Sweet Dreams, LLP

Chapters

This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 1
This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 2
This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 3
The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 1
The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 2
Perspective
Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 1
Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 2
Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 3
The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 3

This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 1

It is hard to run away from timberwolves.

Strange words for an introduction, I know, but a valuable piece of information nevertheless, I feel I should divulge. It might just save your life one day.

You see, this is not some unguided opinion about a timberwolf’s insatiable ability to chase you down and gobble you up, but scientific fact. So here it is again for you ponies that are little daft in the head or if you happen to be a slightly narcissistic baby dragon: timberwolves are very hard to run away from. If you find yourself stumbling upon one in the wilderness, it is this author’s opinion that you are much better off curling up on the ground and awaiting the inevitable. If you run, you’ll only die tired.

If you—whoever has the misfortune of stumbling upon this tale—should know anything at all about timberwolves, it should be that a fully-grown timberwolf can sprint up to twenty-two miles per hour. If you’re still doing the mental math, let me just say that it is much faster than anypony can run. And unless you’re a pegasus, there is little hope to evade a pursuing timberwolf at such speeds.

However, dear reader, there is one trick this author has learned to always, nearly one hundred percent of the time, successfully out-pace a timberwolf, which I will now give to you free of charge.

—You only have to be faster than the pony that you are with.

Really, it’s that simple. And it is a very versatile concept, too; just about anything can fit into the ‘slower pony’ category. These can include, but are not limited to: a colt-scout troop camping nearby, naturists, your local ranger, whoever those yuppies are that go “glamping”, or even your piece of shit neighbor, Doug, who you knowingly convinced to go hiking in timberwolf territory because he keeps leaving his garbage cans out past trash day. You hate Doug.

You might be thinking at this point, unfortunate reader, that this story is only about timberwolves.

You would be wrong.

This story is about many things—dreams, inner workplace conflicts, highly illegal and unsanctioned therapeutic treatments, nightmares, and the brave ponies that fight them. It’s about the subconscious and its most profound desires, secretly guiding our waking world with its unseen hooves from deep inside each of us. It’s a story of many characters and creatures, but if this author had to choose one in particular, he would say it mostly revolves around Bright Shine.

So this is Bright Shine’s story, an unalluring ramble if there ever was one. It is a tale of anxiety, night terrors, uncovered medical expenses, and the overwhelming thought of sleep.

And also timberwolves.

You see, unfortunately for Bright Shine, he was very alone with nary a chubby companion nor a colt-scout troop in sight to aid in his escape from the pair of hungry timberwolves hot in pursuit.

“No, no, no!” Bright Shine puffed, gasping for breath as he weaved through the treacherous, dark forest, narrowly dodging trees and leaping over puddles of sucking mud. “This can’t be happening. I can’t get mauled, not here,” he cried. “I can’t afford to be mauled. My rent is due!”

The pair of lumbering wolves, however, paid no attention to the terrified wails of economic strife spouted by the sweaty pony fleeing their snapping jaws. Because a timberwolf has no concept of rent or Equestria’s woefully unbalanced healthcare system.

“I’ve got to get out of this forest,” Bright Shine said with a whimper, his hooves sliding in the muck as he rounded a stump. The wolves were only inches behind him. He could smell their fetid breath, hot and moist, washing over the nape of his neck. “Where even am I?” he wondered, trying to grasp his bearings as he pushed his legs harder, willing them to put more distance between him and the splintered jaws closing around him. Everything felt misplaced, and he had no recollections of his surroundings, the brooding forest with its impenetrable canopy. His head was spinning, his thoughts roiling in confusion. “How did I even get here?”

“Can’t quite remember how this started, can you, Bright Shine?” the voice leapt out at him.

“AHH!” Bright Shine fell to the ground in a balletic tumble of flying hooves, his face carving a clean rut through the dirt. He narrowly missed the tall, blue figure blocking his path.

He shook his head, spitting dirt and pebbles from his mouth, his eyes following the elegantly shod hooves before him upward.

“Ohh, that looked like it hurt,” the mysterious blue mare cooed, staring down at him struggling to his hooves. “Having a little trouble finding your bearings tonight, are we? Well, I wouldn’t take too long though,” she said, turning toward from where he had come. “They’re catching up,” she remarked, calmly watching the ravenous wolves bounding towards them. “Huh, timberwolves,” she said as if commenting on a turn of the weather. “Haven’t seen that one in a while.”

“Who? What?” Bright Shine muttered through the pounding in his head. But there was no time for questions. “Hey, HEY!” he cried, drunkenly stumbling backward. “You have to run! T-timberwolves!”

“Hehe, I know, right,” the mare chuckled, oblivious to the twin beasts barreling toward them. “It’s funny, right, normally everypony who has timberwolves has been mauled by this point. But you—you’ve managed to last this long. Usually I end up popping in during mid-mauling.”

She seemed to pause at this, lifting a shod hoof to scratch her delicate chin in some deep contemplation. “Always hard to get a word in over the screams, though.”

But he was already gone, Bright Shine taking off through the dark forest, leaving the crazy mare to her fate. He wasn’t about to sit around to be eaten. If anything, he hoped the timberwolves would partake of the stranger instead of him. Why would such a mare be all the way out here anyway? he wondered. And why did he have the uneasy feeling he recognized the blue mare from somewhere?

“Just focus,” he told himself, shaking away any thought of the peculiar stranger. Snagging vines tore at his every step, the brambles scratching his coat and clawing at his flank. “There has to be a way out of here.”

If he had lost the wolves, he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t about to stop to be check if they were still on his trail. “If only I knew how I got here?” he puffed, sucking in great gulps of air. But his memory kept coming up blank. Had he been out drinking? he asked himself. “It’s almost like a bad dream.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere, Bright Shine,” the familiar voice leapt out, directly in his path.

Though Bright Shine’s mouth had opened to let out another startled scream, that scream found its exit blocked by a mouthful of sod as the unfortunate slate-colored earth pony was sent for a momentous tumble.

He hadn’t seen the ravine.

Over and over he rolled, choking and gagging with each breath that was knocked out of him, his hooves flailing as he fell down the embankment. Bright Shine landed with a heavy thud at the bottom of the steep ravine, his fall thankfully cushioned by his spine on a very sharp and very hard boulder sticking out of the ground.

“Owww.”

The words slipped through his slit and bruised lips, eliciting a deep howl in response from the top of the ravine. The timberwolves had picked up the trail.

Bright Shine landed in a heap as he slid from the boulder. Scrambling as fast as he could, he pressed himself against the rock as he heard the sound of claws sliding down the ravine.

