11994/Dream a Little Dream for Me

Dream a Little Dream for Me
Date of Scene:	13 July 2022
Location:	The Dreaming
Synopsis:	Raven's plan to free Vorpal from forever dreaming Wonderland takes her and Donna to the heart of all dreams, but there are other interested parties to consider.
Cast of Characters:	Donna Troy, Rachel Roth, Caitlin Fairchild

---

Donna Troy has posed:
    Wonderland is a realm, but it is also a dream. A dream of adventures underground, of whimsy and fantasy. Of hookah smoking caterpillars, of wondrous forests and insane tea parties, of frivolity and illogic, of cabbages and kings.

    It is also a dream of trauma repressed. The dream of a dreamer who could not, would not deal with the death of his daughter. A dream upset by the intervention of another young girl, who reminded the dreamer too much of his lost daughter, whose curiosity challenged the illogical armor the dreamer had woven for himself.

    But it is the Red King's dream no more. The aged sorcerer, equipped with the powerful artefacts of chaos magic known as the Red King's Crown and Scepter, had dreamed himself a realm to hide away in, but now at last he has awoken, and he has been able to come to terms with his loss. He does not need the dream any more, so he does not dream it.

    But there are those who do need the dream: those who live within it. Three of those chose to become the new dreamers of Wonderland, to take the place of the Red King and maintain the dream for the sake of all who live within it. Caterpillar, Hatter and Cheshire cat.

    And therein lies the problem, as far as Donna and Raven are concerned. Wonderland is saved, but the price those three chose to pay to save it is not a price Donna and Raven, or any of the other Titans indeed, are happy with. Because the cat is /their/ cat. There has to be another way.

    Sometimes you don't involve everyone. You try something strange that might just work, but you don't want to raise any hopes. The idea is obvious enough, if you have the knowledge. There is after all another, far /greater/ realm of dream than Wonderland, and that Dream has a king.

    That king of dreams has done a favor for Donna and Rae before, allowing them to meet within his realm when they were separated by distances that cannot be measured in light-years. Perhaps now they can offer something to him, and save the cat by doing so.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Wonderland is dying.

    That is the most she has been told aside from the nature of it. They retrieved the artifacts, did as they would with the Jabberwock, and have now awoken a dreamer responsible for maintaining the existence of Wonderland- and worse, left Terry to be that dreamer all by himself.

    At the moment of its inception, Raven has had trouble with this result. Has she objected, or thrown tantrum at his heroic sacrifice? No, more, she has understood the foolishness of it. How dare the cat believe that he would be left as the new red king? How simple minded must he be to really think that that'd be the end of it?

    Oh no, Raven has been upset this whole time because she must now push the boundaries of what is allowed by a thing like Raven, and it is an actual, whole, three times that she has done this.

    So it is, that Raven has been pooling together might and magic, weaving together the words and wills of Gods. Some of this, with intent to transport- because where they go, most dare not, can not tread: more importantly, she does this to obscure.

    There is a whole-ass spirit in a golden gods-blessed helmet that would have a huge problem with Raven invading the dreaming with her powers once, let alone done so again.

    The ritual itself is as magical as one would hope- involving nigh-endless incantations, several tomes Donna knows must be written by hands older than even Themyscira has true record of. What is odd, is that Raven has detailed little of this to her lover, and so exactly /why/ Raven is performing the ritual in a room absolutely bedecked in pillows. It is only when the ritual ends with their shared room being beset by a flurry of Raven's own shadow and what must definitely be, a mass of sand.

    When Donna comes to consciousness within an unfamiliar realm, there is the calming presence of Raven, eating her confusion, and explaining herself now:

    "We have entered the realm of the Lord of Dreams, to make our bargain."

    Floating there in front of Donna as if she had arrived first, the woman who currently seems more akin to a sentient cloak and hood in these past few days since Troia's reappearance, does her best to sound comforting. Why exactly she's allowed to have her wits about her when it might be quite disconcerting to suddenly exist- maybe, really, suddenly /maybe/ exist- within Dream's realm is some matter of unfairness.

