It had been a year since I, Princess Luna, was freed from my thousand years of imprisonment on the moon, and subsequently cleansed of that accursed parasite of a nightmare that infected me. It had been one, long year spent regaining my strength and flexing my old magic muscles, and now I was ready to go back to doing one of the things I had truly missed: dream walking. Yes, when I raised the moon tomorrow night, I would finally be able to walk amongst my subject’s dreams while they slept.
I would be able to once again sooth their fears, mend their pains, and give restful sleep to those who needed it.
But that was for tomorrow’s Night Court. For today, I slept. And as I slept, waiting out the rest of the daylight hours, I soon found myself in my own dreams.
Now, a lot of ponies don’t know it, but whenever I dream I’m always connected to the dream realm. Normally, this isn’t much of a problem whenever I sleep, given my schedule. After all, most ponies are out and about during the day, even if many of them do take a few hours every night to gaze upon my work. But they rarely sleep through the day like I do. Well, except for my personal staff, but they wore charms to keep themselves from suffering nightmares.
Seeing as how I got strong enough for my dream walking abilities to manifest themselves again, it came as a bit of a surprise that one soul was resting on what I could only assume was the same schedule as mine.
I sensed it long before I saw it. This soul, the quality of rest they were receiving was horrifyingly bad. So bad in fact, that I could feel it pushing up against my own dream bubble. Tearing open my own dream, I leapt out, and proceeded to take flight toward the source of the distress.
I flew for a while, with an ethereal body that those awake below would never have been able to see, even with the help of magic. It’s a unique experience, flying with what was in essence my consciousness. For one: whenever I had to do this in the day; the fabric that ties dreams together burns off as a result of the sun. All that means is that I can’t simply flip through dreams like somepony else would with the pages of a magazine. Instead, I had to hoof it like anypony else that was out and about during the day.
And the second thing that is different when dream walking during the day is that the world I see through my ethereal eyes is not nearly as colorful as it looks when I’m awake. In fact, it’s the opposite, its complete greyscale with the only exceptions being the few and far between dreams that crop up every now and again.
Pushing such thoughts aside, I continued my journey as swiftly as I could manage. It didn’t take long before I saw it, now that I had covered more than half of the distance that separated the two of us. And when I laid eyes on it, I stopped dead in the air, with what I can only imagine would be a look of pure shock on my face.
Whoever was dreaming, it certainly didn’t manifest in a bubble. It was an impossibly large thunderhead stemming from a single spot in the horizon. Sickly reddish-black lighting stuck the ground, and the torrential downpour was not of water, but was crimson red and it fell so heavy and thick that the ground couldn’t drink it in at all; leaving a foot deep reservoir that surged and rolled.
If it wasn’t for the fact that my nature prevents me from being harmed while I traveled the space between dreams, I don’t think I would have possessed the courage necessary to dive into that deluge. I am not a coward by any means, but that does not mean that I would have needlessly risked my life if I was faced with a storm like this in the waking world. So I dove in. I will admit that I was more than slightly horrified that the raindrops were made of blood, and it wasn’t warm. It was cold, it was dark, and if it wasn’t for the fact that my sense of duty outweighed my fear, I would have screamed and fled. But no, I could not do that! I don’t know what could have possibly happened in this soul’s life to warrant this type of manifestation, but no being that rests will go unattended by me!
I pushed forward, past the blood rain, the sickly lightening, and the screaming winds that both assaulted and were incapable of touching me. I flew over the town of Ponyville, where the six mares that cleansed me resided. By the time I got there, the illumination that the sun provided was heavily obscured by clouds, and beyond was a near pitch-black darkness. And below, the foot deep reservoir of blood was now two times that. To my eyes, all of my little ponies that lived there were wading through it without a clue as to what they were doing, leaving v-shaped wakes in their paths as they talked, laughed and went about their daily lives. I couldn’t blame them, though; they couldn’t have possibly known what they were slogging through. After all, the storm was subjected to the same rules as I was, which meant that they couldn’t be aware of it with any of the senses they possessed. I had to tear my eyes away from the sight. It was just to sickening to bear witness to.
