Twilight in the Dreamlands

by RB_

Rating: teen
Tags: Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna, Adventure, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 8067

A journal kept by Twilight Sparkle as she finds herself in a world made of dreams and nightmares.

After a failed attempt to help a friend, part of Twilight's consciousness finds itself exploring the Dreamlands, a strange and impossible world created from the dreams of every living thing in the universe.

Naturally, she keeps research notes.

Published 2014-07-15 19:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-07 17:53:48 UTC

Entry 1

PROPERTY OF THE CANTERLOT ROYAL ARCHIVES

LUNAR WING, SHELF 128

UNAUTHORIZED READING OF THESE MATERIALS IS CONSIDERED TREASON, AND IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH

______

Day 2

I have decided to keep a record of my experiences in this strange world. I have always believed that knowledge is power, so perhaps some good will come of writing all this down. At the very least, it will allow me to organize my thoughts.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Princess Twilight Sparkle, goddess of magic and friendship, protégé to princess Celestia, element of harmony, etc.

Little good that will do me here…

Three days ago, a friend of mine by the name of Rarity asked me for my assistance in a matter regarding her little sister, Sweetie Belle. Well, perhaps pleading or begging would be better suited. Regardless, she was concerned with the mental state of her sister. Apparently, she had been having night terrors for weeks without an apparent cause, and they showed no signs of stopping. As a result, her physical health had been rapidly declining, to the point that the little filly became confined to her bed. Rarity’s family, being fairly well to do, had summoned the best doctors from Canterlot to look at their daughter, but to no avail.

I agreed to help, of course. What else are friends for? Upon seeing the poor filly’s condition, I discovered that Rarity had not exaggerated in the least. Sweetie Belle was thin and frail, with visible bags around her eyes. Her already alabaster white coat had somehow become even paler, and her normally bright emerald eyes were dull and heavy.

I threw myself into my studies, seeking any form of insight into the filly’s ailment. I scoured medical texts, clinic records, psychology papers, but all to no avail. I eventually came to the conclusion that either this was some new, never before encountered disease, or that the nightmares were not a symptom, but the cause of the condition. As such, I shifted my search from medicine to dreams. However, this presented an entirely new problem: the near-complete lack of any solid knowledge of dreams. What information I could find was all conjecture and theory, and much of it contradicted itself.

With no other options, I found myself in the royal archives. The archives are where we princesses store the knowledge that should never be allowed to see the light of day. As much as I hate the Idea of restricting information from the masses, I make an exception for this. There are things down there that could destroy all of Equestria, were they to be found by the wrong ponies.

But I digress. Whilst searching through the deepest parts of the Lunar wing, I discovered an old, carefully preserved scroll. Written in Old Equestrian, It detailed a spell the likes I had never encountered before, but it was the intended effects of the spell that were important at the time.

This was a spell designed to allow a pony to travel into another’s dreams. For posterity, it was something like this:

[The next page of the text has been cleanly cut out of the book]

Thinking this to be the answer, I immediately tele-

Oh wait, She’s  I’m She’s falling asleep. I will continue this in the morning. I don’t want to miss a night of exploring.

Entry 2

Day 3

I have returned, dearest journal, and with many things to report. But first, I must finish recounting how I got here.

Upon returning to Sweetie’s home, I set about casting the spell. It took all of my concentration and skill. I do not know how long it took for the magic I was conjuring to activate; it could have been seconds, but to me it felt like hours. At last, however, the spell completed. I did not have even a moment to relax, however, as a pain unlike any other immediately pierced my skull. My vision was filled with impossible colors and shapes, multidimensional constructs building themselves around me in a display that would have driven any mortal pony mad.

And then a force began pulling me up, through the impossible structures. Pain once again spawned within me, as my mind felt as if it was ripped to shreds.

And then I found myself here, in the Dreamlands.

Well, not exactly. In truth, I was only within the relative safety of my own mind. I been knocked unconscious by the massive strain upon my magic, but it was a dreamless slumber.

Allow me to explain. While the spell that I cast on myself that day has given me the ability to visit dreams, it has also had some unexpected side effects. As far as I have been able to determine, that spell effectively split my consciousness into two. Or perhaps it merely copied it. Whatever the method, the result is me. The physical Twilight Sparkle continues her life unabated, returning to her search for a cure to Sweetie’s ailment, while I, the Twilight Sparkle created by the spell, am confined to her psyche during her waking hours.

The inside of her (our?) mind resembles a gigantic, infinitely spanning building of wood and stone, with bookshelves stretching for miles through its many chambers and corridors. I myself have been residing in a small study that I discovered on my first day of wandering. It has served me well, as both a home, and as a base of operations for my nightly expeditions.

