Night Ember lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, watching a tiny spider build its web up in one of the corners. He couldn’t sleep. Partly because of all the strange things that had happened in the past day, and partly because in the bunk below him, Bolt was snoring so loudly that he could be easily mistaken for an accelerating motorcycle.
So… what now? Am I supposed to just leave my life as Lucid Dreamer behind?
I’m not ready to leave. I haven’t finished watching Sweet grow up; I’ll never be able to know what her cutie mark will be — what her destiny is supposed to be.
And Honey… I’ll never be able to make it up to her. I should have prioritised her over my work. I should have spent more time with her. I should have…
Night sighed. I know they’re not real… they’re just a part of that simulation, but more importantly, they’re still a part of my life. And I — I already miss them.
Just like I miss Lightning.
Oh, Lightning. If only you were here with me right now, you’d be able to tell me what to do.
What is Dr. Hawk trying to achieve?
Why is he doing this?
Lost in his thoughts, he slowly grew weary, his eyelids growing heavy, as, before he completely drifted to sleep, one more question echoed in his mind.
Will I ever see my girls again?
Floating.
I am floating, floating in the darkness.
I am floating in the darkness, and there is no sound. No sound at all, save for my quiet heartbeat and my steady breathing.
I know how this dream goes. I know how it ends.
…
Wait.
There is a light. I hear laughter.
The darkness melts away, like a grey fog clearing away into mere tendrils of white mist.
Sweet? Honey?
Is that you?
…
We are standing in a park — the public park near our home in Ponyville. I feel my skin begin to grow warm, the heat from the beaming sun tickling my coat gently in the lovely summer morning. Above me, emerald-green leaves rustle in the breeze, their branches swaying slowly from left to right in a mesmerising dance. The fragrant scent of sweet flowers fill the fresh air, as flamboyantly coloured butterflies flutter and flit among the thick bushes.
“Daddy, daddy!”
I look down at my daughter, who sits on her haunches in front of me, gazing up at me with those sparkling amethyst eyes. She grins at me with a chocolate ice-cream smeared smile, pointing to something to her left in excitement.
“Daddy! Push me on the swings!”
I heave her up onto my shoulders and carry her to the swings, not in control of my body, as if all of this is some faint memory I am experiencing for the second time.
She clambers onto the seat, grabs hold of the ropes and kicks her hooves up and down enthusiastically. “I wanna fly, daddy! Like a pegasus!”
I pull back the swings and push her forward, but she doesn’t go very high. “Higher, daddy, higher!”
I push the swings harder, but it feels like my body is drained of energy, weak and helpless. She travels only a little further, and she turns her head to look at me in disappointment. “Come on daddy, I know you can do it!” She says, but her voice is void of the light and hope she had always conveyed. “One more time!”
I try yet again, but this time she doesn’t even budge an inch. It was if she was growing, taller, stronger, older. I look up at my baby daughter, and see a teenage mare staring back at me. I flinch. Was this… was this…
Sweet Dreamer gazes back at me, getting down from the swing seat, but her eyes seem to look past through me, as if I am nothing but a ghost floating in front of her. Her eyes are sad; she has the eyes of somepony who has lost so much in her life that she feels like nothing, nopony important.
“Sweet — I’m so sorry! I never meant to leave you, I —”
She trudges past me, not even meeting my gaze. “Sweet, please… can you hear me? I’m sorry — please, I’ll come back! I’ll do anything, just look at me… please…”
I notice her flank and my heart sinks.
It is blank.
She never found her destiny.
Sweet walks off into the distance, and I follow her desperately. She is heading towards another mare on the other side of the park, but one much older, her skin wrinkled with age, her lips dry and chapped. They sit together on the wooden park bench, relaxing in the sunshine, yet their eyes were still tinged red with worry and heartbreak.
Sweet opens her mouth to speak.
“Mummy? Is this really where my father used to take me to play?”
“Yes, dear. You two used to come to this park all the time to play on the swings. You were inseparable, Sweet, and he loved you very much.”
Sweet stares off into the distance. “Then why don’t I remember him at all?”
A knife plunges into my heart. She — she doesn’t remember me? But I… but I…
Honey Maple smiles at her daughter, but it is a smile of pity. “Oh, Sweet. Don’t forget, you were only very young at the time. It’s been years and years now; of course you wouldn’t remember. He left us a long, long time ago.”
“Why did he leave us? Didn’t you say he loved us?”
“Of course he did, Sweet. But he loved his other life more, so he had no choice to choose it over this one.”
“Oh.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I do my best to swallow it, but it only grows bigger and bigger. I try to reach out to them, but my outstretched hooves simply pass through them like air. A voice resonates in my head, the three words it speaks ricocheting off the walls of my cranium like bullets firing into the insides of my skull.
They’re not real.
They’re not real.
They’re not real.
As a single wet tear runs down my cheek, I squeeze my eyes shut, and I am sucked out of the dreamscape, my wife and daughter vanishing into a whirlpool of my own illusions.
Dr. Obsidian Hawk sat calmly at his computer, once again facing all fifty of the mounted screens, each one of them now flickering with static.
“Sir!” A guard burst into the room, puffing and panting, his face slick with sweat. “They got away. The Lucid Dreamers disappeared before we could catch them!”
Dr. Hawk swivelled his chair around to face the guard, his eyes menacing and vicious. “Are you saying… that you were being incompetent?” He snarled.
“I, uh, suppose so, sir. My deepest apologies; we will continue the search of the facility at once!” The guard scurried out of the doorway, his tail between his hind legs.
Go on then, weakling. Run. Run for your puny little life, Dr. Hawk chuckled evilly. I’ve already found them.
He pressed a button on the remote on his armrest, turning on all fifty of the monitors at once.
Little Lucid Dreamers. Hiding away like cowards in your little shelter, I see.
He stroked the screen where Jasmine Skies was sleeping, tucked up comfortably in her cosy bunk bed. And you. Oh, Jasmine, my child… I am nowhere near done with you yet.