    The truth is that Donna is dreaming- and Raven, having borne them here, Raven is not.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Travelling through the Dreaming is not forbidden, but it is something rare. Donna's dream-self is nearly incadescent, so much of her waking consciousness being brought along by Raven's spell.

Raven stands out like a beacon because she is *actually* in the Dreaming, the raw matter of reality itself, rarer and more valuable than any other resource in that strange realm. The two attract no small amount of attention as they make best speed for the Castle that can be seen from every corner of the Dreaming and most of the Astral besides.

At the entrance to the Castle, there are three statues. As Donna and Rachel approach, the statues start moving as if waking up from a slow sleep. There seems to be a little discussion between them, and as the women arrive the griffen seems to sigh in resignation and turn to face the two women. He nods his head in a respectful manner as they approach the stairs. "Greetings, children of Adam. I am The Griffin. You have arrived to the Castle of the Lord of the Dreaming."

A beat passes. "... aaaaand...." the wyvern calls down from his perch. The griffin sighs again and its eyes shut as if looking for patience. "And I would ask you what business you have with the Lord of the Dreaming."

"See, I told you he'd get it," the hippogriff says to the wyvern. The wyvern spurts smoke from its nostrils and chuffs at the hippogriff. "Took him long enough. It's been years, you'd think he would have this sorted out."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here! It's hard to remember all the stuff!" the griffin barks up at the wyvern.

The hippogriff chortles at the Griffin. "Didn't you say you were brave *and* clever? You're the newest, you're the one who needs to learn the rituals."

"Which aren't written anywhere!" the griffin protests.

The wyveren blinks down at the griffin. "Wait, you can read?"

The hippogriff gives the wyvern a quizzical look. "You can't?"

The guardians seem to have momentarily forgotten about Rachel and Donna.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Greetings, noble guardians!" Donna calls out, bowing her head respectfully in reply to the Griffin's own nod. No, Donna's not going to assume they have actually been forgotten and can just wander in. Normally she might defer to Raven on matters such as this, but these three are mythical creatures; wyvern, griffin and hippogriff, exemplars of species Donna is familiar with, those these are larger than the ones she has encountered on Themyscira.

    "I am Troia of New Kronos and Themyscira," Donna calls out, stepping forwards. "My companion is Raven of Azerath. We seek an audience with Lord Oneiros, to bring him news of a matter that concerns him. A question of demarcation has arisen in a realm beyond this one. It is our belief that your master will wish to hear our news and consider his own interests in the matter. Will you convey to him our request for that audience?"

    She steps back patiently, to stand next to Raven again. "Just a thought, but... would you be able to summon up a large slab of honeycomb?" she whispers to Raven. "Hopefully not necessary, but there's a trick you can do with griffins and hippogriffs. I'm not sure it will... scale up. Who knows if these guys count or not."

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven approaches with Troia, and as the three guardians begin to bicker and converse about one another, to have forgotten that they were approached by visitors, Raven considers just ushering Donna along. Sometimes, that is for the best: The Dreaming is a mercurial place, and can be considered confusing at best.

    Alas, Troia announces their presence, and thus they must stand on ceremony. Raven's head turns to Troia as she is asked to summon honeycomb, and there is this soft raise of her brow. "It's possible, but it should just be a matter of... Discussing the matters that we have that require His attention."

    Raven then floats forward, calling to the guardians. "We come to bring news of one of man's oldest dreams, a realm that has lost its dreamer, and now lives on in another. We believe that this matter has likely not escaped the gaze of the Lord of the Dreaming, but have... An offer, to make."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"A godling," the hippogriph chortles. "And Trigon's lost daughter. You wish to petition the Lord of the Dreaming?" He looks over at the wyvern, which looks back at the hippogryph and shrugs once.

"There's no prohibition against it," the wyvern says. "But I will ask."