At night, the physical Twilight sleeps and dreams, and then I get to explore. The spell was not lying as to its purpose. I can indeed travel to the dreams of other ponies, as long as our mind is connected to the Dreamlands, as I have come to call this bizarre plane of existence.

It would seem that all dreams are connected to this place, and here they become real. And I can simply walk between them, as if I were perusing books in a library. This place is amazing.

One other thing of note: whenever I leave the boundaries of physical Twilight’s mind, a glowing golden thread materializes and attaches itself to my horn. The other end leads to my home, and as such, I can never get lost. Also, should physical Twilight wake up while I am away, the thread yanks me back to her mind.

But enough of this for now; a new night approaches, and I am eager to see what more I can discover.

Entry 4

Day 5

This place may not be as peaceful and safe as I previously thought, dearest journal.

Last night, I decided that the time had come to properly investigate the pillars, and the worlds within. Choosing the nearest one, I pushed my way through the mist of the pillar’s wall, finding myself in what at first appeared to be a perfect replica of Ponyville. For a moment, I had thought that I had somehow returned home…

It was then that I noticed the imperfections in the town. For one thing, there was no detail to anything. The walls of the buildings around me were flat, matte colors, holding none of the textures that they would have possessed in the real world. The dirt beneath my hooves was hard and solid, more like stone than soil. Though there was a slight breeze, the blades of grass and the leaves on the trees did not sway or rustle. In fact, there was no sound or movement at all, just pure silence and stillness beyond the sounds of my breathing and the beating of my heart.

Furthermore, there were no signs of life. None of the townsfolk were present, despite the position of the sun in the sky indicating it was midday. No birds flew in the sky, no squirrels clambered around in the trees, nothing moved. The entire town was deserted.

I began to wonder if this was not, in fact, a dream, but a nightmare, when suddenly the silence was broken.

It was faint, but it was something. So, I began to follow the sound to its source. As I drew closer, the sound became more and more distinct, soon revealing itself to be the happy laughter of children. This made sense when I reached the place where the noises emanated from: the schoolhouse.

The grounds of the schoolhouse were filled with playing foals and fillies. It would seem that it was recess, and the students were taking full advantage of it.

Beginning to suspect just whose dream I had entered, I made my way forward, towards the school. Walking up to the front door, I noticed something different here. Where the houses and shops in town had been mere impressions of the real things, the school building was an almost perfect replica. The painted wooden walls actually had the correct texture, and the grain of the door was actually present. Even the flag on the flagpole was fluttering in the breeze.

Grinning, I opened the door and went inside, now almost certain of who I would meet.

Inside of the single classroom was a familiar mulberry mare, her head turned away from me and looking out the window at the happy foals. The class’s teacher, Cheerilee, gave a contented sigh, before turning back to the papers on her desk.

When she complains about her job never ending, she isn’t kidding. She even grades papers in her dreams!

Chuckling to myself, I made my way over to greet her. Before I could say anything, however, I was fiercely tackled from the side. Twisting my head around to look at my attacker, I discovered that it was a small, orange filly. With a strength that could not have come from her tiny frame, she hurled me into the chalkboard, which cracked under the impact from my durable alicorn body. Falling to the ground in a daze, I looked up to find that more children were pouring into the classroom, trotting over to stand beside my assailant. It was then that I got my first good look at the children’s faces.

They were expressionless, empty, devoid of all emotion. These were not the faces of living, thinking ponies. There was no life to them, no twinkle in their eyes, no subtle movements in their jaws, nothing. For Celestia’s sake, they didn’t even look at me as they approached, their eyes always blankly staring straight ahead! It was one of the creepiest things I have ever encountered, and I have combated changelings.

A quick glance at the teacher showed that she hadn’t even looked up from her desk. I tried to call out for help, but my voice came out as little more than a croak, having been unused for almost an entire week. Before I could do more, the horde of foals acted in unison, charging forth as one. In that moment of panic, I did not reach for my magic. Nor did I spread my wings and fly to safety.

No, in that moment, I ran.

I do not know if the children chased me to the edge of the pillar, or if they stopped when I left the school’s grounds. I did not look back until I had reached the end of my golden tether, where I clambered back into the safety of my own mind before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.

I don’t think I will be intruding into any more dreams for a while.

Entry 6

Day 8

Do the terrors of this place never cease!? What I experienced in Sweetie’s dream, or, rather, nightmare, has put everything I have ever feared to shame. Even Sombra, the former king of fear, could not have conjured up something like this.

Even recalling these events fills me with dread, but I must persevere, for the sake of knowledge.

My observations have revealed that the locations of the dream pillars in this land roughly reflect the position of their dreamers in the real world (I say roughly because the distances vary unpredictably, but the direction is always consistent). As such, I was fairly easily able to locate the pillar belonging to Sweetie Belle.

