Chapters Are All Simple Things So Complex?
“Luna.”
One of the drawbacks of Princess Luna’s total control of subconscious lucidity was that she could tell when someone in the waking world was speaking to her, no matter how deep she might have been in sleep at the time.
“Lunaaaa…”
The princess felt an ethereal poke at her withers, coming from somewhere in the veritable abyss that was her dream. She knew it was Celestia, likely stood over her with a small frown on her muzzle, but paid it no heed.
“Luna, get up. It’s sundown in less than an hour.”
Luna sighed vacantly, she hated doing this: Segmenting her concentration, she reached out to her physical self and barely opened an eyelid to squint at Celestia. She then channelled her thoughts through her mouth, all without leaving her empty dream. “I’ll be up in ten minutes, sister.”
She did indeed see Celestia’s frown, which only deepened at her utterance. “It was ‘ten minutes’ twenty minutes ago,” she tutted, nudging her a little more. “Come on, Luna, I’m completely exhausted. You didn’t have to preside over court today, it was crazy. All I want to do is go to bed myself, and I don’t want to have to raise the moon for you again.”
Luna replied only with a short nod, mulling Celestia’s words over as she peered towards the ceiling with one eye and a blanket of darkness with the other, which was still closed. After a small measure of deliberation, she nodded again. “Five minutes longer, and I will be awake.”
“Fine,” Celestia grumbled, “but if I come back in five minutes and you’re still laid there, I’m pouring a cold glass of water over you.”
Luna shrugged off Celestia’s comment, although she wasn’t sure whether she just imagined doing so. She closed her eyes again, drifting back into an empty slumber.
She knew she had been this way for hours now, but it could almost feel as long as she wished it to. She could experience her dream in real time, or trick herself into believing it was over in a second; all she would remember is falling into sleep and then getting up. On the other hoof, she could stretch it out too, a thousand years of darkness and solitude if she so desired.
Luna always found other ponies’ misconceptions regarding dreams funny, and the empty dream was a big one. Most ponies seemed to think that you dreamt a specific dream all of the time, but only remembered some of them, and that was why you couldn’t recall your dream every time you woke up. In actuality, the reason that certain dreams aren’t remembered is because nothing transpires in them. They are black, devoid of interaction, and completely lifeless.
Luna wondered if she was the only pony capable of truly experiencing such a dream. It was a unique brand of solitude, but it had become all the more inviting lately. After her most recent experiences in the dreamscape she loathed to let her dreams run wild, they took her to places she wasn’t welcome in.
Being able to contain herself to simple nothingness – her thoughts and feelings in a faux stasis – was almost a blessing, but she knew that stifling the expression of her unconscious mind was potentially dangerous, even if it was unconventionally stimulated when she dream-walked.
This was better than the alternative, she sought to remind herself. She had recently made a promise to herself to stop perpetuating her torment, but she still did not trust that she would persevere. Five days she had lasted without doing the dreaded thing, but still the thought weighed heavy on her mind, no matter how she might cover it up.
She knew it was destructive, she knew she was only upsetting herself, and she knew it was regressive, but she could barely help it. It had been a small stroke of genius and a sudden jolt of elation when she realised it was possible, amazement when it had actually worked, and then addiction soonafter. Unfortunately, like all things, it soured with time, and the repetition of her nights spent there only served to damage her soul.
Luna had no reason to think of it any more. She hadn’t visited in five days, and was an expert in navigating the tumultuous surface of the dreamscape, meaning that while she knew how to find her vice in very little time at all, she also knew how to avoid it.
She only wished she knew how to avoid knowledge of its existence altogether. She would happily forget right now, but she wasn’t sure whether she should feel guilty about that.
Luna chose not to dwell on the topic, opening her eyes to greet the receding day, the sun low in the sky like a fiery pendant hanging from a long chain. Rubbing her eyes once, she stepped onto her balcony to watch as the sun gave its last throes of splendor for the day, its radiance stifled as it was slowly set.
There was something Luna enjoyed about sunset. For all of the sun’s splendor, for all its power and ferocity, its strength and regality, it knew how to take its leave, and graciously did so each day, but even still it departed in a stunning blaze.
The moon was a much simpler creature, content to watch over the world in the sun’s stead but not with such aggressive flamboyance, as it had companionship in the many stars that accompanied it throughout the night, and didn’t feel it necessary to cast illumination on the world. The stars were merely dead suns themselves, gone for years as the moon remained everlasting, but the moon didn’t need to know that, it could convince itself otherwise if need be.
Closing her eyes and channelling energy into her horn, Luna prepared herself for the task of bringing about night. Handling the gargantuan, straining amount of magic it took to put her namesake in place was certainly the most easy part of her night.
For hours Luna toiled, coaxing nightmares from the deepest recesses of her subjects’ minds, be those impalpable, imagined demons or much more visceral threats, born of real life worries and fears.
One dream had been particularly poignant: It had told a tale of systematic abuse. Though the dreamer has been the instigator, rather than the victim, they were pained by it all the same.