A quiet, pensive ten seconds pass, and the wyvern shifts and looks back at the two women. "You are permitted to past. A light will guide you to the Lord. Do not stray from the path, lest you become lost in the Keep."

The doors open, upon no visible signal and guided by no visible hands. They swing full open and stop with a hollow *boom* that echoes down a seemingly-infinite hallway. As promised, a spark of light manifests as Rachel and Donna cross the threshold, and it bobs eagerly along at the best walking pace the two can comfortably manage. At some point they take a few turns, go through a dark doorway--

--and enter into a peaceful planted garden. Topiary are set in careful intervals by someone with a keen eye for decor. There are many statues on pedastles, some so new they look like living beings; others old and crumbling, indistinct features melted by time and erosion. The light brings Rachel and Donna to the center of the garden where a young man in a plain t-shirt and close-fitting black jeans is working on a new sculpture. It's not quite finished, but there is a disturbing dimension to it that's difficult to articulate in a word.

He turns to face the two women when they arrived, transferring the chisel and hammer to his left hand. A palm is placed on his chest and Dream, master of The Dreaming, greets them with a small nod of welcome. When his eyes lift, they make the most striking contrast against his white skin and white hair; they are infinitely deep, glimmering with the lights of a million galaxies deep in space.

"Be welcome, ladies." His voice is low and soothing, somehow youthful but retaining the baritone authority of a much more ancient person. Troia of Themyscira and New Kronos; Rachel Roth, the lost daughter of Trigon. You are welcome here as my guests while you submit your petition. What is it you come seeking?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna frowns a little at the 'godling' comment, but says nothing; she brought it up, after all. Sometimes it's good to be able to represent yourself as being other than just some random mortal, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. Donna would be quite content to be a random mortal, but you don't wander into the realms of the Endless without playing from your full hand when you think you need to.

    The palace is of course a fascination, but neither visitor is a fool when it comes to these things, and while Donna can be impetuous, she knows there are times when it's best not to be. They follow the light without allowing more than their curious gazes to explore anywhere the will-o-the-wisp light does not go, and soon enough they are in the presence of...

    "Lord Oneiros," Donna says with another respectful bow of greeting. This is not the the Dream to whom that name was originally applied, but Donna is much to /Greek/ to use any other. And nor is it really wrong; that Oneiros is more title than name, and that the figure before them is more personification that god, these are things the Greeks understood.

    "It is not so much seeking as sharing," she says. "We have recently been involved in a matter that we believe is part of your domain, and think it only proper we bring what has come to pass to your attention, even though you must be aware. There is a realm, close to your own in many ways. A realm of dream called Wonderland. The sorcerer who for the last few centuries has dreamt that dream has awoken. Three of the denizens of that realm have stepped in to dream the dream in his place."

    "It has occurred to us that this is perhaps not the proper solution for Wonderland. That perhaps you might feel it is time the dream that is Wonderland return to the fold. We will not however pretend that bringing this concept to your attention is entirely selfless; one of those who has chosen to dream this dream is a friend of ours. We respect his sacrifice, but it would suit us to have him return to the waking world. We wondered if perhaps there was another way."

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Tipping one's hand is sometimes the best way to get entry into clubs, or the ethereal castles of one of seven impossibly powerful beings that by some definitions are greater than gods in their own right.

    To be called the Lost Daughter of Trigon is not entirely wrong. Right now, even the guardians may not know it to be a ceremonial title at best.

    "Dream, of the Endless." Raven begins, asserting herself alongside Donna. She waits for her to finish before the sorceress comes at this from a different angle. One that she knows Donna would not have approved of: Because it is more impetuous than even Troia would normally be, more impetuous than Raven has ever been, and it is almost downright disrespectful.

    "She is right. One of our friends has taken one third the mantle of a sorcerer whose dream consists of the realm of Wonderland. We are self-serving by coming here, and we are disrespecting his sacrifice by asking you to consider this option, but I would propose one matter of knowledge."