They were close, and he was stuck with nowhere to go. His cover was yards away from the tree line, smack in the center of a small clearing. The wolves would be on him like a fat colt on cake the instant he made a break for the trees.

As slowly as he could, Bright Shine peeked a wide, bleary eye around the boulder. The timberwolves were closing in, the pair sniffing the ground as they picked up his scent. He only hoped they weren’t very hungry. Maybe they had eaten the blue mare; perhaps they would be too full to maul him.

“You know it’s only a matter of time before they find you.”

Bright Shine stifled another scream, practically leaping out of his skin.

“What, it’s true,” the blue mare who had inexplicably appeared behind him said, shrugging her wings. “Maybe if you didn’t sweat so much they wouldn’t be able to track you. Jeez, you’re a greasy fellow,” she sneered, her eyes wandering over his sweat-soaked coat. “Is it a glandular condition or something?”

“Sh-sh-sh!” he pleaded, the comment slipping by him. “Be quiet, they’ll hear you.” This mare was going to get them both killed.

“Fascinating,” she beamed, grabbing his aching head with her cold hooves, twisting it back and forth as she probed over his bruised melon. “You’ve sustained so much trauma and you still haven’t woken up. You’d be a perfect candidate!” she exclaimed, her horn and eyes alighting with eagerness.

“Ca-candidate? Woken up?” Bright Shine swiveled his eyes, his head still locked in the stranger’s iron grip.

“The words are on the tip of your tongue, aren’t they? Come on, Bright Shine. Use your words,” she encouraged,as if talking to a foal.

“Dream? I’m dreaming?” The words were unsure, a weight that rolled off the end of his tongue.

“Finally. Very good!” the cobalt mare shouted with glee, grabbing his shoulders. “It took you long enough. Here, take my card,” she offered, pressing a small piece of paper into his hooves. “Come by our office as soon as you’re available, which gauging from what is happening outside, I don’t expect will be very long. Tough luck with the job by the way,” she added. “I hope the severance package is good.”

Bright Shine looked over the card in his hooves. It was about the size of a business card.

Sweet Dreams, LLP

“Hey, what is this?” he asked, his mind still reeling from the strange mare’s revelation. Dreaming? This was all a dream? “There isn’t even an address or contact here,” he said, flipping it over. “And why do I have the feeling I’ve seen you before?”

When he looked up, the mysterious mare was gone, vanished into thin air. Instead, in her place, two hungry timberwolves licked their oaken chops eagerly on either side of him. Their chase had worked up quite an appetite. Bright Shine could feel their rancid breath washing over his face, their green eyes lighting him in their glow.

“Now would be a really good time to wake up,” Bright Shine chuckled nervously. “She said this was all a dream, right. And I can’t get hurt in a dream,” he reminded himself assuredly.

One wolf replied with a deep growl, the rumble resonating from its gaping maw that stretched before him, beckoning of what was to come.

“You’re just a dream,” he told the wolf, taking another step back. “Any minute now, I’ll wake up.” Bright Shine gulped. “Any minute.”

Luckily for Bright Shine, it was only three minutes into the mauling when the blue mare returned.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she apologized profusely as she popped back into the dream in a flurry of fiery particles. “Almost forgot the timberwolves—the mauling and whatnot,” she said, her words drowned out by Bright Shine’s screams as the first wolf had a second go at tossing him like a ragdoll in its jaws.

“Wake me up!” Bright Shine screamed over the mauling. “Sweet fires of Tartarus, wake me up! They won’t stop!”

“Hold still, just hold still!” the mare shouted, aiming her horn at him. She danced restlessly on her hooves. “You must be a very heavy sleeper.”

“How can I hold still? They’re using me as a freaking chew toy!”

“Just try not to move. If you do this will hurt—a lot,” she warned, tracking Bright Shine in the wolf’s mouth with her horn.

“Wait, what?! What are you doing?”

“Waking you up.”

BLAM!

“Bright Shine!”

“Huh? What!” The stallion bolted up at his desk, a thin sliver of drool trailing down over piles of unsorted mail, mail he still hadn’t sorted since the goggley-eyed mail pony had dropped it off that morning. “B-boss,” Bright Shine gurgled sleepily as he rubbed his dark-rimmed eyes to the dimly lit mailroom of Fetlock Financial. “I was just about to—”

The pony in bright red suspenders shook his head, his thinning mane whipping in the humid air of the mailroom. “Save it, Bright Shine. This is the fourth time this week,” he sighed. “And the last time for that matter.”

This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 2

There are several things in life that are worse than being fired: quite a few actually.

For example, you could be trapped in an ancient Tenochtitlan temple with no way out.

Or one might find themselves caught off guard by a rogue breezie attack that sweeps through the village as you sleep (I know I still have nightmares).

Or perhaps you could be an unfortunate author, struggling to remember where he saved his last draft after a night of Sweet Apple Acres cider and enthusiastic debauchery in Las Pegasus.

To sum things up, always remember that there are probably far worse experiences to be had than whatever trial or tribulation you are enduring. Except for Bright Shine that is—because not only had he just been fired, he had just missed the bus.

“Wait, wait!” the stallion cried out as the bus pulled away from the corner stop, the wagon kicking up a cloud of dust as it left Bright Shine puffing breathlessly in its wake.

His saddlebag of meager possessions, the contents of his work locker, slid from his back as he struggled to regain his breath from his mad dash for the bus. It would be an hour before the next bus arrived, the last one of the day in fact. If he missed that one, it would be a night-long hike across Canterlot to reach the dingy little apartment tucked against the cliffs that he called home—a very empty apartment as of late. Snowberry had already moved all of her things out. The last he heard, she was staying with a friend in Baltimare.

“Great,” Bright Shine grumbled, chomping on his saddlebags and collapsing onto the ratty bus stop bench. The metal bench elicited a groan, something sticky tugging at his coat. The air under the gum-coated roof was tinged with the smell of sun-baked urban filth, the clear siding of the shelter splattered with some unidentifiable substance covered in a carpet of mold.

“As if my day was supposed to get any easier.” Bright Shine released a sigh as he rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes. The dreams and sleeplessness were only getting worse; he wasn’t sure how much longer it could possibly go on. He had tried the usual solutions: the teas, pills, even meditation, suggested by the pony of the herbal tea shop with the nasty long mane woven into thick dreadlocks.

Except none of them had helped in the slightest. And now his sleep troubles had cost him his job, no matter how shitty it might have been.