It was not hard to identify. While other pillars have always exhibited a soft white-purple coloration, the mist that formed this one was black, almost like a storm cloud. Entering, I felt a slight bit more resistance than normal, but otherwise my passage was uneventful.

The world held within was a barren wasteland. The dry earth below my hooves was scorched and blackened, and no life grew from it. The sun that hung in the sky was not a bright yellow but a dull red, and it bathed the land in a dim red glow that came across as more sinister than inviting. Once again, it was completely silent, inviting memories of my last dream-walking to begin flooding my mind.

With a shiver, I began to wander the decrepit landscape, searching for any sign of its occupant. After what felt like hours of walking, I finally spied something in the distance. Galloping towards it, I found a replica of the boutique where Rarity lived and worked. Much like the rest of the dreamscape, however, it was old and in disrepair, the once vibrant paint peeling and the wood plagued by rot. The addition of the red lighting created a very ominous effect.

Gathering my courage, I entered the boutique. The interior was in a similar state of decay as the exterior. The ponyqiunn models that usually displayed Rarity’s newest designs were bare and toppled, some of them appearing to have been violently torn open, their liberated stuffing spilling out across the floor.

As I observed the state of the room, something dripped onto my shoulder. Gasping, I jumped away before looking up. Hanging from a rope tied to the ceiling was a rough burlap sack, a thick black liquid dripping from its soaked bottom. I shudder to think what was in that bag.

A sudden noise from the basement, thankfully, diverted my attention. Listening, I again heard it: a sobbing cry, and then the sound of something impacting something else. Cautiously, I made my way into the lower floor, dreading what I would find.

Sweetie Belle sat in the center of the room, sobbing, with a knife clasped in her hooves. Below her lay the mutilated corpse of her sister, Rarity. Multiple stab wounds covered the mare’s body, blood pooling around her mangled form.

While these images will haunt me for the rest of my days, they will never compare to the terror of the third figure in the room.

It is difficult for me to recall it, but I will do my best to describe the nightmarish being that stood over Sweetie Belle. It stood on two long spindly legs, almost like those of a spider. They ended in sharp points, making it seemingly impossible for it to balance upright, yet it somehow did. The legs connected to a long, thin, ropelike body, almost resembling a spine in the way it arched, but much too long. The creature stood at almost the height of a tree, easily towering over the little filly in front of it. Two arms emerged from a point at the top of the spine, long and thin, and bending at odd angles from their three joints. They reached almost to the floor, where two hands, each with three fingers, sprouted. Its hands were wrapped around Sweetie’s forelegs, the ones gripping the knife.

And the creature’s head, oh sweet Celestia its head! Hanging from a bent neck that was the same thickness as the rest of the creature’s body and was almost a meter long, the head of the creature was that of a pony. Its mane hung down, almost to the monster’s midsection, while its eye sockets were empty and hollow. The creature’s mouth appeared to be stitched shut, but it was clear that it was smiling!

My attention was torn back to Sweetie Belle as the filly raised her hooves for another strike, but on closer inspection, it was clear that it was not her doing. Her hooves were being gently raised by the creature’s long arms, in a way that made me think of a filly playing with a doll.

The creature was forcing the young and traumatized filly to murder her sister.

And it was enjoying it.

Paralyzed by shock, I could do nothing but stare as the filly, guided by the nightmare standing over her, slammed the knife into her sister’s chest. And did it again.

And again.

And again.

I could not even move as a massive concussive blast erupted behind me, throwing me across the room and into a pile of boxes, which fell on top of my frozen body, obscuring me from sight, as well as cutting off my vision of the room.

“AWAY FROM OUR SUBJECT, MOST FOUL OF CREATURES!”

There was only one mare I had ever met who would talk in such a fashion. My suspicions were confirmed by Sweetie Belle’s next, desperate exclamation:

“Luna! Hel-”

Unfortunately, this was all I would hear, as I suddenly felt myself being dragged through the walls of this reality by the golden lifeline around my horn.

It appears that some form of my fear and shock had somehow been imparted to the sleeping consciousness of the physical Twilight, causing her to wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat. She did not return to sleep for the remainder of the night.

This incident brings with it a whole new set of questions. What was that creature? Why was it forcing Sweetie Belle to… to…?

And what role does Princess Luna play in any of this?

Entry 7

Day 9

I need to talk to Princess Luna.

As far as I am aware, she did not see me in Sweetie Belle’s nightmare. If my assumptions are correct, and they generally are, then she may hold the answer to my predicament.

I find myself growing jealous of the me that still resides in the physical plane. The novelty of this plane is wearing off, and the draining feeling of loneliness grows with each passing day.  I am trapped here, while she lives carefree in our castle, enjoying the company of our friends.