    This is a gambit. This is the disrespect, and based on the tiniest, almost imperceptible lilt of Raven's tone, the only person, the only /being/ in the universe that could perhaps read it being Troia, the Amazon knows /something/ is about to happen.

    "That knowledge is that Wonderland was /always/ yours in the first place. We are here to beseech you to stop pretending that it is not, so that our friend may return to where he belongs."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Dream stares at Raven for a pointed few moments. Not long. Not enough to be provocative, not enough to infer some challenge. But there is no doubt that he is aware of Rachel's insoucience, and is choosing to overlook it.

"Wonderland is mine in the sense that the Dreaming is mine," he clarifies, and turns to set his tools down. "It *is* my responsibility. I have obligations for both dreamers and the dreams they build here."

Dream moves to a fountain to wash his hands. The burbling liquid looks like mercury or silver; it glitters with reflections of unseen lights, and tiny fish dance up the waterfalls pouring down from the top level.

"But I am aware of what it is, and the state of it. The walls built around Wonderland contain it, like an infection would be contained. The dream will persist as long as the Dreamers will it to exist. And for as long as I deem it more value than liability." He rests his hips against a low bench, palms resting on the wood with his elbows locked out. There seems to be no malice or threat; it's just a statement of fact. "But in time, like all things, it will die. No story is told forever. No dream will persist the whole of the human race. For what reason should I make an exception?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna's the more diplomatic one; she doesn't approve of Raven's gambit this early on in negotiations, but on the other hand she's hardly going to argue the point right here and now. No, once the gambit is played, the best thing to do is continue playing it. There are perhaps more diplomatic ways to play it.

    "Because it is an exceptional dream," Donna answers promptly. "There are stories that grow far beyond the original teller. There are few that have the potency to do so that Wonderland has. Once upon a time, Wonderland was just one more dream, if a dream of unusual power. But a hundred and fifty years ago it was visited by another dreamer, who brought her experience of that dream back to the waking world. And her memories of the dream were told to a writer, who wrote down that dream, so that it would not fade from the mind of mortals, the way a dream should do when they awaken."

    "If the dream of Wonderland is contained, Lord Oneiros, then why is it that it has spread so far? In the century and a half since it was written down, that book has never been out of print. It has inspired millions and will continue to inspire millions more. It has become a part of the currency of new writers and artists ever since. It inspires creativity. It engenders new stories every day. It is the birth of a new language of myth, and around the world story tellers tell stories they never would have told had it not been there to inspire them. It has infected the dreams of humankind to an extraordinary degree."

    "And now humankind starts its journey to the stars. Where do you think it will go from here? Is there any reason to believe that it will not capture the imaginations of trillions of dreamers from other worlds, just as it has captured the imaginations of billions of humans? It is a dream that will outlast the human race, Lord of Dreams. That will engender new stories for a million years. Would you really leave it in the hands of a madman, an imaginary caterpillar, and a cat with a taste for too much glitter?"

Rachel Roth has posed:
    "You are making no exception." Raven states, moving then to pace somewhat. She allows Donna to speak, but sheathed within her cloak, Raven is an imposing, regal figure. If this were the hall of any other being, it might even be enough that she were here as she is to get Dream to listen. Instead, they have to rely on diplomacy- they have to urge a being of inaction to action.

    They have to ask Dream to make something that is ephemeral and fleeting as his realm is, as all that he encompasses is, more stable, and permanent. The two of them are asking Dream to defy the very nature of the Dreaming, so that they can have their cake and eat it, too. It is impetuous, it is selfish, and it is prideful, and somewhere out in the depths of nothingness where He was banished, this act of pride makes a horrid thing grin.

    "I remember a dream I had once. It was a funeral. I do not know who it was for, I remember a lot of people were there, but I do not remember any of who they were. I think of it sometimes, that it was /everyone/. That /everyone/ was at that funeral, and that is why I cannot remember. I do not know why I mention it, except that I thought of it then, and think of it now, as Kind."