Bright Shine fanned himself in the sweltering Canterlot sun, Celestia’s heavenly body pummeling him and the rest of the capital with its staggering rays even though it was well into the afternoon. The day was unbearably hot, beads of thick sweat dribbling from Bright Shine’s coat as he caught his breath beneath the bus stop shelter. Hardly anypony was out in this heat; the streets were practically empty. Almost empty, that was.

The only other pony stupid enough to be out in the heat was positioned on the opposite corner. Bright Shine wondered at first if there was something terribly wrong with the mare; the pegasus was as if caught in an epileptic attack. She flailed her hooves in the air, her wings keeping her a few inches above the no doubt scorching pavement. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes.

Perhaps the boiling sun had cooked her brain, he wondered. That was until Bright Shine noticed the sign twirling in her hooves.

“Uhh,” Bright Shine sneered with disgust, a shudder passing over him. “A sign spinner.”

This author is not sure if everypony reading this horrible collection of words and phrases knows what a sign spinner is. If you don’t, allow me to enlighten you. You won’t find these strange creatures except in most urban centers of dense population or along routes with high hoof traffic.

A sign spinner, to simplify the definition, is a pony paid to be advertising. Now, usually this means standing out on the sidewalk with a flimsy sign promoting a local business.

But standing on a street corner with a sign will get you undoubtedly very little attention. There are always crazy ponies on the streets with signs proclaiming the end is neigh, or that the Princesses are space lizards in disguise out to conquer the world. No, you need to distinguish your advertisement from the rest of the loonies.

So what is a sign spinner to do to garner the attention of those with bits to spend? Why, that would—apparently—mean waving their sign like a mad pony, spinning it and twirling it so hard it makes ponies’ heads hurt. All the while they act like it’s the best day of their life despite twirling a flimsy sign in Tartarian heat, all in an attempt to get ponies to buy a shitty product or sign up for a wretched multi-level marketing scheme. This is why Bright Shine (and this author included) hated sign spinners.

Noticing she had caught the attention of a potential consumer, the spinner turned her display toward the glaring stallion. “Hey guy!” she called out, her voice unnaturally chipper for the grueling heat.

Why is it that they always seem way too excited to be spinning a plastic cutout?

“That bench sure does look uncomfortable,” the spinner remarked, spinning her sign above her head.

“Um...yeah,” Bright Shine said quickly, hoping to avoid any sort of interaction with the pegasus. He was in no mood to be persuaded into buying whatever she was pushing.

“I bet you wish you had a nice, soft sofa under you right now,” the spinner continued, now flipping her advertisement end over end, catching it each time with the tip of a wing before tossing it again. “Doncha think a sofa would be much better than that hard bench?”

“The bench is fine. I don’t need a sofa,” he called back, hoping to wave her off.

Instead, she flipped the sign in her hooves over with great flourish, shaking it in his direction.

Quills and Sofas

“We’ve got a great selection just down the block.” She gestured with the sign down the street. “Our autumnal style selection is now ten percent off when you purchase a bulk pack of quills.”

“I’m good,” he reiterated, stealing a look toward the clock tower. “I already have a sofa at home.” The next bus was an hour away. He was almost sure it would be faster to hike home across Canterlot, no short distance. The busses were always late.

“Are you sure?” the spinner pushed, lifting off and hovering over the corner as she continued twirling her sign. “We have installment plans available if you’re looking to expand your collection. We now have couches!” she exclaimed as if it were the second coming of Starswirl.

That was all Bright Shine needed to hear. Quickly standing up from the bench with a tired groan, he turned to collect his things. “Forget this,” he grumbled, rubbing his aching eyes. “I’ll just walk.”

But as Bright Shine quickly gathered his saddlebags, and the spinner rambled about their rewards program, he was stopped by a familiar advertisement displayed on the wall of the bus stop. Had that always been there?

Sweet Dreams, LLP

“Sweet Dreams, LLP—I’ve seen that before,” he mused, probing his memory. It was as if it were on the tip of his tongue, some recollection of where he had seen the name before. What little he recalled was fuzzy, less of a recollection, but a feeling he had of déjà vu.

“Your dream therapy center of downtown Canterlot,” he continued to read. “Feeling tired? Are constant nightmares keeping you up? Got bits? Dr. L can help you achieve a sound night’s sleep—no appointment needed.”

Dream therapy? He had never heard of such a treatment before. To Bright Shine, he guessed it couldn’t hurt to take a look. The address listed was close by, only a block or two away. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose. Besides, it would give him some time away from the sign spinner until the next bus arrived.

The address listed on the bus stop took Bright Shine deeper into the older parts of Canterlot, a messy block of deteriorating warehouses, run-down strip malls, and abandoned industrial complexes rusting down to their foundations. The district was frankly an eyesore, Bright Shine and most other Canterlot citizens avoiding the area entirely. Crime was an everpresent issue, and gangs of diamond dogs had been rumored to mug those ponies unfortunate enough to be caught out in the open after dark.

The sidewalk was covered in widening cracks, the concrete beneath his hooves crumbling from years of neglect from the road crews. A few mares stood waiting patiently on the other side of the street and music, a deep throb of bass, could be heard nearby. The mares, their faces painted with garish makeup, eyed him hungrily.

“What kind of therapy center would set up shop out here?” he wondered.

“Looking for some company, sugar?” one of the mares called, a tall chestnut sporting a tight dress of shiny material. “You look lonely. I could give you a discount.” She cracked a grin, showing off her grey smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Bright Shine coughed. Had that mare’s voice seemed deep? And was that an Adam’s apple peeking out from the sequin-studded ribbon around her neck?

Bright Shine picked up his pace. He was having second thoughts about this. He could use some help with his sleeplessness and the dreams, but he was more concerned about being shot or mugged or catching some carnal disease than stopping a few random nightmares.

Just before he was going to cave and head back for the relative safety of the bus stop, and the unwelcomed advances of the sign spinner, Bright Shine rounded the corner and saw the place. It was not what he was expecting.

Sweet Dreams, LLP the cracked backlit sign read, half of the letters burnt out.

“Well this can’t be right,” he said and whistled, cringing at the ugly building, what bit was still standing. From the littered parking lot, he could barely see in through the dingy, dirty windows obscured by the overgrown and weed-choked planter by the entrance. Vines sprouted from what looked like more trash than soil, the sickly yellow plants creeping up the vomit-colored vinyl exterior. Bright Shine noticed several distinctly round holes in the weathered siding. Upon trotting closer, he could only assume them to be bullet holes.

“Ok, this was definitely a mistake.” He gulped, his head turning on a swivel as he backed away. “It’s probably safer to just head back to the bus stop.”

Suddenly, as if to confirm this, several loud and sharp cracks rang through the air.

Pop. Pop-Pop! POP!