I’ve seen nightmares before, I’ve seen horrifying things that a sleeping mind will conjure up, and I’ve felt the rough, sharp, unpleasant textures that separate them form the peaceful dreams that served as their opposite. But this? I have never seen a dream cloud do anything like this before. Anything else I may have faced in the past was mediocre at most. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was the nightmare that would forever be at the top of my list.
I pressed on, over Ponyville, and into what I recalled was Whitetail Woods. The central stem was in a deeper part of it; away from the outskirts, so that was where I headed. A few more minutes later, and I touched down next to the creature that the dark dream was being generated from, thankful that the blood rain did not reach here.
My first thought was that it was a Werewolf of some kind. But that couldn’t have been the case. For one, Werewolves were extinct. My sister and I saw to that long before I ever became victim of the parasitic nightmare. There was also the fact that Werewolves lacked the necessary mental capacity to create dreams when they slept. And finally, I have never seen a Werewolf with clean-although quite matted-fur before. In those days when they still stalked my night, they never bothered to wash themselves free of the blood and entrails of their victims.
After getting a good look at the creature, and failing to determine its gender in the process, I gathered myself, took a deep breath, and tore open a hole in the stem for me to walk through. Once I was fully inside, I took a look around.
The fact that dreams build a miniature world for themselves to occupy is the only constant I have found whenever I dream walk. I never know what will be waiting me when I slip inside, and the ground that I stepped on was dry, cracked and devoid of any life. Taking a good look around, I found that I was in the middle of an endless field. There were hills that gently sloped all around me, and it very well could have been beautiful. But with the dead tan colored ground, it only served to reinforce the feeling of being alone. Far more alone than I was for a thousand years on the moon, I never would have thought it possible if I hadn’t been there.
The sky above wasn’t much better. It was cold grey, and only invoked feelings of sorrow and despair. No stars shone in it, and if the ground was devoid of life, then the sky was devoid of happiness and joy.
And whenever I breathed in the air of the dream, it gave me a sense of hopelessness.
But that wasn’t all there was. Surrounding me were six doors, pure silver, and each with their own black and red reliefs cut into them. The one to my far left had a relief of the creature stringed up like a marionette puppet, with a five-fingered hand holding the cross, and the creature itself straining against them with so much might that its flesh was tearing open with blood spilling from the wounds. There was a look of desperation on its face, as if the rending of skin and muscle was a price it was willing to pay to get away.
The one after that had a relief of the creature being forced to carry a heavy iron cross upon its back, with a look of betrayal on its face.
The next one had a relief of the creature strapped painfully to a large archer’s target, with knives being hurled at it. Four were already imbedded in its flesh: one in its throat, one in the heart, one in the stomach, and one right in the right kneecap. Blood poured like waterfalls from the wounds, and tears of blood leaked from its eyes which were shut tightly as if it was the only defense from whoever was tormenting it.
The next door had a relief of the creature being chained to a hole in the floor while a collar bearing razor-sharp spikes on the inside was being affixed on its neck. Blood sprayed from the wounds like water from a showerhead, and the expression on its face was one of despair, as if it knew that it couldn’t get away no matter how hard it tried.
The next door had a relief of the creature staring at a broken, empty picture frame. There was only a look of disappointment on its face, as if the picture it once held no longer had any meaning.
And the final door was probably the worst in my opinion. It had a relief of the creature floating in the air, with an expression of pure hurt on its face, and a solid hole right where its heart was supposed to be located. And in that hole was a blood-red candle flame, poised to be snuffed out forever.
If I had a choice I would have opened that last door first. But the door itself was translucent. As were all of the others save for the first one. Maybe its mind was telling me that I needed to touch them in sequence to get the full picture.
So with no other options, I did just that, reaching a hoof out and placing it on the first door I saw. As soon as I touched the freezing surface, a vision made itself known: I felt sharp hooks in my flesh, as if I was a marionette and nothing more. The hooks were stringed up to a handle high above my head, and it was being held by a shadowy hand that seemed to take great pleasure in yanking me around, all the while I was incapable of screaming out in pain. A voice, distorted and faintly masculine then made itself heard.
