Dreamer's Dance

The boy's eyes opened wide as he woke up to the new world around him. The dream had just begun, but was it really a dream? He felt his hands shake, as the last bits of memory of the previous nightmare wisped away in the back of his mind. He was free now, free of everything. No more suffering, no more torment, no more imprisonment. Free, but at what price? His emerald eyes darted about, screening the environment for any differences in the dreamscape. The world was the same, but the feeling was different, and with that feeling alone the world looked altered, mirrored, possibly. Something had been lost, the boy felt it. Something profound. Something good? Perhaps not. Something bad? Most definitely.

What had he lost? The boy's eyes moved fluidly, with drooping eyelids masking him from the abhorrent truth that awaited him. Fear lingered in his mind, the paranoia grew stronger. He felt unprotected and alone. The boy's mind processed, and the paranoia grew stronger. Loneliness sunk into his heart like a milestone would a river, rapidly growing heavier with every passing moment. The world began to distort; the sights became illusions; the thoughts turned into needles and knives, cutting away at his innocent, child-like peace.

He had woken up, but to what? What felt like a nightmare of ignorance was now a nightmare of maturity. He did not understand the difference, but was there one regardless? The boy rose to his feet, legs trembling slightly as he pushed himself forward, moving out of the cradle that once held him safe from the unknown terrors about. Loneliness grew stronger, it caused his heart to sink just as his toes sank into the sand that covered the world around him.

The emerald eyes were blocked by the light brown locks of hair that covered his face. A lithe and soft hand pushed the hairs up, over his head. He could now see, but he knew not what he was supposed to look for. Sorrow grasped onto his thoughts, diverting the mindstream to a large pool of inner suffering that made his muscles weak. The boy's head turned, looking into the world around, looking for something, for someone. With that, the world's flow slowed, and the excess thoughts caused the illusion to grow thicker.

Out of thin air, shapes began to take form, moving like clouds in a perfect sky. They were free, they were intact, yet they continued to take form. Simple puffs at first, wisps of nothingness that began to grow longer, thicker. Arms and legs formed, attached to a developing torso, with a head that began to burrow its way out. The boy was not afraid, he was actually amused and intrigued. He walked closer, moving into the cloud of humanoid puffs, floating like a fish among jellies in the deep sea.

He smiled, staring at the beautiful beings as they came into existence, becoming more like the boy. They grew hair, they had eyes, clothes formed, and they took on vibrant personalities and became unique individuals. They floated around the boy and each other, seemingly aimless, going about like bees in a hive with an invisible sense of direction. The boy laughed, staring at the creatures that looked human but behaved so unlike them. He walked closer to one, a boy who looked as old as he, waving, greeting him. The boy did not respond, he merely played with the toy in his hands: an ever-shapeshifting block that went from a small robot to a mini-truck to a plastic pistol.

Fear struck the young boy, his grass-green eyes widened as he fell back. He was bewildered by the toy that the other boy possessed. He did not understand the purpose behind it, and feared whatever it changed into. Devices that wielded mastery over the other boy's attention were the only forms it took, captivating him eternally as he grew old and mastered the very real versions of the toys that amused him as a child. Devices that controlled others, devices that demanded more than what it returned, devices that extorted other boys into obedience.

The boy with green eyes moved back in confusion, unable to accept the truth that lay before him as feelings of pity and hate grew inside of him. Pushing the feelings out, casting his attention onto other things, the young boy looked upon a young girl, one no older than he, playing with a series of twigs that were strewn together to mimic the human form. He focused his attention on the makeshift doll, watching the twigs grow leaves rapidly, leaves that masked its form and then wasted away to reveal a miniature of the girl that held her.

Surprised, the young boy looked closer, watching the miniature girl transform. She grew taller, more mature in appearance. Her hair took on many shapes, altering its color, style, and length. The clothing she wore became shorter, exposing more of her own body in a sickening fashion. The young boy stepped away, feeling awkward as he saw he was staring at the doll. He looked upon the young girl, seeing more of the doll's new appearance taking root in her.

With his innocent green eyes the boy watched the girl become nothing more than a simple toy, an object that was used to gather the attention of other girls that would mimic her and captivate the attention of young boys like himself. He felt disgusted and turned his eyes away, gazing upon another sight in the crowd. He saw nothing more than boys with toys and girls that looked like dolls moving freely about, staring at each other and dancing about like jesters in a court. Their faces began to turn wretched, their features melting and becoming revolting to look upon. The boy shrieked, and all eyes saw him. They saw his fear, and they quickly put on masks, beautiful masks that were the former versions of their faces.

Quickly, a hand grabbed the boy's shoulder, pulling him backward. The young boy kicked and screamed, trying to escape the clutches of this stranger, watching with startled eyes the beings around him putting on masks as they turned more into disgusting monsters. They tried to catch each others' attention and dance long enough with one another till they leaned in and kissed one another, then fled from each other, only to dance some more. They always kept masks on, the girls trying to become more like dolls and the boys trying to gather more toys to overshadow each other.

The young boy screamed as he felt the hand become pincer-like, digging itself into his shoulder, clawing away. He turned his head and bit the arm, hearing a ferocious cry that did not sound human at all, but rather more like a monster from a horrible nightmare. The hand let go off the boy, and he took this opportunity to kick himself off the ground and run. His little legs shot up sand with every step, creating a cloud as he ran through the crowd of beings. Confused, scared, not knowing where to go, he continued to run, trying to escape the great crowd.

He eventually broke through the crowd, but his knees gave way as weakness gashed through his body. The sand met his face, blinding those emerald eyes and dirtying those locks of light brown hair. A devilish shriek was heard, and a ghastly arm extended out of the ground, aiming for the boy. He rolled in the sand, barely dodging the hand as it attempted to wrap its fingers around his body. The boy rose to his feet hastily, trying to run once more, but the arm violently turned, grabbing him and pulling him into the crowd.

They continued to move, seemingly aimless, like bees in a hive with an invisible sense of direction. The boys played with their toys, the girls became their toys, either of them dancing about like jesters, wearings their colorful masks as they became nothing more than hideous monsters underneath, wasting away underneath, all the while waiting for a kiss from another dancer in the crowd. The boy was now in the game. He was given a mask and some toys, and told to dance like everyone else. He refused. He threw the mask to the ground, and refused to take the toys that were given to him. He refused to dance, and he stood silently in the middle of a crowd.

He was alone, but he was not unhappy. He did not have those feelings of sorrow, and he did not desire to be like others. He was himself, a young boy with emerald eyes and light brown hair. He was free, and he hoped that the nightmare would end soon. With this thought, the world collapsed and his eyes opened once again, this time to his bedroom. He glanced across the room at his night-light. Upon it was a mini-dancer holding a mask in his left hand, and a toy in his right.

The boy laughed, and went back to sleep.