Bright Shine instinctively ducked, covering his head as he skittered toward the building. A piece of plaster exploded over his head, raining dust down upon him. There was no mistaking the sound of gunfire.
“Oh Sweet Celestia!” he cursed, pressing himself low to the ground. “Who is shooting?!”

Several more shots rang out nearby, maybe another block away, then, a bloodcurdling howl.

“Diamond dog,” he hissed, his eyes leaping from their sockets.

Immediately, thoughts of gangs or muggers sprang into his head. What would a band of diamond dogs do with him when they found he was practically broke (he had eight bits on him, maybe twenty in the bank)? There was no way he could make it back to the bus stop now. He would be caught out in the open. His only choice was to seek shelter indoors.

With a tinkle of the bell above him, Bright Shine burst through the door of Sweet Dreams, LLP. He quickly slammed it behind him, his heart thrumming in his chest like a drum.

A young mare looked up from across the lobby, smiling at the breathless stallion that had collapsed in shock on the squalid waiting room floor. “The diamond dogs get a bit antsy when it’s hot out,” she said with a welcoming smile as she leaned over her reception desk. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

“What?” His mind was still swimming in the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. “Appointment?”

“Oh, it’s ok if you don’t have an appointment, sir. We do take walk-ins. If you want, I might be able to fit you in Dr. L’s busy schedule. Can I get your name, sir?”

Bright Shine’s eyes darted around the very dim and very empty waiting room as the terror of being shot slowly drained away. “You know those were gunshots outside?” he said, wondering if the receptionist simply had not heard them. “Aren’t you going to call the police or something?”

“They usually don’t respond to calls in this area. That’s one reason we’re still able to operate,” she responded gleefully despite the dismal surroundings. The walls were as grey as ash, and the floor was a patchwork of dingy carpet that smelled of dank mold. What scraps were left were stained with something dark that was sticky beneath his hooves. His skin crawled involuntarily.

“Now, about that name?” the receptionist continued.

Bright Shine noted to himself that maybe he should get his hearing checked as well. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing her correctly. Was she still asking if he had an appointment?

“Bright Shine,” he told her, sidestepping around a slow drip coming from the ceiling that pooled near the front entrance. “My name is Bright Shine. I was hoping to get some help with my sleep before—” He waved a hoof behind him. “Well, before whatever that was outside.”

“Let’s see.” The unicorn smacked her lips. She levitated a stack of papers off the desk and flipped through them rapidly. “Ah-ha!” she proclaimed, pulling one of the sheets out. “Here we are. You have a three o’clock appointment?”

“Appointment? I didn’t book an appointment,” he said, confused. “Are you sure you have the right name?”

“Sure do,” the mare replied, standing up from her desk. Bright Shine noticed the name pin on her light purple scrubs.

Peppercorn

“It shows Doctor L booked it for one Mr. Bright Shine this morning,” Peppercorn continued, stepping out of the reception area. She swung open the door to the inner office, motioning him back. “If you’ll follow me to the dream chamber, the Doctor will be with you shortly.”

Bright Shine took a wary stride for the door, weighing his chances of making it back to the bus stop. He had a bad feeling in his gut about this, a tightening akin to indigestion. They already had an appointment booked for him; the circumstances seemed suspicious at best. However strange it was though, Bright Shine followed Peppercorn further inside.

Peppercorn quickly guided him into a spacious central room, the high-domed ceiling bathed in harsh, fluorescent lighting. “Gilbert,” Peppercorn called with a sing-song chirp, her voice resonating around the round chamber. “Gilbert, come meet Bright Shine. He’s our three o’clock.”

Bright Shine caught a glimpse of a flurry of feathers through a viewing window off to the side, a lanky griffon stepping out a paint-flecked door stenciled Dream Core in messy, faded lettering. At least he thought it was a griffon. Whatever it was, they were partially obscured by a cloud of loose, grey feathers.

“Achoo!” the cloud sneezed, revealing the source of the loose plumage. Definitely a griffon.

“Sweet Celestia, Gilbert,” Pepper hacked, waving several offending feathers out of her face. “Are you molting again?”

“I can’t help it, Pepper. It’s the blasted heat.” The wiry griffon squawked, brushing several feathers from his thick-rimmed glasses. He was small by griffon standards, though he could have been a full head taller than Bright Shine. “If I lose any more feathers, I’ll be a plucked chicken.”

“Just go throw on a lab coat, you big bird brain.” Pepper shooed him away. “You’ll get feathers in the equipment. Besides, Doc will be back soon. Let’s get the patient situated.”

“Who is this Doctor L again?” Bright Shine asked. “Is he any good? I’ve been having some sleep issues.”

“Why she is the top pony to see for sleep and dream-related issues,” Pepper proclaimed, motioning him to take a seat in the center of the room.

The metal frame of the chair creaked as he sat down. It could have been a barber’s chair in a past life; the vinyl was cracked, and stained stuffing leaked out of several holes. His coat was already sticking to it. Bright Shine’s eyes alighted to the heavy restraints attached to the hoofrests.

“Wow, oh wow,” he seethed. “You know, I’m beginning to think this isn’t the place for me.” Bright Shine was about to sit up when a claw pulled him back down.

“Nonsense. You won’t find better help anywhere else,” Gilbert chirped, now sporting a wrinkled lab coat to help contain his molt. “Let’s get you prepped for the procedure.” He grinned, his eyes beaming through the thick glasses, distorting them to even larger orbs.

“Procedure?” Bright Shine recoiled as Gilbert’s claws began poking and prodding his tired noggin, a bundle of electrodes clutched in his beak. “What do you mean procedure? I thought this was just a therapy session. Like laying back on a comfy couch and talking.” Bright Shine gripped the chair tighter, a fresh layer of sweat coating his fur.

“This is therapy,” Gilbert assured him, placing several of the sticky sensors atop his head. He pressed them down one at a time. “Doc will explain everything soon. Just try not to move,” he warned. “A few of these wires lost their insulation, and they might short out if you jostle them.”

“Now wait a minute—” The loud bang of a door cut him off.

“Ah, here she is now. You look a little out of breath, Doc,” Gilbert noted.

Now, Bright Shine had seen the Royal Sisters in person on several occasions—such was the norm of living in Canterlot. Somepony could catch the alicorns’ appearances at galas or at yearly celebrations or simply out and about in the wealthier districts of the city. But for one of the princesses to suddenly appear in such a ramshackle establishment, in such an undesirable district, was causing a disconnect in Bright Shine’s sleep-deprived brain. It simply wasn’t in the realm of possibility.

