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

He came into our town one day, and we barely even noticed. It was the second week of the Goddess ’ madness, and our restless nights were beginning to take a toll. We were too busy trying to preserve what little remained of our lives to notice yet another wasted soul stumbling through the streets. 
 
 And yet, that night, the nightmares weren ’ t so terrible. The one after, they were weak and wispy. The third, they were gone. We each lay in our beds, in each other ’ s embrace, collapsing where we stood and fought the tiredness, and we waited for the dreams to come and torment us again. But they did not come. We lay and slept a strange, dreamless sleep, and we awoke dizzy but rested, for the first time in days. 
 
 That was when I saw him, a feeble man, a wasted man, watching the city with a sad but satisfied smile, before he turned to leave. Did I draw the connection then? Was I motivated by a sense of gratitude? I will never know. But I gave chase, and insisted until he let me walk with him. 
 
 And so we walked, through brush and unkempt fields, over dusty paths and cobbled streets. Wherever he went, to tiny hamlets and once proud towns, he brought peace and that strange dreamless sleep. In time, he thanked me for my company and my advice, for few can match my pathfinding. Before that, he tried to scare me into leaving, with the worst he could offer - the truth. 
 
 I did not believe him at first, but I saw it in his hollow eyes that he lacked the will or strength to lie. The relief from sharing that burden must have been too great. Because he was not a man, merely something terrible inhabiting the discarded shell of one. Once, he told me, once the Goddess hunted him and his kind. Before a mortal sought to harm Her and succeeded beyond, ha, his wildest dreams, She would hunt those like him. 
 
 Dream eaters, they were. Nightmares too strong, too persistent for our Goddess to simply dispel. Some would thrash and fight, wake poor innocents as they tore their dreams for power to futilely fight Her. He, however, chose to run, to hide in the waking world, feeding upon scraps of dreams and nightmares the Goddess hadn ’ t yet reached. 
 
 And now, now in Her madness, he had me help him gather strength as we drew ever nearer to the capital, and Her palace. It was there that we parted ways, and I almost gave my life to distract Her guards as he snuck into Her chambers. 
 
 I do not know what happened there, in the tower. But when the night came, the nightmares were weakened. When the next, there was our Goddess, charging from dream to dream, destroying the monsters She Herself made with renewed fury. I do not know what happened up in that tower. Did they fight? Did he give his life to make Her realize what She was doing? Did he somehow mend Her broken heart? 
 
 I do not know. But I do not quite dream as deeply as I once did. A side effect of him feeding upon my tormented dreams for so many nights, I think. And sometimes, I feel Her presence at the edges of my feeble dreams. Perhaps She is looking after me, for what I have done. Perhaps She is looking for someone. Perhaps I ’ ll never know. But it helps me sleep at night. 
 
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