“Son, don’t you know I’m doing this because I love you?”
LOVE? I screeched within the confines of my own mind, you don’t control the people you love! You guide them, you nurture them, but you don’t control them! You offer assistance when needed and you let them live free when it is not!
And with that the vison ended and I was back in front of the doors.
The next one had solidified, and with some hesitation, I put my hoof on it as well. And I was granted another vision: I found myself in what can only be described as a house of worship of some kind. On the surface it looked grand, but that was offset by the drab grey everything was covered in. Before I could inspect anything further, a crushing weight pinned me to the floor, rendering me incapable of movement. I then heard another voice, one that was equally distorted as the last, but had a slight female tone to it instead.
“Son, don’t you know the way you view the world is wrong? That there is only one true way for things to exist? Your open mind is not the right way, and I will never accept you as long as it remains like that.”
Fundamentalism, I growled deep and dark in my own mind, a truly demonic blight if there ever was one. Regardless of what form it takes or what ideology it latches onto. Being closed minded and oblivious causes far more damage than it can ever repair.
The vision then ended and I was free to move again unmolested.
I placed a shaking hoof on the next door, fearful of what it might hold. And like clockwork, I was given another vision: I felt myself strapped and restrained with the rough feeling of hemp rope on my back, and my eyes were closed so tightly that they physically hurt to the point where I felt blood leaking from the corners, flowing as freely as tears would for a newborn foal. Try as I might I couldn’t open my eyes, but when I felt the first cold sharp impact in my throat, I knew it was for the best if I wasn’t capable of doing so. There were multiple voices this time. All were as equally distorted as the last ones, and there was a mix of masculine, feminine, and even child tones. The first one I heard was the same one the dark hand possessed.
“Isn’t it obvious to you, son? I care and love my parents, brothers, and sisters far more than I will ever care for you. No matter how much I say to the contrary.”
Another impact, solid and directly into my heart so that whenever it beat I could feel the sharp edge cutting into the muscle of the organ. Another dark voice I heard, this one of a child.
“Did you think I would waste my time playing with you cousin? When all the fun I need was to simply hurt you to the point where you are driven to tears?”
Another impact, agony flaring across my stomach, sending my nerves haywire, and yet I was incapable of screaming for it to stop. My mouth was sealed shut by some invisible force, and my vocal chords were non-existent at the moment. I heard two voices this time, speaking in tandem, with one male and the other female.
“Why don’t you spend any time with your extended family? Don’t you love any of us? What a truly worthless grandchild you are!”
One last impact in my right kneecap, shattering it like brittle glass, and with the pain another voice rang out; cackling with cruel laughter before speaking with an arrogant tone.
“What are you so afraid of? You always hide yourself away in your shell never peeking out! I mean, we are your family after all. It’s not like we’re waiting for you to pop your head back out just so we can throw knives at it for our own amusement.”
FAMILY? I bellowed in rage within the cage of my own skull, family doesn’t hurt you! Family doesn’t force you to build a wall around yourself in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the emotional damage that they cause you! Family is there to help you, to make you laugh, and to give a shoulder for you to cry on when you need it the most!
The vision then ended, I felt no more pain from the wounds that were inflicted on me, and I was free to open my eyes once again. This was getting too intense. I-I needed to take a breather. I sat down hard for five minutes, trying to calm my breathing and getting it to return from the ragged rattling in my lungs and throat. While I was doing this, a thought stuck me from nowhere.
“Dear Faust,” I whispered to myself, “no matter what happens, please never let the Bearer of The Element of Honesty witness what I have just finished seeing. She would go slip into a catatonic state for sure.”
I needed to continue, no matter how bad things were getting. Getting back up, I quickly placed my hoof on the next door before I could change my mind. Like before, another vision: I was on my hind legs, while my forehooves were chained to the floor. I had no control over my body as I struggled and strained against the chains to the point where it felt as if the bones in my body would long shatter and grind to dust before I ever managed to break them. I watched, helpless as the same collar from the relief on the door lowered itself, aiming for my neck. Needle-sharp thick spines were crudely welded on its inside, but as it clasped itself around my neck, they more than did the job in inflicting pain. More than that; I couldn’t move my head or neck for fear of the shift in pressure causing it to snap my neck. The voices were back, one male and one female, and they spoke in tandem.