I miss them. I miss my friends.

[The ink here has run and smeared in patches, rendering several words illegible.]

I miss Pinkie’s endless             Rarity’s lofty yet gen                 tershy’s quiet smil       s Rainbo                ogance, and I miss Applejack’s stubb               g words.

I m     pike, my assistan        rliest companion. I mis

[The rest of the page has sustained serious water damage. Anything more that may have been written here has been lost.]

Entry 8

Day 10

Last night, I visited the dreams of my dragon assistant and friend, Spike.

Let me explain: I need to contact Princess Luna. The spell that started all this mess was from her archives. Besides which, she was in Sweetie’s dream. If anypony has an answer to my plight, it is her.

Spike’s dragon fire was enchanted long ago to send scrolls to Princess Celestia, and so he is the clearest route of opening communications with her sister.

I also want to spend time with one of my closest friends, lest I go mad from isolation. And because I miss him.

However, if my previous two experiences with dreamwalking have taught me anything, it is that you can never afford to dive straight in. as such, I spent the night silently observing from afar. Knowledge is power, after all, and I cannot afford to be blindsided again.

Spike’s dreamscape contained lush, rolling hills and valleys covered with the verdant green of flora. A soft breeze caressed the land, and, much to my surprise, actually elicited a response in the form of rolling waves that spread across the grasses of the landscape. A chorus of birdsong filled the air, and the heat of the sun rested pleasantly upon my back. There was none of the stillness, none of the silence that was present in the dreams of Cheerilee and Sweetie Belle.

It was rather refreshing.

It did not take long to find Spike. As much as I wanted to rush down and embrace the young drake, I settled atop a nearby hill under the cover of some berry bushes, observing from afar.

A red and white checkered blanket had been stretched out on the ground, and on top of it sat the makings of a picnic. Spike sat on one end of the blanket, munching on some sapphires, and between bites making conversation with the other figure present.

Rarity, reclining upon a very out of place couch, was happily nibbling at what appeared to be a daisy sandwich. The mare giggled at something Spike had said, and then replied with something that caused the young dragon to burst into loud guffaws.

Even while writing, I cannot help but smile. The whole scene was the very picture of friendship and happiness, two things I have greatly missed as of late.

There is something about the scene that puzzles me, however. Standing in a wide ring around the picnic were a dozen or so crystal statues, each resembling a young drake, but not quite images of Spike himself. Their spines were slightly too long, and they stood about three inches taller than my assistant.

They didn’t appear to have any purpose or significance to the dream, and I cannot think of any reason for their existence. Then again, it was a dream. I should not expect every little thing to make sense.

Anyway, I will be  returning again tonight. Perhaps an opportunity will arise to make contact.

Entry 9

Day 11

I did not manage to contact Spike last night, nor did I attempt to. I plan on waiting until I am certain that I can do so safely.

Spike’s dream today consisted of him, fully grown, sitting atop a giant hoard of treasure. I was there too, lying atop his massive back, books strewn around my slumbering form. The heartwarming scene took place in a massive cavern lit by enchanted gemstones embedded in the walls.

The strange thing, however, was the presence of the statues from before. They were far more numerous, and surrounded the mountain of loot on all sides. I was able to get a much more detailed look at them from my hiding place in a branching tunnel, and what I saw amazed me. The constructs were not carved from a single piece of crystal; rather, they were made up of a collection of smaller gemstones that were somehow being held together into the form of a drake. I could also now see that each of the figures possessed a small green flame that floated within them where a heart would reside.

Strangest of all was the fact that each of the statues would periodically expand and contract, as if they were breathing.

As impossible as it would seem, I believe these structures were alive, at least in some sense. What’s more, I received the distinct impression that they were guarding something, either the treasure, or its owner. Considering their presence in the previous dream, I am inclined to believe the latter. But from what?

Perhaps something akin to the monster I found in Sweetie Belle’s dream? In that case, it would make them something akin to an immune system, the white blood cells of dreams, protecting their host from foreign pathogens.

Actually…

A thought has occurred to me. If my theory is correct, that would make me a foreign element as well. And if these entities exist to combat such things, then this could explain what occurred in Cheerilee’s dream, when the foals attacked me. Could they have been the same as these creatures? That would explain why they only attacked when I attempted to interact with the teacher- they were defending her! Of course!

I will need more evidence to validate this theory, but I think I may be on to something. We shall see.

Entry 10

Day 12

Several things of note occurred in my latest foray into the dreams of my assistant.

Spike’s dream this time was super hero themed, reminding me of an adventure my friends and I once had involving an enchanted comic book. Skyscrapers stretched to the heavens in what can only be described as a very stereotypical metropolis. The ever-present statues were guarding their creator as always.