Through studying the pony and their displeasure, Luna had silently worked for thankless relief, taking the negativity from the dream and forging a scenario in which the pony would be led to do the right thing, which they eventually did. She had chosen not to reveal herself to the pony, as in doing so she would also reveal her knowledge of their transgressions.
She felt pity for the pony. Despite knowing that he had done wrong and clearly regretting it, he was still tormented for his inactions and past mistakes when he tried to sleep at night. It was clear that the want to correct such mistakes was present, if only because the pony did in fact know that what they had done was terrible, rather than for an ulterior motive, such as peace of mind. Luna was sure the pony was not even aware that they were dreaming.
Dealing with timberwolves and ghosts felt almost laughable in comparison. If worries of evil creatures were all that plagued a pony at night, it was likely that their waking world was quite pleasant by contrast.
There were many things Luna would give to dream of being chased by timberwolves.
It was 4am, and as she often did at this time, Luna had hit a lull in her work. New dreams rarely started this late, most ponies had already been settled into one for hours by this point. While dreams could change, the possibility of a very sudden negative turn this late in the night was quite slim.
It was at this time that Luna found herself wandering the unpaved avenues between dreams, searching for something to occupy herself with. In the back of her mind, she knew there was something she could be doing, something that almost screamed at her to acquiesce, but she refrained, knowing it was a bad idea and refusing to give in.
She needed a holiday, she concluded. Somewhere away from her thoughts, and not of her mind’s concoction, suitably unfamiliar. Something foreign and comforting that would make her ever so briefly forget about the palace grounds, her sister, her role, her past, her friends…
She flicked through dreams like a catalogue, but each looked suitably generic. Lacklustre creations with insufficient detail, products of a stunted imagination, she reckoned. Some looked too private, too personal, and others looked to be too complex.
She had almost given up when she stumbled across one in particular, a dream she almost felt familiar with.
She was sure she had seen the verdant farmland before, and after a small amount of time she realised that it resembled what few seconds she had once seen of Applejack’s dreams. However, there was a difference.
The closer she got to the threshold of the dream, the more she saw it. Rows upon rows of countryside, each painted across the dreamer’s mind in such vivid detail you could swear it was real life. Luna was taken aback, awestruck. Scarcely had she seen a dream before that looked so realistic, so powerful.
And that was it. Despite the stupendous amount of detail, this really did appear to be an extremely ordinary dream. Luna had seen countless dreams in the past, and while she was familiar with the phenomenon that occurred when a pony dreamt of their daily activities, it was often that there was a twist. Perhaps they excelled at them in their dream, perhaps their affairs were much better or worse, or their usual activities could even be interspersed with other, more outlandish events.
Still, this was the perfect picture of tranquility. There was a pony in the distance, a hulking red stallion, pulling a cart attached to his body as he worked his way through the fields.
Luna peered closer, watching for any abnormalities, anything that would confirm to her that what she was seeing was indeed a dream, but the realism was too hard to ignore. The fact that all this pony seemed to do in his sleep was pull carts was quite shocking, but equally interesting.
After a little time, he set his cart down, causing Luna to raise an eyebrow. By then, she was camping in one of the further off trees, sat inside the dream. Even the branches and leaves felt real, it was astounding. The large, red pony walked over to one of the trees opposite to her, placing baskets before it at alternating angles. Once he appeared satisfied, he extended a forehoof and gave it a quick, powerful punch, the force causing all of the apples to descend, landing neatly in their baskets as the loud thud of hoof hitting oak reverberated.
All the apples but one, it seemed. This struck Luna as incredibly odd, and she couldn’t help but stare at the lone apple, sitting in isolation and waiting to be plucked. What she found stranger still was that the red pony didn’t appear to notice the remaining fruit, silently loading the baskets onto his cart before fetching more.
In a pony’s dream, they decide the parameters, it’s all their imagination. How could this pony miss an apple and not realise? Does it represent something, or does it simply serve to highlight the lack of departure between this stallion’s creative mind and his work—
Luna thought no more, having been bucked out of the tree. She landed with face and forehooves against the grass, her hind legs scrambling to find purchase as she looked up at her evictor, shock plastered across her face.
It was her first time taking in his features, and she was equally surprised here too. Three freckles on his cheek, eyes as green as his cutie mark, his physique matching hers, but bulkier, and his mane strawberry blonde and barely kempt. He looked to be a young adult despite his stature, but he carried himself as if he was much older.
Those features were formed into what appeared to be a passive frown, as well as a slightly defensive stance. Luna bounced up onto her feet with a flutter of her wings, which only made him take a step backwards, his legs appearing to tense. When he spoke, it was a strong, but fair tone. “Mind explainin’ what y’were doing in my tree, miss?”
“Ahem, I-I was, uhm, err—” Luna was at a loss. What was she doing there, after all?
Against her better judgment, Luna said the first thing that came to mind. “You do realise that you’re dreaming, don’t you? And that I am Princess Luna, Guardian of the Night, and as such can enter the dreams of other ponies at will?”
The pony seemed to consider her words for about a second. “That right, huh?” was all he offered in return.
“W-well, yes, it is.” Luna returned, rising to full height.