“Son, this collar is to keep you safe. You don’t have the intellect of an adult, and are nothing more than a child in the body of a man. We cannot, in good faith, allow a child out into a world that would tear you limb from limb if given the chance.”
Why? I snarled in my head, why would you have a child if you never had any intention of allowing them to roam free one day? Why would you ever think that chaining your child is the correct answer?
The vision faded and before I could stop myself, I slammed my hoof on the next door. The next vision was different to a degree, but it was one I could sympathize with: I found myself sitting down and staring at the same broken picture frame the relief depicted. I heard the voice then, the same male, distorted as ever.
“Son, how much a disappointment you have turned out to be. Your sister is far superior, she has accomplished more in the past year than you ever will your entire life. You are a speck, a nothing, not worthy of life and any of the joys it brings! I wish you were my second-born, at least then I would not have had you.”
Favoritism, I whispered in my mind with poorly concealed anger, only slightly less damaging and blinding than fundamentalism, and far more of a toxic poison if experience has taught me anything.
The vision ended, I found myself taking a moment to look around at the doors. The five I had touched were now as solid as the ground I stood on. Slowly turning my head, I looked at the sixth and final door. For the first time in a long time, dread wormed its way into my heart and mind. Every vision I had when I made contact with the other ones had contained so much hurt and hopelessness that it almost made my own imprisonment look like a blessing. Almost. And if those things I saw left me with an impression like that, I shudder to think of what awaits me beyond that door.
I-I-I don’t be here anymore! I thought, beginning to hyperventilate, I-I want to leave! I want to go back to my bed, I don’t-
I clamped my eyes shut, held my breath, and banished my panic away. I won’t deny it, I was frightened, but I refuse to leave before I saw the whole picture! After a minute, I had calmed down enough to open my eyes again, and I slowly, shakenly, brought my hoof up to an inch away from the last door.
I closed my eyes.
One breath.
Another breath.
And one last breath before I placed my hoof on that final door. Nothing happened for a moment. But then I had the sensation of falling forward slightly. As a natural reaction, I placed my hoof down on the ground before me. Wait…I did that of my own volition. This vision was different from the others if I could move about freely. Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the sight of an endless void around me, and directly ahead was the creature itself. Allowing myself to exercise some
restraint, I trotted up to it; and sure enough, there was a hole right where its heart should have been.
Peering into resulted in seeing the candle flame that was in the center. But…oh my. It was faint. And it was flickering violently as if it was a bird being crushed to death in the hands of a Minotaur. But those hands that were squeezing it were not made of flesh, they were made up of all the hurt, sadness, and hopelessness that I had been subjected too ever since I first tore my way into here. One last voice made itself known to me. And it was clear, not distorted, but it held no emotion and the tone was that of simple matter-of-fact.
“That last bit of light is always the hardest to snuff out.”
My heart missed a few beats when I heard that. And I felt as if a dragon had punched me in the gut.
“No,” I whispered in fear; not for myself but for the creature I saw before me, “please, whatever you do, don’t give in.”
And with that my vision ended and I was back in the center of the doors. But something was different. Instead of cracked, dead ground, I found myself standing on a solid metallic floor that formed a circle with the doors sitting on its edge. But there was no vision that awaited me this time. No, the only thing I felt from it was…
H-how? How could it? I don’t-I just- I thought in disbelief, T-this is far beyond my ability to deal with on my own; I need to get back to Tia, now!
And just as that thought ended, the dream world around me melted, signaling that the dreamer was waking up. Ejecting myself from the decaying dream, I wasted no time in spreading my wings, and making a beeline straight back to my body as fast as I could.