    She turns, to fully face the Endless.

    "It does not matter who it is left to, that dream will extend beyond this day and the next, and eventually it will die, as all things do. We are not asking you to make it something that nothing can be- Endless. We are asking you to be /kind./" There is a pause, then. "Have you never had an inclination to be kind for the sake of being so?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I would leave Wonderland where it is," Dream tells the two women. "Adults dream of things that they fear, things that bore them. Children dream of other worlds. Of adventures and strange characters. They know so little of how your world is that they can dream it to be whatever they can imagine it *could* be. A dream touched by a child, no matter how much or little, is more than just an imagining. It is Belief. It is Hope."

A hand waves over the fountain, and the silver liquid turns to tumbling dust. A curl of a fingertip and a little relief of Wonderland rises from the sand grains. The detail is so exquisite that individuals like the Caterpillar are clearly distinguishable. "An adult had a child's dream. When a child found that dream, it became more than mere delusions. It became an awareness in its own right." He looks up at the two women. "The damage Wonderland has done is a fraction of what could have been. Dreamers, kidnapped there. Stories trapped, either to be stolen or destroyed. It rides the razor's balance between use and hazard."

"The prudent course of action would be to tear it down. Let the Dreaming have those stories back. In time they will return to the subconscious of mortals. Else, much is predicated on a slim hope that a few uncertain voices can keep this dream alive. To nurture and feed it without letting the cancer spread."

He turns those fathomless black eyes back to Rachel and Donna. "I tell you this because were I to preserve Wonderland as it is, the only reason I would do so would *be* kindness."

A beat passes, and one hand lifts minutely and falls. "I am not beyond kindness but there is always a cost involved when even the Dreamlord works against the rules of the realm. I am beholden here as here is beholden to me. There are..." his eyes seem to flicker sideways, towards some unseen observer. "Other factors as well. Interested parties. I must entertain their petitions as dutifully as I would yours. What do you offer the Dreaming for me to perform this kindness for you?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Nothing," Donna replies. It's her turn to try a gambit, apparently. If it all goes wrong she'll blame Raven later -- she started the hardballing routine after all. "We offer the dreaming nothing for this, because we are not asking anything of you for ourselves."

    She glances briefly at Raven, but she's doing the inscrutable thing she sometimes manages to do fairly well, when she's in the right mood and when she's not being too /passionate/ about something. She shifts her stance slightly, her eyes roaming across the garden of statues. "We offer you nothing in exchange for this, because we have already given something without asking anything in return, and we come here only to give you something regardless of your decision: our perspective."

    "Wonderland has already spilled beyond its bounds. In the city where we live, for several months dream became reality. Wonderland borders your realm, but it borders other realms too. It borders the waking realm, and because it is a dream that has spread its roots so deeply into the culture of Earth, it is a point where the walls between realms are dangerously thin. And it borders other realms too. I hazard a guess that one of these other 'interested parties' you mention might rule in the Fae realms."

    Her eyes leave the statues and return to the Lord of the Dreaming. "Yes. Too much is predicated on a few uncertain voices to maintain a dream that has already spread. Our intervention stopped it this time, healed the breach that allowed it to infect the waking world. I do not hazard a guess what the greater consequences would have been if it had been allowed to continue to spread into the waking world, but I suspect the inconvenience of a few million souls in Metropolis being troubled by dreams in their waking lives is just the tip of the iceberg."

    "Are there any among those other interested parties, Lord Oneiros, who could be trusted to maintain such a potent dream the right way? I suggest there is none more qualified than you. But why then preserve it?"