“And pardon my sayin’, miss, but isn’t your role in the dreamscape to shepherd those ponies that are havin’ a bad time?”
“That’s correct but—” Hold on a second . “How do you know about the dreamscape?”
“Read it somewhere,” he grunted, walking over to his cart. “So, I reiterate… What are you doin’ in my dream, Miss Luna? I don’t see any bad times ‘round here.”
“That’s precisely it,” Luna said, somehow content with honesty, almost feeling it being drawn out of her, “I couldn’t see any, and that interested me. Your dream, your farm, it’s quite picturesque.”
He seemed to look around the farm once, as if he was taking it in for the first time in a while. “You reckon? Pardon my sayin’, but I’d say I’ve grown quite used to it.”
“But your dream is so detailed…” Luna flew up, taking a pair of leaves from a tree and presenting them to the unimpressed pony. “Look at this leaf. It has all the curves and lines of a real one, and even feels the same, and yet this one looks completely different! Each looks as if it has been meticulously crafted by nature herself, yet you dismiss it so readily?”
The pony peered at the leaves for a moment before shaking his head. “Like I said, I’ve grown quite used to it. Details stick after a while, miss.”
Luna thought back to the moon. She still remembered how many steps it took to traverse the entire thing. “That they do, but this is still incredible… Excuse me for asking, but do you have this dream often?”
“Fairly,” the red pony replied, this time instantly. “Never realised my dreams were anything spectacular.”
“I’m honestly upset that I haven’t seen them sooner…” Luna walked through the fields, feeling the grass against her hooves as she kept pace with the mysterious pony, who was currently walking away with his cart. “Would you mind if I spectated for a while on your farm?”
The pony turned, his eyes softer than before. “Well, s’posse it’s a dream so you can’t really eat nothin’...” He cracked a small smile. “Go ahead. There’s a tall hill over yonder that gives a real good view, you might like that.”
“You should show me at once!” Luna smiled, taking flight and whisking her way around the pony and his cart as he unhooked himself, placing baskets under another tree.
“Would you be alright findin’ your own way, miss? Can’t imagine it’d be much trouble with those wings of yours.”
Luna’s body momentarily drooped, yet she still hovered in place. “You wouldn’t like to come with me? To relax, perhaps?”
Another mighty punch, and fruit rained into baskets. The farmer cast an eye at the princess. “I am relaxin’, miss.”
Luna only nodded, feeling like an intruder in the pony’s dream. She turned then, considering taking her leave as much as she was interested in the hill and the view it might offer. She barely got five paces away when his gruff voice made her turn back.
“I’ll join you right after I’ve finished this row. Name’s Big Macintosh, case you were wonderin’.”
Luna’s body soared as she took flight in search of a tall hill, as did her heart.
The view from the hill was indeed splendid, as was the company. For a minute they may have sat there, or perhaps an hour. It was hard to tell, as there was scarcely any conversation to mark the passage of time, and the facsimile of the sun remained anchored in place, the one abnormality Luna found in this perfect dream. Here, the day was constantly at its apex.
Macintosh sat on his haunches, roughly three paces from her, while Luna – foregoing courtesy – chose to lay on her belly, allowing the sun’s rays to hit her, warming her body and spirit equally.
Maybe it was her tendency to sleep through the day that made the experience feel so magical, or maybe it was the comfortable silence she was able to enjoy. In an empty dream, she could have silence, she could lock away her thoughts and not worry about the negatives, but here she felt free to cast out her mind, to feel everything around her, and she had a stoic support through all of it.
When an immeasurable amount of time had passed in their impossible paradise, Macintosh turned to her. What Luna found odd was that he didn’t speak at first, but then, she found many things odd about him. When it seemed like an hour had passed in their frozen world and his lips remained still, slightly parted, Luna decided he needed a little encouragement. “Something on your mind?” she said, turning to face him with a wry smile, “I didn’t take you for a shy stallion.”
“Most often,” he grinned back, “but I wouldn’t say I’m timid either, miss.”
There it was again, that thing he did. “I have a question, actually. Why is it that you insist on calling me ‘miss’? You know of my role, know of my station, and know of my title. You would think that you would either call me ‘princess’ or just ‘Luna’.”
Macintosh made a short ‘tsk’ noize, but the laughter didn’t fully reach his eyes. “You’d let me call you by jus’ your name, huh?”
Well, I am encroaching on your dream, I suppose that’s only—hold on a second. “You’re dodging the question. Why do you call me it?”
“I’ve gotta say, that’s quite a funny thing you’re asking there. A lot of mares have asked me that same question in the past, and I reckon it’s ‘cause they’re so used to colts that ain’t got no manners. Me? I like to treat a mare with a little respect. My own grandmother is a miss to me, when she’s threatenin’ to tan my hide or what have you. She won’t take none of that ‘yes, granny’ in them situations either, it’s ‘miss’ every time. Tell me, if I use that term for my own family, why shouldn’t it be good ‘nough for you?”