Whenever I dream walk during the day, there are certain things I can’t do, and certain senses are deadened. My sense of smell was one, and as the dreadful gale of the nightmarish storm started to fade, I was thankful for that. I knew what the blood rain felt like; I don’t want to know what it smelt like. The other thing was that when I was in an ethereal state like I am now, I could still feel things physically, but those sensations were separate from my actual body. Finally, emotions aren’t truly expressed in the same way as I would experience them when I was amongst the waking world. I could still feel them, but I was not capable of say, crying for example.
I idly noted that while the stem that the storm grew from was now gone, the storm itself still raged for three whole minutes before it finally dissipated. And the reservoir of blood below me started to burn off, red mist rising from the surface before dissipating into the breeze. It was still evaporating when I lost sight of it in the distance, and in short order, I soon found myself back in my chambers.
Its times like these that I’m thankful for the fact that I gain an ethereal body whenever I dream walk. If I was in my physical body, I’m pretty certain that I would have badly damaged my flight muscles in my haste to get back. The damage may have even been permanent.
Without wasting any time, I dove into my body and forced myself awake.
The first thing I became aware of was the sheer wetness I had my head against. The next thing I registered was the fact that I was curled up into a tight ball, and every muscle felt as if it was repurposed to provide a hardened exoskeleton against the outside world. With a wet squelch, I lifted my head up, uncurled the rest of me, and climbed out of my bed. I looked back at my bed and noted that the pillows would have to be replaced. I knew that what I had just experienced left an impression on me, but I didn’t expect for my pillows to look like the just came out of the wash without any time to dry. And it was all because of the tears I wept when I was inside that nightmare.
Snapping out of those thoughts, I turned and galloped my way out of my chambers, slamming the doors open in my haste, devoid of my regalia, and uncaring of my appearance. I didn’t have time for such things. Tearing through the hallways as fast as my legs could carry me, I arrived outside the throne room, and without any sort of ceremony, burst in like a crazed mare would.
Only to find that my sister wasn’t there. Looking around frantically, I noticed that the time on one of the clocks read twelve eleven. Three hours passed while I had been dream walking, and seeing as to how it was midday, Tia would be on her lunch break right now. Without missing a beat, I turned and sprinted full force toward the dining room. The doors were already open by the time I got there and I came to a screeching stop on the side of the table opposite to where my sister was sitting down. She was in mid-bite with a fork of something floating halfway between her and her plate. But once she saw me, she immediately lost focus and the fork was unceremoniously dropped, causing it to clatter against the table and for some of the food to mark her coat, which went unnoticed by her at the time.
I couldn’t blame her reaction, I probably looked like shit, and I didn’t feel much better. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath I addressed my most immediate family in the room, and while I prevented my voice from cracking, I could not disguise the upset tone that laced through it.
“Tia, we need to talk.”
In short order, and more than likely because Tia lost her appetite, the plates were cleared away and we were sitting next to each other as I began to recount the events that led me to get up in the middle of the day. A very rare occurrence if there ever was one.
Her expression changed over the course of the time that I told her of my experience. When I told her about the storm, it was shock and skepticism, when I told her about the creature; it turned to confusion and concern. When I told her about the dream I found myself in she looked like she just got sucker punched in the face, and when I told her about the visions I was granted when I touched the six doors, she had an expression of disbelief and looked visibly sickened, not that I could blame her.
“And finally,” I continued though watery eyes, “when I stood on that metallic floor, I learned several things. I learned that those visions were the personifications of the different pains it feels. And I learned that the creature was a hundred years of age, and in those hundred years, these night terrors have never stopped tormenting him. But the worst of all? It has accepted the hopelessness, it has accepted the hurt and the sadness, and it’s just another day to it.”
“H-how could it?” I asked as a few hot tears spilled from my eyes and my voice finally cracked painfully, “how could it believe that it will never know happiness or love? I-I just can’t understand it!”
And that was the last thing I said before I felt he downy wings of my sister enclose me in a hug. That was all it took to break the floodgates, and I wept anew. Not out of some sense of hopelessness, but out of just how scared I was for the wellbeing of that tormented soul still out in Whitetail Woods. Tia let me weep for as long as I needed to, and when I had calmed down enough, she asked me a question in that sweet, serene, motherly tone that so many of our subjects seem to take comfort in. I know I did, at that point in time.