I had designed an experiment to test my theory. Scooping up a hoofull of gravel off of the street, I levitated it over to one of the crystalline guards. It stared stoically ahead as usual. I tried throwing the gravel into the perimeter that they had set up. Still no response.

Even after pelting the thing with gravel, it showed no sign of caring.

I then crumpled up a piece of parchment that I had brought with me from my own mind, and began to repeat the process. As soon as the paper got close to the guard (approximately 1.4825 meters, though that is just an estimate), it leaped over and slammed it into the ground, the parchment catching fire and disintegrating from its touch.

The crystal drake paid no mind to objects that originated from Spike’s dreamscape, but when a foreign object was introduced, it immediately neutralized it. This, I feel, lends enough credence to my theory as to their purpose for me to assume it to be true. It also reinforced another belief I hold:

I really, REALLY do not want to provoke these things.

Following this, I finally attempted to breach communications. Afraid to try personally interacting with the dragon, and armed with the knowledge that any message I sent indirectly would have to be done using things in this world, I set to work. Using my magic, I… borrowed… a wooden sign that had been hanging above a nearby shop. I then proceeded to carve a message into the boards:

Spike

This is real, not part of your dream. Contact Princess Luna. Tell her to look for a scroll in her archives detailing a dream-walking spell. Row 24, shelf 182. Make sure she does not cast it! She will understand.

-Twilight

Finished, I levitated the sign over to Spike, shoving it into his face so that there would be no chance of him missing it.

Unfortunately, I may have been a bit too enthusiastic. The sign slammed into his head, and the dream began collapsing around me as Spike began to awaken. With a frustrated shout, I resigned myself to having to try again tomorrow as my lifeline pulled me away from the dissolving dreamscape.

Just before I was yanked through the wall of the plane, I saw Luna flying overhead.

Entry 11 (Part 1)

Day 13

I think this may be my last entry for a while, dearest journal. I am likely going to be very busy in the nights to come!

Allow me to explain.

I was heading over to Spike’s dream pillar, to attempt to communicate again. It became apparent that something was very wrong, however, as soon as I laid eyes on the structure. Much the same as with Sweetie Belle’s nightmare, the normally calm pillar had become turbulent and chaotic, dark clouds spiraling angrily into the sky. I almost turned back, traumatic memories flooding my mind with primal fears, but I could not. Spike was my assistant, my first friend, almost a brother to me. I could not abandon him!

Even with my newfound resolve, it took all of my willpower just to take the first few steps into the nightmare.

The dreamscape held within the nebulous pillar was familiar to me. It was the same cavern as Spike’s dream from two nights ago- or, rather, almost the same. Whereas the lair in that dream had been warm and welcoming, the air here was cold and damp, the walls of the cave overgrown with mosses and brambles. The enchanted stones which had once illuminated the chamber with a soft orange glow were now cracked and chipped, their light flickering and dying.

The sounds of crying reached my ears, and I allowed my gaze to drift towards the center of the twisted chamber.

Here, there lay a disturbed mirror of the heartwarming scene from before. The statues, once the invulnerable protectors of this realm, lay in pieces, now no more than lifeless chunks of rubble. Their remains circled not a hoard of gold and gemstones, but a mountain of slate slabs, and atop them, the sobbing form of my friend. Something lay upon his back, mirroring my position from before, but it was obscured by the dragon’s shaking form.

Without thinking, I approached the stone mound, motherly instincts I did not even now I had kicking in and telling me that I needed to hold him, needed to stroke his spines and tell him that everything was going to be all right.

As I grew closer, I noticed inscriptions on the slabs, but I paid them no mind as I climbed to the peak.

Planting myself directly in front of his massive snout, I reached out with my hoof, gently resting it against his jaw.

“Spike?” I whispered.

No response.

“Spike? Can you hear me?”

Nothing. He just sat there, literal rivers of tears spilling from his massive eyes.

“Spike! Spike, please! Please look at me!” Now I was crying, desperate to end his sadness. “Spike! Please, please, wake up!”

Hoofsteps.

On his back.

Blinking away tears, I looked up from the face of my dragon friend as the sounds grew closer, closer, until the figure I had seen earlier revealed itself to me.

It looked like a pony skeleton, but… distorted.

Its front legs came into view first. They were long, impossibly long. Its scapula jutted out at right angles from the thing’s spine. Its humerus and radial bones had fused into one, and they protruded upwards, where they connected to a massively elongated cannon bone which reached down to the ground. The thing had no hooves, its limbs ending in worn nubs of bone.

The thing’s skull appeared normal, until it rose up as if looking at the ceiling, revealing a single, slitted eye nestled within the creature’s mouth, staring at me through the bottom of its jaw.