It took Luna a few moments to recover from the words ‘a lot of mares’, but once she had, she sat there trying to process all the information she had been given. It didn’t take her long, but she soon realised that there was hardly a defence she could give without insulting his grandmother. She imagined that his family values were one of his greatest virtues. Rather than think up a riposte, she commented on the only thing she could. “I believe that’s the most words I’ve got out of you since I met you.”
Macintosh let loose a small chuckle, his eyes returning to the thriving farmland. “Tried asking me an open question up till now?”
Luna had to actively stop herself from tilting her head. “So that’s it? I’ve just not been asking the right questions?”
“I reckon so. Again, forgive my manners, but I don’t take you for a stupid mare, Miss Luna. I imagine you can infer my meanings without me wastin’ an hour blabberin’ on. ‘Sides, don’t hurt to be a bit of an economist with the spoken word.”
Luna’s brow furrowed as she thought over what he said. “I don’t see the problem? Surely one of the many wonderful things about language is that you’re able to communicate and express yourself freely, without limitation?”
Luna studied Macintosh on command, her eyes tracing his from, rippling with muscle and sinew beneath a soft fur. At first, she had considered him to be alert in his posture, his arched back suggesting that he could be back on his feet at a moment’s notice, but when she examined him more closely she found that not one of his muscles appeared taut. Despite his position, he looked truly relaxed. “It tells me that you’re used to working, as well as taking short breaks to recuperate.”
“But you could already guess that. What else?”
“Hmm…” Perhaps she was looking at this wrong, perhaps it was something more external? Luna surveyed the surroundings, briefly looking to herself and then back to Macintosh, who now seemed to sit about two paces from her. Suddenly, she jolted up, triumphant. “Aha! Proxemics! You are comfortable being close to me!”
“W-well, yeah, you could say that. I mean, it’s not what I was going for, but—”
“It matters not!” Luna grinned, hopping into the air and splaying her wings. “You are comfortable being close to me, and that means you like me!” Luna proceeded to swoosh around in the air overhead, gliding with a large grin on her face. “And I like you also!”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down.”
Luna’s flight slowed, as did her breath. “Is there a problem?”
“I ain’t sayin’ that. All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve just met ya now, and we ain’t even in the real world at this second. You seem like a nice mare, Miss Luna, most definitely, but I’d like to get to know you a little bit before we start proclaimin’ who ‘likes’ who, you hear?”
Feeling like an insufferable foal, Luna and her excitement returned to earth. “I-I believe you misunderstand, Macintosh. When I said ‘like’, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant ‘like’ as in ‘I like you in a platonic, friendly way’, that kind of like.”
A second of contemplation, and Macintosh appeared contented. “Like that, huh?”
“Yes, just like that,” Luna nodded.
“Glad we got that straightened out nice and easy.”
“As am I,” Luna nodded once more, the movement mechanical.
The pair quickly returned to silence. It had been a lie to say her feelings were purely platonic and Luna knew it. She could easily, unashamedly say that she felt attraction for Macintosh, and she had a vague idea of why. He was clearly smarter than he let on, and unlike most stallions he didn’t appear to offer every endearing feature he could musteron a plate in order to woo her. Whether it was his desired effect or not, this just made Luna believe that he was hiding some reasonably special traits from her, and made her equally eager to unearth them.
He had been polite, allowing her to stay in his dream without hassle, and even electing to join her on the hill, he had been interesting to talk to, as much for the things he didn’t say as the things he did, and to top it off he really was quite pleasant on the eyes.
Her reverie was broken by a jolt from Macintosh, who appeared to be alarmed. Looking at the field once more, she noticed that the details were beginning to appear vague.
“What’s happenin’?” he asked, something resembling fear in his eyes.
“Relax,” she returned, “You are beginning to wake. It is half past five, is that a usual waking hour for you?”
He did relax, almost instantly. “Sounds about right. I’m tending the fields by six.”
Luna had scarcely met a pony so calm and collected. In the past, when she had tried to explain this happening to other dreaming ponies, they had taken a great deal of consoling to calm, as their fabricated world began to fade. “It is a shame, I would have liked to stay here a time longer.”
“I take it you can’t stick around once I’ve gone, ‘cause I’ll take the dream with me?”
“As a matter of fact, that isn’t entirely the case.” Luna didn’t look at Macintosh when she spoke her next words, they felt unpleasant on her tongue. “I did not realise at first, but the dreamscape actually keeps an archive of each pony’s dream, meaning that I could go and visit this place again at any time, and it would be exactly as it has been.”
She could feel Macintosh’s eyes on her then, even as the dream began to slip further. “I feel there’s somethin’ foreboding in your tone there, Miss Luna. I assume there’s a problem with goin’ to these old dreams?”
Looking back to him, fighting the pained expression on her face in an effort to retain her composure, Luna nodded. “Everything will be the same. The dream would look the same, it would be the same length, and you would still be here. However, it wouldn’t really be you.”
It didn’t take long for him to catch on. “...It would be the same me that met you in them trees earlier, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have no recollection of what’s just occurred, would I?”
“That sounds…” For once, the stallion of few words seemed at a loss for one. His eyes widening, as if he had made some terrible realisation, his tone became sombre. “Harrowin’.”
