In the beginning, the nursery is darkness. The nanny of thousands is silence. Our pillows are poppy clusters. My playmates are the tribe of the Oneiroi, which I lead. My brothers – Phantasos, master of the shape of inanimate objects, and Icelos, called Phobetor by mankind, is master of the shape of beasts, of the air, water, and land.
The fun part is that mortals never figured out the number of us, our parentage, or our exact names. The poet Ovid claimed my father, Hypnos, had thousands of sons not yet with form. We are more than happy to keep it a mystery. Moms, dads, uncles, and aunts, we all originate from the line of the master creator: Nyx. I am one of many, but the only God of Dreams.
Good evening, dear mortals. I see so many of you in the sleeping time. You would not know me, but I know you. I hope it is evening where you are, because night is the best time. I have never needed light to see in the dark. Yes, I have come home, as they are calling it now. I have never called here home, but I do not have a choice in the matter. I am master of dreams, but not of this decision, it appears. I will adapt.
I look around the small building I procured to begin my new business in the human world: an art club named Cloud Nine. Recently, I placed an ad for a personal assistant, interviewed a handful of humans, and picked one named Bear. This is his real name, according to a driver’s license and birth certificate. He is as tall as me, but twenty pounds lighter. Imagine Shaggy from Scooby-Doo with shorter hair. I’ll probably have to train him because of a lack of experience. Honestly, I hired him because I liked his shoes and hair. Totally legitimate. He is also a poet. I’m starting to think I employed this mortal simply so I could stare at his beauty.
Bear will do all of my daytime stuff, like procuring supplies, arranging for utilities, decorating, whatever an art club requires, which I am not sure of. This will be a learn-as-we-go project. Bear also likes the same music as me, another bonus. I will never work with someone who doesn’t enjoy blaring Goth music. I suppose since I am a god, I should never say I work with a mortal, but they work for me, but whatever.
Bear also likes dogs, which is important because Amphitrite entrusted Seabiscuit’s care to me while she is away in Atlantis. Before moving into the God Complex, I met the Goddess of the Sea as she left in haste for “mothering” business. She couldn’t take the adopted dog to the underwater city with her. The pup and I get along great, and he is a regular at Cloud Nine – our official mascot.
Once a month, Cloud Nine hosts special parties where deities (and invited guests), come to drink some tea made from underworld poppies and journey to a dreamscape created especially by me. I help them receive or send messages, glimpse their future, or clarify events going on in the present. These revelations are revealed only to them. I am a Seer, but I have limits. There hasn’t been an event yet, but it is on the schedule.
It will either be a hit or a complete disaster. Knowing my family, I expect explosions, riots, orgies, and natural disasters. Since I am not an idiot, I should reconsider this idea, and if I proceed, Bear and Seabiscuit will certainly have the night off. Any God or Muse who damages my business will have relentless nightmares, constructed by yours truly, for a year. At a minimum.
I realize this first post is all tells and no show, but give me a chance to set things up. I am not a fan of the mortal plane, and am used to communicating instantaneously rather than word by word, paragraph by paragraph, and don’t get me started on these obnoxious rules about word counts and formatting. *Cue eye roll*
I am asked, How old are you? Let me ask you this: how long have people been dreaming? A better question would be to ask how long have I had a physical form. After a few thousand years, you stop counting. I am called morose (from Latin, morosus). Well, Moros, the God of impending doom, is my kin – an uncle maybe? We’re the Addams Family of the Pantheon and proud of it.
Technically, I’m a daimon (or daemon). The black wings are loads of fun, although after the first couple of hundred times you terrify someone, it gets tiresome. They’re also not practical to unfurl indoors. Bear believes me to be human. Seabiscuit knows and is familiar with deities after living with Amphitrite. I open them up when I am at home. Sometimes, I fly in the open air during the night.
Speaking of home, my new one is at the God Complex. I have a whole floor, which is more than I know what to do with. There are no lights, but I do have candles and magical orbs, which work to illuminate the space when necessary. I haven’t had visitors yet, besides Seabiscuit. The walls and ceiling are painted and decorated to resemble the galaxy and black void of space. Poppies are planted on shelves and in decorous pots among other night-blooming flowers. My windows are huge, and I let the moonlight in to bathe the blossoms.
Seabiscuit has requirements which include sunbathing and daytime walks. Bear accomplishes these duties, lest you think the poor pooch is shut up in a dark house all the time. He is probably not well-suited to me, but affection goes a long way with his kind. I also have two bats – Kat and Killjoy – that are prickly toward him right now (guess which one is the asshole). I hope they end up buddies rather than merely tolerating each other. Did you know that female bats can store semen and delay pregnancy for months? They also hibernate. The perfect creatures for my new home.
Dear mortal, what would you like to read about next? An adventure with my brothers? The time I forced a pirate captain to jump from his own ship with a nightmare so frightening, it drove him mad? The deity who hired me was pleased to collect the precious treasure the pirate had stolen. Or maybe the tale about the jealous queen, who wanted me to scare the cheating king with a dream so real and full of ominous portent, he would never glance at another woman again?
I have many stories to tell you and events to share about my life, family, and friends. There will be many new adventures ahead. Hold on to your blanket, turn off the lights, and try to relax. Let sleep come and bring you to me.
I leave you with a poem:
Galaxy light, true midnight
Wash me in your splendor.
Night-blooming, goddess crooning
Unfurling arms so slender.
Infinite whorl, ecstatic pain,
I clutch you in chains
My freedom is yours to claim.
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