“P-Princess Luna,” he flubbed. His confusion, however, was not shared by either of the attendants.

“Jeez, Doc, what happened? You look like you just ran a marathon,” Gilbert said with a whistle.

And it was true. The Princess stood with her flank pressed to the steel door, a plastic bag levitating beside her as she gasped for breath. Her ethereally waving hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, several wisps having fallen out. Her formal attire of shoes, neck sash, and crown was absent, replaced with a long flowing lab coat sporting only a few stains.

“Diamond Hide and his crony Digger tried cornering me on the way back from the Quickie-Mart,” she finally said, catching her breath and calmly setting her parcel on a counter. “Bloody diamond dogs tried asking for their payment early—got a tad heated when I reminded them it wasn’t due for another week.”

“Sheesh, what is it with these dogs? Every month they keep trying to collect earlier and earlier.” Gilbert rolled his eyes before they wandered to the plastic bag on the counter. “Did you happen to grab my bag of chips though?”

Luna rummaged through the plastic Quickie-Mart bag, unaware of the horribly confused pony in the chair struggling to set his senses straight. “Of course, Gil,” she assured him, producing his snack. “Extra oniony, just like you like them.”

Several crumbs slipped through the neat round hole punched clean through the bag. “They might be a little... damaged. As I said, Diamond Hide lost his head and thought he might scare me by lobbing a few rounds at me.”

“Oh no,” Pepper gasped with a squeak, a hoof clutched over her mouth. “Is he ok? You didn’t hurt him too bad, did you?”

“He’ll be fine,” Luna replied, producing a soda bottle. She twisted the cap, tilted her head back, and guzzling down the bubbly liquid greedily. “Well, mostly. You should have seen the look on the mutt’s face when my spell melted the gun in his paw,” she chuckled before releasing a loud belch that echoed around the domed room.

“You’re Princess Luna,” Bright Shine was finally able to muster the will to say.

The Princess whipped around, entirely unaware of his presence. Like a light switch being flipped on, her face lit up. “Ah it’s you!” She beamed as if to recognize him. “Sorry about that. I was pretty thirsty.” She wiped a hoof on her lab coat, giving him a quick but vigorous hoofshake. “Glad to see you found the place. And it looks to be right on time, too. My bad on the timberwolves, by the way. I hope the mauling wasn’t too traumatic,” she said with a slight clench of her jaw.

“Timberwolves?” he asked, befuddled. “My dream.” The faint memory of the experience was finally resurfacing: twisting trees, sucking mud, and a pair of hungry timberwolves barreling toward him. The blue mare. “It was you,” he said. “You were in my dream. You gave me a business card.”

“Welcome.” The Princess grinned and stretched her hooves wide in presentation. “Welcome to Sweet Dreams, LLP. My little pet project for some time,” she added pridefully. “Servicing all of those in Equestria who need help in their dreams under a Limited Liability to Princesses clause. Just call me Doctor L,” she added. “I’m sure you’ve met most of the Sweet Dream Team by now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call us that,” Gilbert grumbled as he slinked off with his snack prize, munching on the crisps greedily.

“But there’s no time to waste,” the Princess quickly announced, leaving Bright Shine hanging onto more questions as she set down her soda. “We have dreams to sort out if I remember. Pepper, let’s get the patient ready please.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Pepper answered dutifully, hurrying off with her clipboard.

“Gilbert,” Luna chimed. “Is the Dream Core warmed up?”

The griffon gave a claw-up from behind his windowed alcove. Banks of terminals and coils of snaking wires surrounded him on either side. The tiny room with a full view of the dream chamber glowed with multiple displays before the griffon, reflecting off his glasses with motes of colored light. “Core is primed and waiting for your tether.”

“Excellent. Next we just need the patient sedated. Speaking of which, has anypony seen Broodly?”

The two employees shook their heads.

Luna grumbled and lifted her head to scan the ceiling. “He better not be hiding in the rafters again. I told him to stop doing that,” she muttered. “Broodly? BROODLY! Where are you, you dithering alchemist?” she called.

From an adjacent room came a clatter of crashes and banging. Out of a heavily claw-marked door erupted a bat pony, the unfortunate stallion tangled in his big, leathery wings. “What? What!” he shouted in a voice drenched in a heavy accent unfamiliar to Bright Shine. It was thick and raspy, the words resonating from his barrel-like chest and slipping past his stubby fangs. “What does you wants?” he practically shrieked, cringing and blinking in the bright lights of the room. He shrank under their blaze.

“The patient needs sedating, Broodly.” Luna gestured calmly to Bright Shine. “You know, your job.” She let the words simmer.

“Is all this really necessary?” Bright Shine nervously scratched at a rash spreading at the nape of his neck. “What kind of procedure is this, Princess? I just need some help getting sleep at night, that’s all,” he insisted.

“We offer a very special service here at Sweet Dreams, LLP,” the Princess explained as the bat pony skulked back into his darkened room. Bright Shine could hear objects being thrown inside, and perhaps a few curses. “We offer patients the chance to diagnose and treat their dreams by actually entering them and facing them head-on,” the Princess continued. “It’s a real game-changer. I can tell it’s all a bit much to take in,” she pointed out.

“I just didn’t expect to have one of the Princesses running a therapy center in a place like this.” Did that sound rude; that sounded rude, he scolded himself.

“Well, the Royal Budgetary Committee wasn’t too keen on forking over the bits when I pitched the idea,” she retorted, her face twisting in a chiseled scowl. “Tightwads. And don’t even get me started on my sister.”

“And ponies that come in here don’t find it strange to see you? Seems like I would have heard about it around Canterlot at least.”

“A little disguise charm I picked up a while back,” she replied with a sly wink. “To everypony else, I look like some normal run-of-the-mill egghead.”

Bright Shine’s eyes searched the ground in front of him. “But not me?” he concluded. “I can see it’s you.”

“No, not you, Bright Shine.” The Princess stepped behind him, massaging his head and causing him to squirm uncomfortably. Her hooves were unimaginably cold, and they tugged at the electrodes stuck to his head. “No, I believe there is more to your dreams than even I can see. I felt it in your dream, your nightmare. I didn’t want to affect any potential data with any magical disguise.”

“And you think your therapy can help me finally get some sleep?”

“There is only one way to find out. We go inside,” she explained eagerly, her words spilling out. “We travel into your dreams and find the root of your nightmares, Bright Shine, with me as a guide.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” he still asked skeptically, shifting in his chair.

“Why, we have only the best of the best creatures on staff. Gilbert has been with me since the start. And you’ve met our in-house alchemist, Brood. Just watch out that you don’t leave anything shiny out near him or it might go missing,” Luna noted. “Then there is our newest replacement intern, Peppercorn. Smart mare she is.”