Luna wished he had the slightest idea of just how painful such a thing could be. “Do you think you could—” she looked out to the fields, they barely retained their colour. The sun cast no light, and the dream’s expanse had been reduced to a fifth of its previous span. “Could you stay? This has been so short, and—”
Macintosh looked at the floor, rather than her. “I’m sorry, miss. I think I’m already wakin’. I can feel myself stirrin’. I’ve gotta go do my job.”
“Not just for a little longer?” Luna all but pleaded, the prospect of a bit more time the only goal to strive for. With a burst of her magic, the dream was almost perfect once more. “Look, I have fixed it. Surely you could stay but fifteen minutes more?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Luna, but I’ve gotta get up. I got family relyin’ on me to do my job properly. It’s been swell meetin’ you though, I wouldn’t mind doin’ it again sometime.”
“You… You wouldn’t?”
“I’ll dream again, won’t I?” he smiled then, his eyes bright, and like that he was gone, as were the fields, the sun, the trees, the lone apple, and even the hill she had sat upon.
It was all so sudden, so quickly she had been cast into the blackness without warning, even if she had felt it creeping up on her long ago. Instantly, she ended her spell, finding herself standing on her balcony, tears liberally streaming down her face.
Wiping her eyes, she clambered into bed, feeling the exhaustion hit her at once. Placing the same barriers around her mind as she had been for days now, she feel into an empty sleep, though the wistful feeling never fully faded.
When Celestia had tried to wake her the next afternoon, she had protested. When she had made true her previous promise and poured a cup of water over her, she had laid still, allowing herself to be soaked. When Celestia expressed legitimate concern, she finally left her mental cocoon and did everything she could to placate her sister. She lied, telling her that she was having a wonderful dream that she didn’t wish to wake from, not daring to express her attempts to protect herself.
When she had cast her spell, too quickly did she consider relapsing. Once the immediate nightmares had been taken care of, Luna shirked her duties to find one of many particular dreams, one she was extremely familiar with. When she arrived, she sat perched on the edge of its memory, considering invading once more. The once familiar surroundings, the mare that sat inside awaiting her, it was all so inviting, but equally false.
It was a memory, it was nothing more than a memory, and that’s all it would ever be. Going there wouldn’t change anything, it would only serve to send her back to square one, and she wouldn’t fuel her obsession any longer. Still, as much as she knew it was in her power, she couldn’t bring herself to purge these dreams from the dreamscape, it was too much.
Returning to her duties, she cast away bad dreams with impunity, not taking the time to weave more pleasant scenarios into them, but stifling them all together until they became nothing. Some ponies wouldn’t dream that night, but it was better than having a nightmare, surely.
Once she had stolen her fair share of horrors and frights, Luna simply sat, monitoring the conduits between the waking world and this realm, watching as ponies fell into slumber and their dreams floated by.
Minutes turned to hours, and still not once did she see the same farm from the night previous. Had Macintosh ceased to dream? Had he and his farm chosen to abandon her?
That was irrational. It was ten by now, surely he was asleep somewhere, she would just have to seek him out. Casting her mind about the dreamscape, she searched for a pony that matched his energy patterns. It took a little time, but she found what she was looking for.
When she reached the dream, she had to check to be sure it was the same Macintosh she had met before, the dream didn’t seem fitting whatsoever. Still, her eyes rarely lied, nor did her magic, and after a time she concluded that despite how unlikely it seemed, she had in fact stumbled across Macintosh’s dream.
John Apple Macintosh looked out at the bustling city of Manehatten from his office chair, a small smile on his muzzle. Before him, a mass of papers sat, lines and scrawls painted across from impossibly scruffy mouthwriting. He would have called it his own codex if asked, as he knew his cursive was barely legible to anyone but himself, but that would just be an attempt to save face, he truly couldn’t write neatly to save his life.
Taking his eyes from the large, oval window, he proceeded to run numbers on an investment deal he was planning to propose to his consortium by the end of the quarter. As he tackled a particularly difficult sum, his concentration was broken by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. When he saw who was on the other side of the door, he relaxed somewhat. “Can I help, Cottage?”
His secretary smiled, shaking her head. “No, sir, but there is someone to see you. Said her name was Lulinetta, unicorn mare.”
“Right, no problem. You just go an’ send her in, then you take yourself a little breather, you’ve been up and down like a rabbit on a pogo stick today.”
“Yes, sir, thank you. I’ll send her in right away.” Cottage happily trotted away, leaving Macintosh alone with his thoughts.
Lulinetta? Where have I heard that name before? He sat and he thought, but nothing came to him. When he had just about given up, the door opened once more, and a pony that was unmistakably Princess Luna strode through, dressed in a slender green coat that hid her wings.
He knew it was Princess Luna because he remembered it from yesterday’s dream. The dream he had been having about being on the farm… Because he still lived on the farm, and none of this was real. It took only a second for the illusion to be shattered; Big Macintosh was no more a businesspony living in Manehatten than he was a minotaur. Suddenly in tune with his thoughts and memories, he was unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved by the fact.
