the moon's kingdom." -Excerpt of unknown origin, reprinted in the "Heavens" section of Ponder Poser's The Great Canterlot Dialogues, 3rd Edition. You are Anon. You're living off the grid, taking it to extremes, all because you have a righteous hankering for the best princess. The only time her magic isn't monitoring dreams is for two hours every midday - you know because you've watched the guard changes. An alicorn using constant magic needs those 120 minutes of rest to get back to 100%. To make sure she doesn't know what you're up to, you have to sleep the same hours. It's been a week and a half now. "Anonymous, the moon's coming up!" That's Moondancer, official student of your woman-to-be. Since the Night Princess is pretty hands-off about teaching anything, she earns a living wage for doing independent study. You'd be jealous if you hadn't crashed at her house for the last week. Soon, you’ll be living in the palace. Going on nightly adventures. Fucking with ponies' dreamscapes... "Ah, Luna..." "ANON!" Electricity arcs from Moondancer's horn and zaps you back into reality. She's told you the jolts she uses are calculated to leave no lasting damage, but it doesn't make you look like less of a moron. "Thanks. What's up?" "The moon's rising! We've got another forty-eight seconds!" "Shit!” You leap up and into your day. “Positions!" She scrunches her face and you're both teleporting, sliding through reality like squeezing through a tight alleyway made of jam. Then you're beneath the highest royal tower. Luna's up there, keeping the cycle moving even now. "Where's my trumpet?" Dancer facehoofs, and the golden instrument pops into your hand. Then, in her immaculate wisdom, she teleports to safety. In the old days, ponies would celebrate the raising of the moon like any other royal function. It took you a whole day in the library to learn that tidbit. It took several more days to steal this thing and walk here. What you’re saying is that you haven't had much time to practice. But hey, you were always a natural on the recorder. You take a deep breath, put your fingers on some holes, and begin to play. Luna ...Is somepony declaring an insult? You’re Princess Luna, Ruler of the Night Court, and there’s some sort of infernal racket below you. It’s... certainly some manner of music. Maligning your work with bad play? Your sister tolerates such sauciness in her subjects. Thankfully, your sister is asleep. You alight and fall to the ground to investigate. It’s... the human. He reorients the trumpet at you as you land, and plays ever more furiously. Is this some kind of cultural reconciliation? An act of goodwill? “Anonymous, what are you doing in the presence of the Night Court?” He finishes spitting and sputtering into the instrument, then pulls it away and takes a deep breath. Then he falls over, unconscious. A glance betrays how deep under he is; he’s not dreaming. It was extremely novel, meeting a species that spent half their sleep resting and half dreaming for the first time. Whatever he’s doing, it seems harmless, and it could be a few hours before he recovers. You know, more than most, how dangerous the night can be. With a thought, less energy than it takes to actively suppress your magic, you envelop him in a blue field of light and send him up to your tower, stowing him away safely. You’ve already decided to attend to him once your more interesting duties are finished, and as he leaves your influence they begin to present themselves ot you. Anon You’re walking to the grocery store in third person. You feel like there's something weird about this, maybe about all of the people walking around you, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Maybe it's the fact that they have fingers too. The grocery store has ten sub-basements, and each one has a pirate king living in it. You're not sure why you're going, actually. Isn't there something important going on somewhere? Or is that another one of these random feelings? You watch yourself go inside, but you bump into something. Something solid, not like the background-people walking past you. "Hello, Anonymous." Your third-person camera reorients, but you already know it's the Princess. She's looking you in the eye. No. In the camera. Her horn glows for a moment and suddenly you're inside your own body. Huh. You guess that's a little strange. "Hey, Princess. Are you here for the basement quest?" As you ask the question, the details of why you're here become completely apparent, like random letters turning into words. You're here with Luna to get to the tenth basement and show her what's down there. If you thought about it harder you'd know what that is, but who cares, it'll be there. She looks at you for a moment. Appraising, maybe. Then, a solemn nod. Luna Anonymous' dreams are different