The spine of the creature was also elongated, dragging behind it for at least two meters. After what felt like an eternity, the monster’s hind legs were pulled over Spike’s crest. They were tiny and deformed, the bones improperly bent and fused, clearly unusable by the creature.

And the monster just stood there, staring at me, as if it knew that its very presence would frighten me into submission.

It was right.

Entry 11 (Part 2)

Day 13 (continued)

…for a moment, at least.

There is a concept in the field of physiology known as the acute stress response, or, more commonly, the fight-or-flight response. When an animal perceives a threat to themselves or their wellbeing, it triggers the adrenal medulla, which produces a series of hormones that result in the secretion of catecholamines, which include adrenaline and noradrenaline. The body also begins to convert stored fatty acids into energy, preparing for a response. In essence, this is the body’s way of preparing itself to either attack the threat, or to run from it.

This occurs in all animals, and ponies are no exception.

It has also been shown that, in many mammalian species, a parent will risk their own safety to protect its offspring, valuing the lives of its children above its own. This is known informally as ‘mama bear’ behavior.

I have raised Spike ever since he first hatched. In fact, I was the one who hatched him. And even though I view him more as a brother than as a son, there is no escaping instinct.

So, in the midst of my breathing quickening, my pulse accelerating, and my pupils dilating, I reached a decision.

I would not let this thing hurt Spike ever, EVER again.

This single thought grew in my mind, blotting out all the fear and replacing it with sheer, burning rage; and all of it directed at the disgusting, malformed beast perched upon the dragon’s snout.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” I shouted, magic building up in my horn, the building pressure threatening to break the relatively fragile bone, but I would not loose it, not yet. I stared the skeletal monster right in its single eye, which dilated in surprise and growing fear. An afterglow formed around my horn, then another, and another, and another, until the light of my mana blotted out the rest of the chamber in its brilliance, and still I held the flood back, letting it build ever stronger.

The creature tried to move, to escape, but to no avail, its crippled legs weighing it down like a ball and chain. It could not escape, and even if it could have, I would have chased it down until justice had been fulfilled.

It would never hurt anypony again.

Screaming, I finally opened the mental floodgates, the massive magical surge I had been suppressing blasting out with a power to rival the flames of the sun itself. There was no direction to this spell, no carefully constructed matrices, no painstakingly crafted guides. This was pure, unhindered, untamed magic, with a single purpose: the complete and utter annihilation of the abomination which had dared, DARED, to harm my friend.

It was like a candle in a hurricane; standing no chance and gone in an instant.

I awoke to the worried and tear-stained face of Spike, now his normal size and age, staring down at me.

“Twilight!” he exclaimed, noticing my return to consciousness. “You’re okay! Oh, sweet Celestia, I was so worried, you wouldn’t wake up, you weren’t moving, I thought-”

I pulled the young drake into a hug, cuddling him, letting him cry into my shoulder while I whispered comforting words.

Taking a moment while comforting my little friend to look around, I saw that no trace remained of the nightmarish beast. I then finally turned my attention to the ground we were sitting upon.

Gravestones. They were gravestones.

And perched atop the pile, facing towards where spike had been laying were five stones, more ornate than the rest, each inscribed with a familiar cutie mark.

I pulled him a little closer.

Entry 11 (Part 3)

Day 13 (continued)

I continued to hold the baby dragon for what felt like hours, gently calming and reassuring him that I would not leave him. Eventually, his dream self fell asleep, and the dreamscape began to shift and dissolve as Spike awoke in the real world. The walls of the cavern wavered and faded, becoming translucent, and as this happened, I spied the end of a blue hoof being pulled out of the pillar.

Laying the fading form of the slumbering dragon gently to the ground, I began to give chase. Slipping out of the dream myself, I spied the flying form of the midnight alicorn, almost half a kilometer away. Well, two could play at that game, and so I flared my wings and took off after her.

Time in the dreamlands has little meaning, and neither does distance. Both are inconsistent and malleable concepts here, freed from the binds of consistency in the physical plane. A kilometer can be traveled in the span of a second, or a meter in a dozen perceived hours. As such, I have no way of knowing how far we traveled, or for how long. All I know is that, no matter what, I could not catch Luna, nor even close the gap between us. She always kept just close enough that I could follow her, yet far enough away that I couldn’t interact. This didn’t stop me from calling out to her, though, to no avail.

The chase took us far across the shimmering landscape of the dreamlands, and several times the princess of the night shortcutted through dream pillars, forcing me to follow. Massive cities, overgrown forests, endless oceans, the depths of space; all flashed by, and all were ignored in my pursuit.

At last, Luna began to descend, elegantly drifting into a landing. The soft mist that drifted about gathered together at her approach, forming into a gate- no, rather, a portcullis- which slid open to welcome her.