Luna cut off his thoughts with a smile, gesturing out of the large window, pausing to take in the view. “This is stunning… And not what I imagined I’d find here at all.”
“I did say I had other dreams,” Big Macintosh offered, his reply almost curt.
“You did…” Luna trailed off, laughing a little to herself. “You know, we do have to stop meeting like this...” she seemed to eye the nameplate on his desk, “Mr. Macintosh,” she winked.
He Who Holds the World in His Head
Luna’s gaze quickly went back to the window, the surreal splendor of the tall buildings and the sight of ponies from so far below felt similar to what she was only used to witnessing on her own balcony. It took her a few moments to look back to Macintosh, who looked reasonably uncomfortable despite her joy and confusion. “This view is magnificent… Once again, I’m awed by the power of your recollection.”
“Afraid you’re mistaken, Miss Luna,” Macintosh replied, his voice soft, “I ain’t never been far into Manehatten.”
Luna’s muzzle hung open, there was no way. “You mean to say that you imagined all of this?”
“I’ve seen pictures,” he replied, “and my sister told me a fair amount ‘bout the city, and I’ve read up on it quite a bit. My mind probably just filled in the blanks.”
“Still…” Luna shook her head, still recovering from the revelation, “This is unprecedented! To think, this dream looks almost as lifelike as your last one, but it is all a product of your thoughts!”
Macintosh only nodded, sitting straighter in his seat.
“This means…” Luna trailed off, casting her eyes around the room before settling on the stallion, who she now noticed was suit-clad, “You really have spent a lot of time fantasising about this, have you not?”
Macintosh’s eyes seemed to harden; it was an unpleasant sight. When he spoke, she could hear a gruff cadence to his words, his snout seemed to flare as he exhaled. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but I don’t really see that it’s your place to be askin’ me that. I said you could stay on the farm with me, I said you could visit me again. I never said you could start interrogatin’ me on my personal thoughts, now did I?”
Luna felt her head bow from his words, almost instinctually. It was strange, she wasn’t used to having that reaction to anyone, usually her commanding presence was superseded only by Celestia, but this stallion’s disdain was powerful, almost tangible. Murmuring, she looked up to find his judging eyes. “I am sorry, I did not mean to presume. I’m afraid I may have got a little bit excited upon my discovery, I do not mean to pry.”
A short nod was all she received in return. Luna was torn. On one hoof, Macintosh was clearly somewhere between mildly irritated and greatly furious, but she couldn’t tell which. On the other, she had grown accustomed to silence in his presence. Rather than try to strike another conversation, she resigned herself to staring out of the window, taking in the city she might have sworn was as expansive as it appeared if not for her knowledge that it was make-belief.
After some time, she felt a presence near her. She still said nothing, and together the pair looked out upon the cacophonous activity, the fictitious denizens. She admired the architecture, unlike anything she had seen in another city, and upon greater focus found there to be a building even taller than the one they were in, standing majestically in the distance, an iron sentinel to guard the ponies below.
“I have thought about this a lot.”
In her daydreams, Luna had almost forgotten the preceding conversation. Rather than turning, she continued to stare out, finding wonder after wonder to mix in with her swirling thoughts. “About being a businesspony?”
“‘Bout being more than the perceived sum of my upbringin’. This dream comes to me ‘cause it’s easy, it’s linear, it’s logical, and I know ‘bout runnin’ a business.”
“I assume this isn’t the only one you have then?”
“It ain’t. The farm’s the most common though. We dream ‘bout the things we’re most familiar with, right?”
“While this is true,” Luna began, “many ponies also dream of the fantastic. With your imagination, I’m sure there are ceaseless possibilities. You could soar through the air, visit to exotic places, be a king for a day.”
“I don’t want none of that,” he answered.
Luna turned to see only a straight jaw, and one eye trained on the pavement below.
“That stuff ain’t gonna do me no good. I already go a lot of places, I ain’t got no place in the sky, and I definitely ain’t no king.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that during my struggle with the tantibus, you envisioned yourself as an alicorn?”
“Well, I figured what’s both powerful and feasible? Naturally it was my first conclusion.”
It was so straightforward, so premeditated. The way Macintosh answered questions, it felt as if he had the answers written down, ready to pluck from thin air at a moment’s notice. “Are you saying you think you could become an alicorn?”
“Can’t anyone?” Macintosh answered. “What’s it mean to be an alicorn, anyway? I don’t think I’d wanna be one.”
Luna couldn’t help but see that as an odd question. What did it mean to be an alicorn? “I cannot say that I have considered it in a very long time… But I once believed it to mean that a pony was strong and pure of spirit, selfless and loving.”
Macintosh turned to face her, his face pensive. “And you don’t think that no more?”
“...I have proven that is not the case with my past actions.”
“And there’s the reason I think I’d pass,” Macintosh sighed, “I couldn’t walk around purporting to be a noble god or anythin’ like that, or let ponies treat me as one either. Deep down, I’d know that I was a pony, just like everypony else, and that bein’ an alicorn didn’t make me all good, or anythin’ like that.”
“Then what do you wish to be?” Luna asked. Her curiosity was powerful by now.