from your other subjects'. There's a different... texture, perhaps. Time keeps skipping forward, and you can tell that the whole event will be over with in a few minutes, plus everything is far more nonsensical than you're used to. You remind yourself that Anonymous isn't a creature of harmony. That said, as a former bearer of the Element of Laughter, you have to walk behind him to hide your smile. Despite the fact that he seems so untempered, he has a rare sense of theatre. In the long run, dreams are typically boring and predictable, even born from the minds of great geniuses. You don't have your answers yet, but you can get to them in the next dream if this one doesn't pan out. It's not as if he'll remember. You feel a deep sense of tragedy at that thought. Your subjects remembered all of their dreams. That was why it was necessary to their health that you step in. To have so many dreams in so many directions, like a pony with an illness thrashing on the ground, and then not remember any of them... You wonder, for a moment, whether Anonymous is merely deeply sick. But he marches on, oblivious of where he is or how he's accomplishing this, pioneering a path through a hoard of gold coins taller than he is. ...When she's angry, your sister will sometimes call you a Princess of Lies. It's true, your domain conceals things. And dreams are false by nature, but they can be gorgeous falsehoods, just as paintings or odes. You've argued this many times. But looking at Anonymous, you partly want to grab him, shake him and tell him that he's in a dream. There's some curiosity mixed with your pity, you admit; you want to know what would happen. "Alright, we're here!" Anon "This is it!" Hands on your hips, you survey your grand destination: your bedroom. It's as drab and dull as you remember, but it's also full of pieces of your soul.  That makes sense, doesn't it? (Ah, whatever, you live in ponyland.) Luna joins you, looking really surprised. You gesture at the room and turn to her. No bright ideas or compulsions are coming to you right now, so you wait for something to happen. Her mouth's open. "Anonymous. Are these all aspects of me?" She's looking at the bits of your soul, probably. They're all bluey. Your sheets and wallpaper match the color scheme. The handful of posters on the walls feature her, too, some lounging at the beach and others in rich battle-armor. And, of course, there's a plushie of her, the one you wish you owned in its perfectly stuffed glory. "Yup!" She turns from it to look at you, and then turns back like it'll disappear when she stops seeing it. "Why?" Well, that's an easy one. "Because you're perfect!" She doesn't say anything. She's shivering a little, or something. The room's wobbling a little throughout time, probably. There's a disturbance - like a train switching tracks, and not knowing if you're coming or going. She turns to you and stares into your eyes. Then, in that moment, she kisses you. It feels like all of the kisses you had on Earth, but chopped up and woven together somehow, and then she's fading away. Or maybe it's you. … Ugh, you were asleep again. Why didn't Moondancer zap-- Where are you? This is the palace. Wait. Fuck. Did it happen already? Did it work? You scramble over to the window and see the sun coming up. Fuck! You'd better get out of here before the Princess notices you're in her personal space. Gotta hope she didn't think to look inside your dreams and drag out your intentions. The window's too high to jump out of... The front doors, then. As you creep over, they're thrown open. Luna "Anonymous of the Humankind, we formally recognize your acts of worship and courtship. We encourage you to continue your work. From now onward, you are under the eyes of the Lunar Court, as official camarilla in the second degree to your Princess. Accept these gifts, or cry not foul of your lot without them." His expression changed a lot during that, from startled to guilty to eventual adoration. He looks at his hands for a moment, as if marveling at his fingers. "I must play a mean trumpet." ... Now, while he tries to woo you in the waking world, sometimes your schedule aligns with his psyche and you can slip into his dreams. The bedroom isn't always a bedroom, but it's usually a nexus, an ending. Sometimes it's a lovely restaurant, a city street, a thick jungle. And he doesn't always make it there, or know what direction to go in. His dreams can ripple and change without him even knowing. You don't even worry about him remembering your presence any longer, it's clear it gets scrubbed out by the time he's out of bed. But, despite his lack of memory, he doesn't stand you up every time.Sometimes the ending is happy. And you think, with a little time, you and this plucky alien could become very close indeed.