[ WP ] A dreamweaver is heartbroken and decides to curse the world with nightmares . Only one man can stop her .

Phoebe and her brother Roy played together often. They explored the intricate tunnels and caves in their back yard, and played among the willows and whippoorwills along the nearby stream. Phoebe always led their little adventures. She would dash down the river bank and leap onto the rocks, while Roy never braved the current. Phoebe would climb the tallest trees while Roy lingered on the lower branches careful never to over-reach his grasp. 
 
 Then they grew old enough to inherit the family business. Roy being the elder received the bulk of the work. He would leave early in the evening and set to his chores, while Phoebe stayed home and stewed in her jealousy. Every morning, when Roy returned from a busy night's labor Phoebe would be there on the porch, waiting. She would ask him about his travels. On the first night she asked, `` What are the mortals like? What do they dream of?'' 
 
 `` They dream of the past, and future as they wish it to be. They are a selfish people, and generally only dream about themselves or those closest to their hearts.'' 
 
 Phoebe thought on this all through the next day. She wondered if the gods were all that different than the mortals. Her mother, Patricia, for example seemed closed off and insular to the rest of the pantheon. Phoebe thought her father, Harry was much the same, always so dark and brooding. The next morning she asked her brother, `` Why do n't you make the mortals dream of other things, things that are not in their immediate interest?'' 
 
 `` To what end?'' Asked Roy, stifling a yawn. `` Murphy handles the fantastic stuff. I'm just doing the job given to me.'' 
 
 Phoebe knew their older brother only by the stories her mother and father shared with her. Murphy ruled a distant realm, from within a crystal castle. He was one of the endless, the seven inevitable forces who ruled the realms of mortals, and technically ran the family business. Her jealousy shifted towards the eldest brother. 
 
 `` I can do what you and Murphy do just as well. Let me go in your place tonight.'' 
 
 Roy shook his head, no. `` It's not my call sis. I would hate to make Murphy angry.'' 
 
 Phoebe spent the rest of that day brooding and napping beneath her favorite willow. Before evening came she tip-toed into Roy's room and stole his key to the gate. Unfortunately Roy's familiarity with sleep and the sleeping caused him to wake up before Phoebe could make good her plan. They wrestled, tumbling across the bedroom floor and into the assorted bookshelves and desks that lined Roy's room. Phoebe tore at her brother's arms like a wildcat. She kicked his shins and spat curses between pleas that Roy should take the night off and let her do his job. Roy tried to run for the door, to get help or to at least wake up their sleeping father, but Phoebe caught his ankle. Roy began to fall and reached for anything that might save him. His hand found the lip of a bookshelf, but the piece of furniture was top-heavy, overladen with knowledge. It tipped. There was a squeek of realization, then the bookshelf fell atop Phoebe's brother. He ceased moving. 
 
 Phoebe fled. She took her brother's key and left through the silver gate. Tears ran down her face and the realization of what she had done caused her to moan, low, and sad, and pained. She streaked through the worlds beyond ours, wailing to the subliminal winds that drift between thoughts and hopes. For a while she hid in Despair's realm. For a while she hid in Delerium's. It was not until the third night that she entered the realm of Dream. 
 
 `` Eldest brother'' she cried, `` I have done a great wrong. Help me, please! Help me''. 
 
 No one came. Instead she found herself in a mortal's sleeping mind. It was just Phoebe and the mortal staring at one another. `` Hello'' said the mortal, `` so, uh... what's this dream about? Are you going to get undressed or what?'' 
 
 Phoebe glared at him. She felt the rage building up within her. She had lost a brother, her closest companion and this mere mortal had the audacity to think she existed for *his* pleasure? Such selfishness! Such pride! She screamed at the insignificant creature. She lashed out at him, and suddenly his dream was filled with stalagtite maws and torrents of raging river water. She drowned him, and crushed him. She punished him for his impudence, and when the dreaming was done, the mortal woke within his bed, gibbering and lost to the world. 
 
 Phoebe felt... good. She felt vindicated, justified.'So this is what Roy did,' she thought.'This is what I shall do on his behalf. I shall visit the sleeper's of the world and scare them. I shall punish them for their wicked thoughts, and visit justice upon them until I have pay penance for my poor brother's death.' 
 
 And so she did, for a few nights. She tortured the sleepers she could reach before moving on to the next, but found that as many mortals as she could visit in one pass, there were always thousands upon thousands more.'I shall divide myself, and reach them all. This way I may visit the entire world in one night.'' She did just that. Phoebe split herself into a million smaller versions of herself, each different from and more disturbing than the last. One of her had arms that ended in vicious hooks. One of her was darker than deceit. These were the first nightmares. 
 
 When was done dividing her divinity, but before she could prepare for that night's deed, Murphy appeared among the teeming masses. `` Daughter of my mother,'' said Dream, `` what have you become? Phoebe, speak to me-'' 
 
 The fragmented consciousness of a child god gibbered before the lord of dreams. `` You had the best of intentions,'' he said, `` but you have become a monster, too terrible to unleash upon the mortals all at once. You shall remain here, in the depths of your imagination. Every night I will release a few of you, for I loved you as a sister, once. However, never again shall all of you leave my realm. This is the price of your jealousy. This is the debt you must pay for the blood on your hands.'' 
 
 The horde of Phobos panted, and huffed, and squealed before their new master.