“Replacement intern?” Bright Shine repeated. “What happened to the last one?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Luna said with a shrug, her ponytail bobbing up and down. “But if you smell anything funny or rank while you’re here, let us know. She had the keys to the break room fridge on her when she disappeared, and we’d really like those back.”

“I had a whole case of pickled sardines in there,” Gilbert chipped in.

“Quite a tragedy,” Luna observed.

The return of the bat pony stifled any further questions. He was an imposing creature, his massive hooked wings tucked at his side. A mop of raven hair swept over his back, his face bristling with a couple of days’ worth of facial hair. Brood had probably been a bit more solid at some point in history; the bat pony sported a healthy belly on him. But most of all, Bright Shine was drawn to the sharp fangs protruding from the pony’s upper lips.

“What are yous’ looking at?” the bat pony wondered, his orange eyes piercing Bright Shine with unbroken gaze. They glowed ever so softly.

“Nothing,” he quickly said. Bright Shine realized he had been staring.

Broodly produced a vial. He sported a belt of identical cylinders around his generous midsection, each tube filled with various bright, colored liquids. “Heres,” he hissed. “Drinks this,” he instructed Bright Shine, shoving the open vial before him. “It’s a mild sedatives.”

Bright Shine gave the liquid a tentative sniff. “You brew this yourself? Are you sure it’s safe?”

Broodly scoffed indignantly. Bright hoped he hadn’t offended the sharp-fanged thestral.

“Safe? I’ve trained unders the most skilled zebras,” he proclaimed, “studied the most ancient of tomes, and haves concocted potions powerfuls enough to—”

“You took a two-hour online class in my office, Brood,” Luna interjected. “Don’t be filling his head with any of your crazy, batish nonsense.”

“Whatevers.” He sneered and looked away. “Just drinks its. If it makes the wimpy pony feels better, it tastes likes bubblegums.”

Wimpy pony? With a quick swig, Bright Shine downed the liquid, his throat immediately burning as if he had swallowed fire. “What in Tartarus!” he blurted, coughing and sputtering on the words. “It doesn’t taste like bubblegum at all. It tastes like bleach.”

“Oh shit.” Brood quickly rechecked his potion belt, rubbing his nocturnal eyes in the bright light. “I knew I should have gottens label maker.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Luna assured him, pulling him back into the seat as he heaved. “You’re fine, just fine. Let’s get the patient into calibration, Gilbert,” she instructed, waving at the griffon. “Preferably before he makes a mess on the floor or soils himself.”

“Or boths at same time.” Broodly hesitantly backed away. “I swears, I am not cleanings up another mess.”

Meanwhile, the room spun around Bright Shine. His mouth was dry, and his head swam. “I don’t feel so good,” Bright Shine bubbled woozily to noponys’ notice.

“Tether is ready when you are, Doc,” Gilbert’s voice squawked through speakers around the dream chamber.

Bright Shine struggled to make out what he saw next; his eyes could barely focus as the concoction slowly robbed him of his senses. Through the chemical blur, he observed Luna take her place on the far side of the chamber. She strapped herself into a chair bolted to the wall, her hindlegs hovering inches above the ground. As she tightened the retaining harness, tendrils of magic curled from her horn toward a terminal contact above her head.

“Ok, this is it, Bright Shine: game time,” she told him. “Keep your focus and I’ll be with you in your dream shortly. We’re going in—together. Just whatever you do, don’t die,” she warned. “You die in our Dream Core, you die for real.”

“What!” he cried, hooves grasping at the torn upholstery before they were released by the effects of the elixir. The electrodes were warm on his head. “No, no, no! I’ve changed my mind!” Bright Shine struggled to sit up, but his limbs were weak. He couldn’t even lift a hoof; he was slowly slipping under, the room around him disappearing beneath a blanket of nothingness.

“Haha, just kidding.” He could barely hear Luna’s voice anymore, as if it were miles away by now. “But any pain will feel real and one hundred times worse. Like seriously, don’t get hurt while we’re inside. You’ll regret it.”

“No, no… no...”

This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 3

“What do you see?”

Her voice wisped on unseen winds, filling Bright Shine’s head. He couldn’t see her, at least not yet. Everything was still coming into focus, and his world was still dark.

“I…I can’t see,” he said, reaching his hooves out in front of him but feeling thin air. He couldn’t even find his hooves in front of his face.

“Yes, you can, Bright Shine,” Luna assured him. Her voice sounded deep and far away, as if Bright Shine was hearing her from another room. “You just have to open your eyes. It’s only a dream, after all. Now, tell me what you can see.”

“I see…I see stars,” he said and gasped. One by one, they erupted out of the void, gently popping to life. They hung in the blackness above him, twinkling with colors he had never experienced before. Their lights pulsed and wavered as if they were alive, a living, breathing membrane of light.

“Good,” Luna’s voice echoed. “Look down. Tell me what else you see.”

Bright Shine dipped his head. “It’s all white,” he said. “Like a dirty grey.” The soil beneath his hooves was bleached, the barren ground pocket-marked with craters. Some were small, while others were much larger, their rims towering mountains that cast thick shadows across the alabaster landscape. “What is this place?” he asked.

“This is calibration,” Luna informed him, her voice carrying into space with a deep, distant rumble. “Just some simple steps to align your subconscious with the Dream Core. Think of it like a gateway to your dreams, Bright Shine. But I’m sure you recognize what it is modeled after; it only comes out in the sky every night.”

Bright Shine turned around, and his eyes glowed with the awe and wonder of the blue orb dominating the horizon. The Earth hung in the sky, a ball of intense blues and greens that filled the edge of the empty landscape. And if the Earth was there, he concluded, that meant he was here.

“The moon,” he breathed aloud, though he wasn’t sure how he could breathe in a vacuum. “It seems so real.” He scraped the regolith with a hoof and watched the particles float gently away.

“I thought I would at least make the calibration process interesting,” Luna chuckled elsewhere. “I built it myself. Funny how you can reconstruct all the little details. I was only there for a thousand years, of course.”

“Here for all that time,” he said quietly, “with home right over the horizon.”

“Nothing more than a memory now. But we need to keep moving,” the Princess said, hurrying him along. “You should see somepony there with you. Can you see her?”

It took Bright Shine a minute to spot the pony the Princess was talking about. “Somepony else?” And as he spotted her, his bubbling enthusiasm died like a smoldering fire.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he deadpanned. “Seriously, is this a joke?”

The pony had materialized just a few short paces away, an unassuming mare with a long brown mane. Unassuming, except for the sign she shook in her hooves.