“Lulu, do you think this creature poses any threat to our little ponies?”
I could understand why she asked that, none of us wanted to face another Sombra after all.
“No sister, the creature doesn’t have any violent tendencies towards anything it recognizes as sapient. In fact, it does everything in its power to avoid confrontation.”
It was a weird sensation, feeling Tia relax and yet at the same time tense up when she heard my answer. I knew she relaxed because she had confirmation that her subjects were safe. But I also knew that she tensed up due to an equal measure of lingering shock and determination to help this being.
“Lulu,” I heard her whisper, “aside from what you have told me, I don’t know what could have possibly happened in that soul’s life for it to now feel like this. But as long as it lives in Equestria, it’s one of my subjects, and I think that you know that we’ll do whatever we can to help bring it back to the light.”
“I know, Tia, I know.” I whispered back just as softly, my eyes now dry of any tears.
I just hope it’s not too late. I thought, or perhaps prayed, to myself.
My sleeping schedule must have been thrown out of wack due to the events that transpired last night. I usually try to go to sleep an hour before sunrise, and get up an hour after sunset. And the only reason this currently held any relevance as I lied here in one of my dwellings was because a beam of sunlight was piercing though the opening; and sticking the lower part of my left forearm.
Once I felt that, I quickly recoiled out of its way as if my flesh was being burned by an old-fashioned brand. It didn’t hurt. Not physically at least. No, the pain was different in nature. It was…spiritual for lack of a better term.
I never really liked the sun to begin with. It was too warm, and to bright. I prefer dimly lit places, they were always easier on the eyes, and the cold was familiar even if it did not provide any comfort.
But then again, nothing provides comfort for me anymore, and in all honesty, I’m not entirely sure if anything ever did. So I just laid there, not even bothering to cover the entrance to the cave with a blanket of moss I kept tucked away for when I had to disappear for a time.
My dwelling, the cave was about three times my size when I was standing fully upright. The outside cliff it was located in was absolutely covered in moss, so the aforementioned blanket of the stuff, when deployed, would disguise the entrance so toughly that if you weren’t me, you wouldn’t be any the wiser.
Opening my eyes, I just stared listlessly at one of the walls for a time, just continuing to think. Maybe think wasn’t the right word. After all, it’s difficult to think when you feel near dead in body, mind, and soul. Near-dead. Somehow that phrase describes what these past hundred years has felt like to me in my waking hours. And whenever I close my eyes, the dreams are even worse. Even if I can’t remember what they were about scene-for-scene. All I know about my night terrors was that every time I woke up, regardless of how, I always felt more tired than I was before I went to sleep.
So, in other words, it was just another average rest.
The illumination the sunlight provided by bouncing off of the moist walls dimmed suddenly. Turning my head and squinting my eyes, I looked to the entrance of the cave. There, casting a shadow upon the ground while it looked at me was a small, brown, rabbit.
Odd, the animals of the forest always avoided me and my dwellings. Not that I could really blame them. After all, my current body was one of an apex predator. Even if I would never actually harm any of the little furballs. Whenever I needed meat in my diet, I could always go down to the lake and get myself a catfish. They may taste like shit, but couldn’t care less.
Anyway, after it just stared at me for a few minutes, it turned and hopped off. I spent a minute or two looking at the entrance though squinted eyes before lethargically returning my head to its previous position. I took a deep, rattling breath and sighed. But I did not weep. My tears are reserved for the night, where none may bear witness to them and where they could not hear my sobs.
Fat lot of good that did me, I sighed dejectedly in my thoughts, the natives may be cute and toy-like, but that yellow one is probably gathering a witch-hunt at this moment.
If they expected me to fight them, they were going to be sorely disappointed.
When I submit to them after I’ve been backed into a comer without bothering to fight, I asked myself, will they burn me at the stake or stone me to death?
Well, it’s not like I had anything better to do to wait for nightfall. Maybe, just maybe death would come for me before then.
But, then again, he seemed to take joy in delaying my application.