“Remembered, I think.”
Luna’s head tilted by instinct. She regarded Macintosh with wide eyes. How could a pony so self-assured be so unsure? “You mean to say you don’t know? I find it hard to believe that you have a vanity complex.”
Macintosh’s gaze didn’t stray from Luna, his mouth barely moved when he spoke, as if the words he produced were difficult for him to say aloud. “Truth is, I don’t know what I want. I’ve got a remarkable family, and I’ve always loved them with all my heart, but heavens know they outshine me at every turn. They don’t mean to do it either, bless ‘em, but they do. Granny was one of the settlers of Ponyville, and she’s so old, we don’t even know when she was born. She’s a bit of a legend around our parts, and she seems to know ponies from jus’ ‘bout everywhere.”
Luna wasn’t sure how she felt about Macintosh’s words, but she could tell they were earnest, he meant what he said. To think that such an incredible pony could be outshined by his entire family was astounding, but the mundanity of his work life did lend credence to that notion.
Macintosh didn’t even appear to be speaking to her now. He looked past her, something vaguely resembling resentment dancing in her eyes. It was a feeling Luna had once known well. “Applejack is one of the most important ponies in Equestria, and she’s still humble, still gets on with her life, don’t ask for no special favours. I deeply respect that, but truthfully the fact she found time to become a great hero like that makes no sense to me. Even my kid sister went and started her own business venture! Know what I do? I do what I’ve done my whole dagnabbed life, buck apples, haul apples, sell apples, and do the accounts. I do three quarters of our yearly harvest myself, and I take most of the other jobs too.”
Macintosh almost appeared to be seething right now, and Luna could understand why. If there was anything Luna could relate to, it was living in the shadow of one’s sister. For her it was more, she was literally the shadow to her sister’s light, the night to her day. Still, seeing such emotion from the stolid stallion was enough to stir her own upset, and she hoped she could calm him somehow. “Surely you do other things when you aren’t working?” she asked, her tone delicate, “You have have friends, hobbies?”
“Heh, you show me where the stallions my age in Ponyville congregate and I’ll be there in a flash. Honestly, I spend most of my alone time with a book, only other company is a young dragon.” Macintosh started to chuckle to himself. “He’s into this fantasy game, Ogres and Oubliettes, it’s called. Hate to admit it, but I’ve found myself pretty partial to the thing. Nice to escape from the farm life once in awhile, even if it is a silly fantasy.”
The only connection Luna could draw between this admission and herself was her tendency to be another pony in dreams, from time to time. Even then, she was often doing it to help the dreamer, but she had often found that being someone else could be quite liberating. “It may not be ideal, but it is something. Some ponies do not have the chance for even that release.”
“What ‘bout yourself?” Macintosh focused on her, his eyes intense, “What’d you do in your downtime?”
“My… Downtime?” Luna’s face twisted as she repeated the new, alien word.
“Yeah, when you ain’t raising the moon, or working with dreams.”
“Well...” Luna racked her brain, trying to think of a reasonable response. Eventually, one came to her. “I occasionally have other royal duties, and once a month I host the Night Court, in the remainder, I find myself sleeping.”
“That’s it?” Macintosh asked, his tone questioning, “No relaxation, no fun?”
Luna’s face darkened. “My station rarely affords such frivolities, I’m afraid.”
“Well, how long do you spend asleep?”
“Roughly twelve hours a night. I patrol the dreamscape for another eight.”
Macintosh raised an eyebrow. “That only makes twenty hours. Not only that, but d’you really need to be sleeping that long? I mean, I can’t say how tirin’ your job is, havin’ never done it myself, but I can’t imagine you need all that rest every night.”
Luna couldn’t help but cast her eyes to the floor. She had yet to explain the same thing to Celestia, but it was a difficult topic to broach. “It is… Hard to explain.”
“I mean, you’ve been visitin’ me the last couple nights, can’t imagine you’re still workin’ right now. What did you do in that time before you started comin’ to me?”
Luna hoped a short response would suffice.“Until recently, I frequented other dreams.”
“Friends of yours?” he asked.
“Indirectly,” she breathed, feeling a familiar quake in her legs all the same.
Macintosh was silent for a while, and while Luna was still intent on unravelling more about the stallion, she hoped he would not push the topic further.
“Are they old friends, Miss Luna?” he asked, his voice soothingly gentle, “Can you not see them in the waking world no more?”
A shudder struck through her body, her jaw locked. It was as if his voice alone was enough to draw a small affirmation from her, her head lightly dipping as she focused on her breathing.
“Presence of a dream is infinite, right?” he pressed, placing a strong but equally soft hoof on her back as she shivered in place. “That’s what you told me, Miss Luna.”
Shaking from the contact, Luna’s eyes settled on him once more. “Macintosh… I…”
He offered only a small smile. It was a simple, honest thing, something she could trust. “It’s alright, Miss Luna, I’ll listen.”