Quills and Sofas

New Summer Selections Arriving Now

“A sign spinner? What is she doing in here with me?” he demanded, stepping cautiously back from the spinner. She had a pair of earbuds in, bobbing and dancing enthusiastically to her music.

“Don’t worry, she isn’t real. It’s just an advertisement,” Luna assured him. “Bits are a little tight around here. Paid advertising helps keep the lights on,” she said begrudgingly with a mutter.

“I hate sign spinners.”

“I know, I know, just try not to think about it. Besides, this the last part of calibration,” she said. “Now, this part is important. I want to move the sign with your mind. Just give it a spin,” she offered.

“Move the sign with my mind?” She was beginning to sound even crazier. “How do I move a sign with my mind?” The spinner held the cutout over her head, bobbing it back and forth to her music with a grin.

“You have to trust me on this, Bright Shine. Reach out with your mind. Imagine yourself as that sign.”

“I’d rather not,” he said with an indignant snort, turning up his nose as the spinner waggled the sign in his direction, the mare dancing and popping in place to the music.

“You’re stuck here with her longer the more you wait.”

That was all he needed to hear.

“Fine, be the sign,” he grumbled.

Bright Shine focused intently on the sign spinner, dismissing her sloppy choreography. He needed to be the sign. He needed it to spin.

“Imagine yourself as one with the sign, Bright Shine,” Luna encouraged him.

Slowly at first, the spinner twirled the cutout. Round and round, she spun the sign in her hooves, picking up speed.

“You’re doing great, Bright Shine. Spin that sign,” Luna said, observing from her unseen vantage.

Bright Shine could feel it now. It was the most bizarre feeling he had ever experienced. It was as if his mind was the sign, spinning faster and faster. It was a blur in the spinner’s hooves, so fast that everything was collapsing around him due to its sheer speed. It was a black hole, a spinning sign of unproportional gravity, pulling everything toward it. But still, it spun faster, propelled by intent focus. Bright Shine was one with the sign; he could feel it. His mind was drawn into its depths, entranced by its mesmeric ballet. The last thing he experienced was the world falling away, and once again reality flew to black.

Calibration Complete

“Open your eyes.”

Like lighting a match, everything erupted around him, bursting to life in an explosive flash of color and sound. It was like being launched from a cannon.

Bright Shine was thrust head-first into his new reality, every sense assaulting him at once: the damp, swampy air on his tongue, the slimy mush beneath his hooves, a chorus of bullfrogs, and the unmistakable, putrid smell of timberwolf breath.

“Shh.” Luna slapped her hoof over his mouth before he could even breathe. Bright Shine’s eyes drew wide, darting like enraged bees all around him. He remembered this place. He remembered the mauling pretty well by now. The nightmare had returned with a vengeance, right where he left off.

Luna was bent down beside him, her eyes glued to the edge of the boulder the two crouched behind. “Quiet, or they might hear us,” she whispered. “And I’m sure you don’t want a repeat of last time. Don’t forget, it will feel ten times more real this time.”

Bright Shine’s eyes slowly crept from their cover behind the boulder. The two timberwolves that had chased him endlessly through the dark, twisting forest were sniffing the ground, tracing their scent.

“What do we do?” he hissed feverishly, pressing himself down low. This had been a series of continuous mistakes. “They’ll find us.”

Luna grabbed onto his shoulders tight, her eyes locked in his wild gaze. “This is your dream, Bright Shine. I’m just a passenger. You tell me what we should we do.”

“H-hide,” he uttered. “We should find someplace to hide.”

“But we can’t hide here,” she calmly reminded him. “Where do we need to hide? You need to let the dream take you. Let it lead you, Bright Shine.”

Bright Shine scanned the overgrown and gloom, searching for someplace, anyplace, that they might escape the hungry wolves. But everything was so dark; he could barely see a few paces in front of him. “I don’t know,” he whispered with a pitiful whimper. “I can’t even see.”

“You don’t have to see. Let your mind guide you, Bright Shine,” Luna softly told him.

A glimmer? His hoof shot up. “There,” he said and pointed. “I’m not sure. I think there is something there, a cave.”

The small portal of black stood out against the trees, surrounded by rock.

“Good catch. Stay low and try not to draw the wolves’ attention. We don’t need a repeat of last time,” she warned, hunkering down and slinking toward the cave.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” he said with a worried scowl, pressing himself down low and crawling after the alicorn. “Slow down!” he hissed.

The interior of the cave was awash in total darkness; Bright Shine probed the ground in front of him as they crept inside. “Can you see anything?” he asked. “We might be walking into an Ursa’s open mouth for all I know.”

A warm light spontaneously grew beside him, glowing brighter till the cave walls materialized out the blackness. Luna’s horntip held the orb of light, illuminating their path. “Nice job keeping your cool back there.” She patted him roughly on the back. “But now we need to probe deeper,” she told him, pointing further into the cave. “We need to get to the bottom of your nightmare, find the source. We were meant to find this cave. It’s your subconscious steering us toward the center of your mind.”

“Is that such a wise thing to do? We don’t even know what is down here, or at least I don’t. Why does my subconscious want all of this anyway?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” She moved deeper into the cave. “These nightmares, when did they start?” the Princess asked, surveying clusters of stalactites dripping with moisture.

“I don’t know,” he claimed despondently. “Like, maybe a few months ago.”

“And why do you think it was?”

“Do nightmares need to have a reason?”

“There’s always a deeper meaning,” she explained, taking off further into the cave, Bright Shine following cautiously. “What do you think, Pepper?” Luna called out. “Check manual five of Temperaments and Tribulations.”

“Here it is,” Pepper replied, the mare’s voice suddenly resonating through the fabric of the dream, echoing with the same deep, distant rumble as in calibration. Bright Shine could hear her all around them.

“Timberwolves and miscellaneous pursuing terrors,”—she read out—“are a common nightmare experience, usually followed by them mauling the dreamer, signifying deeper underlying social ineptitudes or deteriorating personal relationships.”

“In-ineptitudes?” Bright Shine stopped and squinted at the cave ceiling accusingly. “I don’t have social ineptitude,” he mocked defensively.

“What’s the verdict from the jury, Gilbert?” Luna asked. They weaved around slithering, slippery walls.

“Well, the equipment is reading the patient’s dream patterns as slightly scattered,” the griffon’s voice squawked into his dream. “But I think the data is telling me this thing goes deep, like really deep. You are barely on the surface, Doc.”