It remained open just long enough for me to glide inside, shutting closed immediately after. I suppose I should have been worried about being trapped, but I was too busy taking in my new surroundings.

Stone hallways stretched off in all directions from the chamber I had entered –clearly an entrance hall of some sort. Midnight blue banners hung from the walls, adorned with the seal of the lunar diarch. Torches lit the halls with a soft light, and suits of ancient armor stood at regular intervals. I was reminded of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, deep within the Everfree. But while that castle had been a ruin, this was pristine.

A hoofstep and a shadow down the rightmost hall snapped me out of my stupor, and I once again began my pursuit.

This continued on for some time, the Princess keeping just out of my sight, until at last I reached a small, unassuming wooden door, behind which I could hear two voices. Or, rather, one voice, but in a conversation with itself. Pushing the door open slightly so that I could peek inside, I saw Princess Luna, sitting at a small table, taking a sip from a teacup. And, standing across from her was… a second Princess Luna?

Putting down her cup, the first Princess addressed the second.

“Would you mind dropping our form already? It is somewhat unnerving to talk to oneself in such a manner.”

Turning, the second Luna replied. “Have you not gotten used to this by now? We do this every night.”

“Yes, and it never ceases to disturb us. Me. You know what we- I, mean.”

Chuckling, the second Luna’s horn alighted. Her blue fur shimmered, turning into a fog of color which then began to melt off of her body, revealing a pitch black coat beneath. Her mane billowed, a wave of light spreading through it, transforming it into a formless mass of indigo. The lunar regalia began to melt, oozing down and reforming into a set of starmetal armor.

Her true form revealed, she sat down across from Luna, taking her own cup in her magic.

She was a pony I had only met once, and had never expected to see again. A pony I had personally helped to defeat. I had watched her be destroyed, seen the broken armor that had been her only remains- the very armor, unbroken, which now adorned the physical manifestation of Luna’s jealousy.

Nightmare Moon.

Entry 11 (Part 4)

Day 13 (Continued)

Luna chuckled. “Must you be so dramatic?”

Unfortunately, I did not hear the rest of their conversation, as I was too busy freaking out.

How could she be here? My friends and I defeated her years ago, liberating Luna from her thousand year torment! Unless she hadn’t been defeated, and it was all a ruse! What if she had been pretending to be Luna, biding her time until she could take over again!?

But wait, that didn’t make sense, the elements wouldn’t have been fooled by that. No, what if Luna had become jealous again, and history was repeating itself! Yes that had to be it! I needed to stop this, now before things went too far!

Before I could do anything rash, however, the door swung open, Nightmare Moon striding out. “Well, are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come in?”

Without any other alternative, I followed her back into the room.

Luna was gone

“What have you done with Princess Luna?!” I said, throwing as much confidence and anger into the words as I could muster.

The dark queen was unfazed. “I haven’t done anything; she woke up. Now, I’m sure you have lots of questions, but if you’d give me just a minute to explain-”

“How are you still alive?!”

“Like I said, if you’d just-“

Whatever your plan is, it won’t work! I’ll stop you here!”

“Twilight-”

“You won’t-”

“ENOUGH! THOU SHALL BE SILENT, AND THOU SHALL WAIT UNTIL WE ARE DONE SPEAKING! ARE WE UNDERSTOOD!?”

“Yes,” I whimpered, disarmed by the power of the Royal Canterlot Voice.

“Very good.

“Firstly, allow me to say that I am not the Nightmare Moon that you defeated when you first unlocked the powers of the elements of harmony. Nor am I the Nightmare Moon who attempted to plunge the world into eternal night.”

“But-” I began, but a glare from the Nightmare quickly silenced me.

“I am not saying that I did not have a hand in those events. In truth, I was just as caught up in those feelings of jealousy and resentment as Luna was. However, she was the one whom you defeated, and she was the one whom Celestia banished to the moon.

“Also, I am not evil. I have no plans to take over Equestria, nor would I want to. Now, you may ask your questions.”

“If you aren’t the one who we defeated with the elements, then who are you?”

“Long ago, years before our banishment, Luna was researching nightmares. This was when she first becoming resentful towards her treatment from her subjects. She thought that surely, if she could eliminate this plague upon the minds of her ponies, they would rejoice and celebrate her the way they did her sister!

“In her studies, she created a spell; the same spell which I suspect brought you here. A spell which would allow a pony to explore the dreams of others.  And I, my dear Twilight, am the result of that spell.”

A thought struck me. “Wait, if that is the same spell that I used, why do I still look like me, but you look like Nightmare Moon, not Luna?”