“All of my friends are dead…” the words washed out of her like a torrent of anguish, she was sure it was her first time speaking them aloud. “All of them, all gone. I hadn’t too many to begin with, but I… I remember them so well,” a sniffle, she felt a sob pierce her fading placidity as grief swiftly took over, “And I had a long time to get over that… A t-thousand years to come to terms with my actions, that I had abandoned them all, turned my backs on them.”
Blinking fiercely in an effort to fight away her oncoming tears, she spoke again. “When I was welcomed back into Equestria, I thought I was over it. I had a loving sister by my side again, I had all but conquered my demons, and I had six saviours to owe my eternal thanks to. I began to feel normal again, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time… I still felt guilt, but I knew deep in my heart that I couldn’t turn back time.”
Luna could feel how grave her tone was, she could almost sense the negative energy her thoughts and lamentations brought about, but she still spoke, revealing thoughts she had carried in solitude for years, some of them for millennia. Somehow, this stallion had been able to pull from her in a handful of words what her own sister had not managed to with millions. “Exploring the dreamscape, I learnt of the eternal nature of dreams. There, my friends remained, interactive ghosts for me to play with whenever I fancied, a way for me to pretend that I was somewhere I was not.”
Soon, it was loathing that spoke for her. “I became addicted. It was morbid, it was pathetic. Each night, once I had finished my duties, I would spend hours in the same dreams, living the same fantasies over and over, until eventually, it began to affect my own dreams, my waking thoughts too. I have been tormented by figments of the past, but the temptation is so great, I want to go back… I—”
Luna wasn’t so much interrupted as forced to stop speaking due to a sharp gasp. She looked down to find Macintosh had wrapped a hoof over her barrel, pulling her tight, and was beginning to stroke her mane from the other side. Gently, he eased her down to sitting, and together they laid as Luna finally let her tears free.
For a long time, she sobbed, and Macintosh did nothing but hold her tight, continuing to placate her. He didn’t speak, he didn’t offer condolences, he offered no empty words, likely because he knew that they would mean nothing. He had never been in Luna’s position, he couldn’t empathise with her, he could only try to understand the pain she had endured.
Luna felt that, she knew that once again she had had to be saved, and once again another pony had put their time into ensuring that she could vent her deepest desolation, only this time, it had worked. When Luna had cried until no more tears came, her heart felt lighter for having done so, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a very long time, not since banishing the tantibus, or seeing her sister again after so many years.
It was as if Macintosh knew, because right as she had this small epiphany, he spoke again. “I know you must be confused, Miss Luna, and I know that this must be difficult for you, but maybe I can help you through it. I think me and you could do a lot of good for each other, you hear?”
Her eyes red, she caught that same, vaguely affectionate smile she had seen only once before now. “I worry that I would drag you down into the same woes, that I would ruin you.”
At this, Macintosh grinned, and heavens was it infectious. “I think you’d have a tough job, Miss Luna, but you’re welcome to try.”
Maybe it was impulse. Maybe it was her fragile emotions. Maybe it was her attraction. All Luna knew was that in the breadth of a second, she found her lips brushing against Macintosh’s.
It was a soft, but equally powerful kiss. Chaste, but powerful, if a kiss could be such a thing. The electricity of the contact seemed to sap the last of the doubt from Luna’s mind; this was where she was meant to be, at least for now, by this pony’s side.
When she withdrew, she saw what appeared to be smug, satisfied smirk on Macintosh’s muzzle. “Reckon it counts when we’re in a dream?”
“I must admit,” Luna smiled despite herself, “it did feel quite real.”
“Maybe we should keep that fact in mind, eh?” Macintosh grinned.
“I’d rather cement the deal in person, in all honesty.”
“Not like you’re ever awake durin’ the day, think I should wait up for you?”
Luna’s smile only grew, even when she saw that the dream around her was about to lose its integrity. “You know, I think I’ll sleep rather well tonight, actually.”
The ponies on the streets were now barely visible, unfocused things, and the city’s buildings were increasingly monochromatic. “That so?” Macintosh chuckled as his office disappeared. The two of them sat at a window to the centre of their earth, even as it fell apart around them, both only glad to have each other there.
Luna leaned over, softly grazing Macintosh’s freckled cheek with her lips, before moving up to his ear. She whispered, “Goodnight, Macintosh, enjoy your morning,” and rose on light wings, turning to leave as the stallion woke once more.
As she gained distance, her playful spirit awake and encouraging her not to look back, she was sure she heard the words: “G’night yourself, Lulinetta. Sweet dreams.”
When Luna returned to her body, ending her dream-walking spell in the process, she made a beeline straight for her bed, merrily humming all of the way.
That night, she slept without barriers, and was rewarded with pleasant dreams centred around her last two nights, though the details were mismatched and vague. She didn’t mind that, however, as she had time now, plenty of time to forge new and permanent experiences with the pony called Macintosh, he who had untethered her from her distress and allowed her to feel free once more.
She slept for a full eight hours, rising at half-past twelve in the afternoon, long before Celestia would come knocking. By the time Celestia came to wake her, she would already have returned.
For now, however, she would visit the shops and pick out a dress. She had a stallion to impress, after all, and it was good to make a first impression, even if you had debatably met him thrice already.