    She spreads her hands. "Because it is a dream of great potency and great influence, Lord of Dreams. It would be a kindness to the inhabitants of the dream, but then they are surely your people. And it would be a kindness to all who dream, because it is a beloved dream. "

    "Perhaps from your perspective, from a view that considers all of time, that one dream is much like another. But look at the Earth. Look at what humankind has /done/ with that dream. A child's storybook, but so much more. Look at the influence it has had. The books, the films, the art that it has inspired and shaped. The storytellers who have learned new kinds of stories because of it. It strikes a chord in the mortal psyche like almost nothing else. It would be prudent not to allow that potential to be loose. But would it be prudent to undo it, when its weight has already shaped so much around it?"

    "Bring them home, Lord Oneiros. Revel in the richness of this wonderful, beautiful, inspiring, terrifying dream - and make it and the beings who people it a part of your realm, where they belong. Do not let it grow wild and dangerous, but neither deprive mortalkind of the shape of its stories."

Rachel Roth has posed:
    There is a lingering gaze towards Donna as the other woman takes up the gambit. So imperceptible is her approval that only her partner could notice it, and yet it is there. That they have nothing to offer Dream, Raven feels, is the right approach.

    Nothing /material./

    "We have no riches to try and tempt you with, no great realms of our own that we can trade. We also have not the hubris to pretend that you would care even if we did. There are many that will petition, and those many will be so foolish as to demand that Wonderland be given to them for nothing, either by offering you something they do not know to you is nothing, or by threatening to take what they wish."

    Raven takes a step towards the sand that has become Wonderland for a moment, looking into it for a moment. Her eyes do not blink, and in this moment she appears as inhuman as she truly is.

    "You know of the three that dream now to keep Wonderland alive. Two of them are known to every child that dreams. Wonderland's story is told in many ways, in many cultures, and all dream of it in fleeting moments. One that dreams there does not belong solely in Wonderland. You talk about the dreams of children, of those precious things, those unspoiled things, those hopeful things."

    Raven looks up now, her unblinking eyes staring into the pools of nothing that make up Dream's. Her expression is neutral, yet she is pleading for a mote of understanding of the mortal world beyond the dream.

    "One of those that dreams there now inspires hope. He is a hero. He doesn't think of himself that way. Maybe, he never will. Maybe that is for the best. But, that is what he is. If he lies dreaming there for the rest of time, all of that potential, it is lost. The dreams of the hopeless who are given hope by the actions of people like him- lost men and women, children looking to the stars... There are so many symbols we use to give hope. To turn back the tide of corruption that growing out of adolescence and into hopelessness can bring."

    Raven's cloak parts, and her hand outstretched, conjures small illusions, of the symbols that make hope. A circular shield baring a single star. It morphs into a tiara, bearing a similar star in red at its crest. It twists then into the shape of a lantern in emerald, which fades into a pentagonal shield: at its center a red S on a yellow background, which then swirls into a bat, shrouded in darkness, illuminated by just the faintest light, that grows blinding until there is a final symbol- a great, wide grin, the teeth jagged, but the smile impossible not to recognize.

    "We offer you nothing, but potential. The potential for hopeful dreams, created by this land, and the freedom of its dreamer."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
The faintest of smiles tugs at the corner of Dream's mouth. It's the first expression they've seen upon his face thus far, and it vanishes in an eyeblink. "So... we have it, then. An understanding. It is not enough for me to return Wonderland to the Dreaming. You wish me to ensure that it lives in its current state. Where it has grown so far beyond the original story that it is barely recognizeable."

He picks up a small chisel and hammer and moves back to his sculpture. It looks like it is screaming in pain, though moving too slowly to be visually tracked.

"On your Earth, there was a story that was told by those who settled the ancient plains of a land that no longer exists. It predates your written history. Even predates Atlantis. At the time they were just a few thousand people, but they were the largest and mightiest civilization in your world. Theirs was a story about a city of glass. A place where something forbidden happened, where love was placed above all other concerns-- and for that love, the city was destroyed."

The hammer and chisel *tink* steadily while Dream speaks. "The story is so old only a few of the truly ancient tribes still know it. The ones who have passesd down their traditions from one to another for tens of thousands of years. It was once the most powerful story your people had. Now no one remembers it outside a few isolated huts on the edge of civilization."