“We had long been masters of shape-changing magic. As such, the two of us decided that it would be best if I took on a new form and name, to avoid confusion. Also, Luna didn’t like the idea of talking to herself. You must understand, equestrian was still a very dangerous and wild place back then, and most nightmares tended to involve violence or great beasts. Thus, I took the form of a fierce warrior, and the name ‘Nightmare’s Moon’, which eventually just became ‘Nightmare’.

“Unfortunately, the form I chose was often more frightening to the ponies that I tried to help than the original nightmares themselves. They feared me, and I grew to resent that. My feelings only added to those that Luna was harboring inside of her already.

“When Luna decided that she had to force ponies to appreciate her, she took on my form and name. So really, I don’t look like Nightmare Moon; she looked like me.”

“So, you fix the nightmares of ponies all over Equestria?” I asked.

“Only in special cases. Normally, nightmares are a good way for a sleeping pony to discover that something is wrong, or to learn a lesson, and in these circumstances, I do not intervene.”

Confused, I asked,”What do you mean by ‘special cases’?” Then, understanding. “Those creatures…”

“The mære.” She replied.

“The mare?”

“No, the mære.

“Long before the coming of the Royal Sisters, unicorns had developed a spell to dispose of heinous criminals. The origin of the spell has long since been lost to history, as has, thankfully, the spell itself. Anything the spell was cast upon would disappear, banished. Nopony knew to where, and nopony cared. For centuries, murderers, rapists, insurrectionists, all who were found guilty of the highest crimes were sent away.

“When I began exploring this plane, I discovered what had become of them. Centuries of exile had transformed them into disgusting mockeries of what they once were, sadistic creatures whose only joy came from the torment of ponies in their dreams.

“And that is why I have led you here.”

“What?”

“I saw you defeating the mære in the dreams of your assistant. You have proven yourself very capable. Also, as is evidenced by the suffering of dear Sweetie Belle, I cannot be everywhere at once. It would be a great help if I had another to help me combat these threats.

“And, secretly, I’ve always wanted a student…”

How could I say no?

Entry 3

Day 4

It occurs to me that I have not yet given a full description of the Dreamlands.

They truly are spectacular.

Imagine you are in the plains surrounding Appleoosa, a great, vast expanse that reaches out to the horizons on all sides.

Now, replace the ground beneath your hooves with the shimmering ribbons of the aurora borealis, except exclusively shades of blue. Replace the sky with an infinite blackness, in which you occasionally think you see things moving, but you can never be sure.

The clouds of dust kicked up by the wind become shifting strands of a fog, which parts around you as if it is alive. The plants and animals fade away into nothingness, because there are none here.

Stars here do not dot the sky, breaking up the night. Here, they float near the ground like fireflies, lazily hovering as they slowly drift towards some unknown location.

And then there are the pillars. They reach up into the sky, towering columns of white mist that ever-so-subtly shift their hues. I have attempted to fly to the top of one of these, and gave up after what felt like twenty minutes of no progress.

Dreams exist within these massive pillars, entire worlds created by the subconscious mind of the pony within. I have only entered a few of these pillars, and not for very long, but every time the interior is different. Furthermore, the inside dimensions of the pillars vastly differ from those on the outside. I suppose I shouldn’t expect an adhesion to Euclidian mathematics in a place such as this, but it honestly makes my head hurt.

I am worried about exploring these dreams too much, however.  It feels like I am invading the privacy of the ponies inside. I suppose I shouldn’t be too concerned, being cut off from the waking world as I am. Still, it just feels wrong.

Curiosity may just tip my hoof, however.

Entry 5

Day 7

I have not ventured out of my haven since my experiences with Cheerilee’s dream. Those foals scared me more than I care to admit. However, I may have to force myself to leave tonight. There is something I have been neglecting.

Reading back through my earlier entries, I realized that I have completely forgotten Sweetie Belle’s plight in the wonders and terrors of this land. I am in the perfect position to investigate, and yet I have been acting like a filly in a candy shop while the sister of one of my best friends withers away.

I intend to rectify this tonight.

In the meantime, I have been exploring the vast library that is my mind. Were it not for the circumstances, I could easily spend days simply going through all of the knowledge that resides here. Each book is a memory, a lesson, an experience, all catalogued and bound into volumes and volumes of knowledge that I had forgotten about. But it seems that my mind had not let these memories go; it had been storing them here, waiting for the day I would need them.

How the field of psychology could grow if its scholars could only see what I have! I am sure that, with enough exploration, even the deepest secrets of the inner workings of the brain would reveal themselves to me. If only I had the time to do so…

Physical Twilight still searches for a cure to Sweetie’s ailment. She has not returned to the archives since the incident that led to this. I do not know how I know this, but perhaps our minds are still liked in some manner?

Anyway, night approaches, and I must prepare for my journey.

Wish me luck.