"That was an interesting story, indeed," the crowned silver serpent spoke. "Your dreams of the present have been the most interesting Umar of Sadina."
"Quite," the bronze mannequin mused with a dull yet ringing voice. "Especially those dreams of the future. There's nothing more important than a dream, a wish to uphold."
The three figures nodded in unison. A crowned silver serpent, a masked bronze mannequin, and a cloth doll with a long-brimmed hat. Dreamers, they called themselves.
Umar wasn't sure how this happened, but after crossing the red light, he awoke in this place. A realm similar to the world of ideas but with a different nuance. One could say it was the world of dreams.
If one peeked at the horizon, reality started to unfurl and lose meaning. Trees growing from clouds, lands of flesh, and eyes of truth with perhaps a hint of gold. A truly cyclopean land of imagination. It was a curious place to describe, especially because he couldn't trust his senses at all. Colossal cities, minute realms of even smaller beings, cradles of starfire, settings of flowing metal and glass, flying humanoid beings and horned aberrations… Everything simply was.
These figures had been here when he woke up, and even if he wasn't hearing the Greater Understanding as such, he instantly understood that these were beings of power. True forces of nature and not imitations.
"Share with us your dreams of past, present, and future, and we will grant you your wish." They had said in a perfect cacophony after he had woken up.
The crowned silver serpent wanted to know about his present, and what he had done recently, so Umar explained the events that had led him to this world of dreams. Truth be told, he still didn't know if he was still conscious or if this was some sort of pre-death delirium. Maybe he was high too, wouldn't be the first time.
It didn't help that time here seemed to be a… suggestion.
"Now it's my turn. Tell me about your dreams of the future, your expectations, your wishes." The bronze mannequin, a figure with many articulations but that moved rigidly and in straight lines, inquired about his future. His dreams of the future, as they had put it. The Dreamer wanted to know what he wanted, and the answer had been easy.
"I want to live," Umar answered.
"Mmm," the metal sculpture moved from side to side in perfect repeating motions. "That's not quite right. Your heart is not in the right place, though it's not as if I would know." The Dreamer opened their chest to reveal nothing inside, no different from an empty suit of plate armor. "Dreams are bold, but that dream is not bold, Shadow's shadow. You can be so much more. You are so much more. What is the true form of your desire?"
He hadn't spent much time in this place, perhaps an hour retelling all the events since his death, but the Dreamers seemed to be familiar with him. And at the same time, he – somehow – felt familiar with them.
"Are you my dreams?" He asked.
"You are not the one who asks questions here," the cloth doll interjected as they rotated their hat like a spinning top.
"Indeed, he does not," the silver serpent nodded. Its eyes and tail swayed from place to place, but its crown stayed constant in one spot, like the head of a chicken. "But we do talk, and words carry meanings."
"We are beyond time, we are beyond perception," the bronze mannequin added.
"We are no one's creation. Not of our own, nor of others," the silver serpent continued.
The cloth doll sighed, and its hat brim collapsed, almost covering its whole body. "We were, we are, and we will continue to be until the last sleep is dreamt and the last desire forgotten."
"We are the Dreamers," they said now at the same time.
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"Yes, you've already said that." Umar held a grunt but couldn't help to ask himself one thing. Have they? Had they truly said this already or was it the first time they had mentioned it? "But what does that mean? Do you really need to speak in riddles?"
"Yes!" The serpent responded with a giggle as they hid their mouth with their tail. "Where's the fun if we don't do that?"
The grunt escaped Umar's lips as it was no longer sustainable. He appreciated the Dreamers' acknowledgment of his existence as it allowed him to continue existing, especially as he was still but a misty cognitive being. A Shadow's shadow like the mannequin had well stated.
"I am the dream of the what will be and what is wanted," the bronze mannequin said. "You may call me the Dreamer of the Future, and I still have to listen to your wish."
"I said I want to live," Umar responded again with a hint of grumpiness.
"That is not my jurisdiction," the Dreamer of the Future pointed at the crowned serpent with its masked face devoid of eyes.
"I am the dream of the what it is and what is needed," the silver serpent merrily stated. "You may call me the Dreamer of the Present, and you have told me your dream and your story. You want to live, and that is what you need, not what is wanted."
"So you are saying that there's something else?" The assassin scoffed.
The whole situation was ridiculous. He was talking with inanimate objects, even the serpent seemed more like a silversmith's trinket rather than an actual serpent. He tried not to focus on the background as the delusional state of this world was too imaginative to conceive as a static image. It flowed like wind more than water, if that made sense. Which he doubted it did. Indescribable, but comprehensible. Not a true paradox, just a conundrum. It had a beginning and an end, everyone had just forgotten where those were.
"You are well aware of your dream, but you are just not ready to speak of it just yet, and that is fine." The Dreamer of the Future said with its echoing voice, not fully metallic. "This only means that you need more time to internalize your greed. People don't like to know themselves, but they must confront it. A desire is only ugly when confronted with reality, after all."
Umar didn't know why, but the mannequin's words cut him deep.
"Let us make time for now, there's another that would like to hear your story." The mannequin turned its mask to face the doll, only rotating the trinket even if the body stayed in place.
"I am the dream of the what had been and what is remembered," the cloth doll echoed with its human-like voice, almost motherly if it weren't for its androgynous tone. "You may call me the Dreamer of the Past, and I already know your truth as we do all, but we want to hear it, nonetheless. Share the story of what brought you here, and you will have my favor."
Perhaps it was because of his advanced age or his dead status, but Umar could feel his very being resonated with the Dreamer of the Past. Indeed, he knew what he had to say to get the figure's favor, but rather than the answer, what mattered was the question. Should he?
"What I've shared about my present was something I don't consider a secret, but my past very much is, why should I tell that to you all?"
"For your dream," the cloth doll with the big-brimmed hat replied.
"For your reassurance," the masked bronze mannequin added.
"For yourself," the crowned silver serpent finalized.
All the reasons resonated with him. The doll convinced a younger self that wanted to pursue his goals and wishes no matter what. The mannequin convinced an older self that wanted to justify the path he had taken as he looked backward. The serpent convinced himself, not an older or younger self, but who he was. There was nothing wrong with living for oneself, as arrogant as it may seem.
Why am I doubting this much? Umar asked himself. Whatever these creatures are, they hold power. Real power. Or at least enough to make me live again. So why am I doubting? Why am I struggling to say the words? He knew the answer to that question, but as the Dreamer of the Future had said, it was hard to confront oneself. That mannequin was truly a visionary, that was perhaps why he held the title of the future.
The truth, the reason why he was so averse to speaking was because… he didn't remember. His actions, much like the drugs he had consumed during his whole life, had consequences. It wasn't like he had lost his memory, but between making his sacrifices to reach this far and almost being swallowed by oblivion several times had taken its toll. They were small holes, but holes, nonetheless.
Those trivialities made him doubt. What if these holes were the ultimate separation? He already knew he wasn't Umar, but this was the last straw. He had lost parts of the remaining Umar, even if they weren't many. What made him himself any longer?
Who was he?
Umar could have done many things, but he chose to grunt and scratch the back of his head. Somehow, the fat and the hair he had sacrificed were back, but the same couldn't be said for his right eye. Only a socket remained of that organ.
"You want to hear about my past? Of how things got to this point?" The cloth doll nodded, almost dropping its hat in the process. "Alright, let this dead man tell you his tale, the story of a young man born from parents with substance problems and how he willed himself to eat the world regardless of his upbringing. Let's go back to the capital of Ydaz, Asina, fifty years in the past…"