Dream reaches up and touches the statue's face, and with his bare fingertips makes adjustment to the stone like a potter tweaking clay into the desired shape. "My latest creation," Dream tells the two women apropos of nothing, and gestures at the statue. "Just as mortals send dreams to me, I sometimes send dreams to mortals. This will be the Screaming Whisper. All the times you screamed in your sleep and your voice could not carry. You live in a world where you can always communicate, always be heard by anyone you wish. This one I will send out into your dreams, to remind you of the gripping terror of your worst nightmare. Because the deepest mortal fear is to be truly alone." This last is said with a pointed look towards Rachel.

"I will consider your request," Daniel tells the women. "You have made an impassioned plea. I respect the effort you took in coming here. But I will not promise to do it for free," he advises them. "I am as much bookeeper as overlord. I must maintain a balance. Filling a pond with water requires dipping in the river. I will not risk my realm for your dream, no matter how important or heroic was the sacrifice for while your friend volunteered."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "I have had my own experience of how powerful a dream of being alone can be, Lord of Dreams," Donna says. "And an illustration of what can happen when dreams interact in unpredictable and uncontrolled ways. For five years I have been troubled by a guilt-dream, in which I am alone. It was a dream that faded, as dreams should, when I woke up."

    She stares fixedly at the statue of the Screaming Whisper. "Until a couple of months ago, that is. Because it was a dream that resonated with something deep inside me that I was unaware of. And because a small part of the dream that is Wonderland reached out and touched me. And that interaction re-wrote a little corner of reality for a brief while. I ceased to be who I am, and became who I might have been, and learned that it is not just a fear of mortals, being alone. All because of that dream."

    "And because of the Crown and Scepter of the Red King. I do not know how articles of such power came to be, or came to be in the hands of the Red King. But I recognize the power in them. Our friend uses that power now to maintain Wonderland. I think that is a... fortunate use of that power. But it may not be a necessary one, if Wonderland had another way to sustain it. And then, what of the Crown and Scepter? Into what hands would they fall?"

    "Perhaps Wonderland comes with its own price paid, Lord of Dreams. Perhaps it can fill its own pond and feed into your own rivers."

    Donna gives a deep, respectful nod of her head. "I thank you for listening to us, Lord Oneiros, we can ask for no more. All we can wish is that you consider what we suggest, and do what you deem right."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Dream nods politely at Donna and Rachel. "Go at ease, children," he bids them, in a tone that is somehow gently paternal. "No harm will befall you between here and the waking world."

Once the two of them leave, Dream sets aside his tools and heads towards a door that wasn't there a minute ago. Ten steps carries him into the throne room; ten more to the alcove wherein hang a number of pictures. One is on the floor, covered with a painter's dropcloth.

He stands in front of a picture filled with clashing, aimless blotches of abstract color and motion.

"Hear me sister," he murmurs, and puts his fingertips to the picture frame. "I stand in my gallery and I invoke my name. Will you please join me here? There is something we must discuss."

Donna Troy has posed:
    As Raven and Donna leave Dream's Garden, Donna recites. Words left in the air; not addressed to anyone, but spoken as if to herself, leaving behind them a final, closing thought.

    "In a Wonderland they lie,
    Dreaming as the days go by,
    Dreaming as the summers die.
    Ever drifting down the stream
    Lingering in the golden gleam
    Life: what is it, but a dream?"

    And they are gone, leaving Dream of the Endless to his statues and his thoughts, his dreams to plan, his decisions to make.

    And his family.

    Soft, gentle, but with a curious, quavering cadence that dances like a butterfly through the air, a disembodied voice responds to Dream's call. "YOur. . . GalLerY THING. YES, I REMEMBER. I have ONE Of Those tOo, But i doN'T REcaLL WHEre I left IT. YES Brother, i SUPpoSE WE Should tALK."

    The air of the garden echoes with a faint sigh.