“I knew I sensed the same when I stumbled upon him,” Luna replied. “We’ll just have to start chipping away at it. I knew there was more to your nightmares than met the mind, Bright Shine.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Bright Shine trotted to keep up with the alicorn, not daring to stray too far from the light. He could almost feel there was something out there—something waiting for him. “I don’t like you poking and prodding inside my subconscious.”

“No need to be a scaredy-colt,” Luna retorted.

“You weren’t the one mauled,” he grumbled softly. “So what makes me any different anyway?” he wondered, shifting his thoughts away from the unfortunate experience he hoped not to repeat. “I’m sure you’ve visited hundreds of other dreams before. What makes mine any different?”

“The mind is a powerful force, Bright Shine.” Luna ducked beneath an overhang of rock, her mane brushing its cold surface. “A dream as deep and as powerful as yours—you’re lucky to have a very capable dream state.”

“Somehow, I don’t feel so lucky.”

“Wait,” she stopped, holding up a hoof for him to be quiet. “Do you hear that?”

Bright Shine paused and cocked an ear. It was faint but audible. Whatever it was, it was just ahead, crawling from deeper within the cave. “It sounds like…crying.”

“It’s close,” Luna said, eyes peering into the dark. “Up ahead.”

Bright Shine didn’t have to wonder long, for as the duo rounded the bend, the glow of Luna’s horn outlined somepony. She appeared to be a mare, and she was crying. Her back was to them as they approached; she was curled tightly in a ball, her sobs coming in spasms that wracked her body.

“Who is this pony to you, Bright Shine?” Luna stopped and stood over the weeping mare, gazing over the pitiful thing. “Who is she to you?”

Bright Shine cautiously approached, eyes locked on the mare curled upon the damp cave floor. “Snow Berry?”

“You know her?”

“She’s my special somepo—” He stopped. “Was my special somepony,” Bright Shine corrected himself. “She left me last month, packed her things in the middle of the night.”

“Why?” Luna wondered, eyes looking forlornly on the mare.

“It all happened so fast,” he said with a sigh, his gaze locked on Snow Berry. “I really don’t know why. She packed her things and moved back to Fillydelphia. It was so sudden I never really got the chance to understand why. Something about how it ‘would never work.’” The words overflowed with a distant hurt. “What couldn’t work between us?”

“Maybe now you have that chance.” Luna nodded down at Snow Berry. “But that will only happen if you take that first step.” She backed away, motioning him to come forward.

Bright Shine gulped, stepping closer and gently kneeling beside the mare. He reached his hoof out, leaving it hovering over her side. “Snow Berry?”

“Go on,” Luna said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Tell her how you feel. You deserve to know why.”

Bright Shine’s hoof gently rested on Snow Berry, the mare’s sobs slowly subsiding till they were little more than sniffles. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to hurt you.” His throat clenched tight, his eyes hot. “Please, tell me. Tell me what I did to make you leave.”

Snow Berry froze, her shakes and tremors evaporating in an instant.

“What you did?” Her words were like stones, emotionless and gritty. The small mare voice was toneless, steeled without feeling. “You want me to tell you where it all went wrong?”

“Yes, please,” Bright Shine begged her, her face still buried beneath her hooves. “I don’t understand.”

“You—” Snow Berry’s breaths were deeper, her body trembling with the word.

“Bright Shine, you might want to step back,” Luna warned, uneasily taking a few strides back herself. Snow Berry was shaking again, slowly lifting herself from the cave floor. The mare’s slender face came into the light. Her eyes were slack, yet bore a barely contained fire.

“You come all the way down here, and you have the nerve to ask me where it all went wrong. Why I would leave somepony like you.”

Bright Shine fell back, Snow Berry’s words dripping with uncontained rage. She turned toward him, the mare’s eyes igniting into twin blazes that drowned out Luna’s feeble light. The fire blinded them both, Bright Shine shielding his face from where he lay as Snow Berry stood over him. He couldn’t move; he was frozen beneath the mare’s piercing glare.

“You!” Snow Berry’s voice boomed and rattled like thunder. “You insignificant little pony are asking me why I would dump somepony like you.”

“I take back what I said earlier, don’t listen to her.” Luna was pressed against the cave wall, retreating as far as she could from the mad mare. “Don’t listen to her, Bright Shine.”

But Bright Shine wasn’t moving anywhere fast, the stallion stiff upon his back, staring up at the monstrous manifestation towering over him.

“You’re just an inconsequential, timid, loser!” Snow Berry roared, taking another aggressive step toward him. Grotesque and leathery clawed wings unfurling from her back with a nightmarish flourish. “No job, no girlfriend, a dumpy little apartment, and no life. What pony could ever love you?” she hissed through dagger-like teeth that sprouted, dripping with saliva.

“She’s wrong!” Luna shouted words of encouragement at him. “This is just you, Bright Shine. She is just a projection of your subconscious.”

Bright Shine was pinned to the ground by Snow Berry’s horrifying presence. “Well why in Tartarus is my subconscious a nightmare version of my ex?!”

Luna’s light grew brighter, her horn filling the cave with a cold, blue luminescence. “You can’t be afraid of yourself, Bright Shine. Stand up to yourself. Tell her that she’s wrong about you. You are somepony, not some insignificant loser!”

“But...but she’s right.”

“What?” Luna’s light fizzled for a moment.

“I mean s-she’s right,” Bright Shine stuttered, looking back at her. “I’ve got no job, no girlfriend, and my apartment walls are so thin that you can hear the mice screwing at night. I am right. I’ve got no life,” he said woefully.

“Then we’ve got a major problem,” Luna muttered, staring at Snow Berry, who was licking her fangs.

“What should I do?” Bright Shine was backpedaling as Snow Berry crept closer toward him. The bonfires in her eyes seemed to burn hungrily.

“I think this is an obstacle for another time,” she breathed quickly. “In fact, I think you need to run, Bright Shine,” Luna proclaimed. “Right now!” In an instant, “Doctor L” was charging further into the tunnel, leaving Bright Shine scrambling after her.

Snow Berry charged, Bright Shine stumbling to his hooves in a flurry of gravel. He ducked, a massive leathery wing swiping at him and raking the cave wall with an angry screech.

“Running away like you always have, Bright?” Snow Berry hissed. “What should I have expected?” the monstrous mare growled, pursuing them further into the cave. If it wasn’t timberwolves after Bright Shine, it was a bloodthirsty ex.

Bright Shine’s lungs burned. He could barely keep up with Luna, the alicorn soaring through the hairpin turns and ducking below sharp stalactites that clung to the ceiling. She barely had room to fly, the passage becoming narrower the deeper they fled.

“What do we do?” Bright Shine asked with a breathless puff, the hot cave air pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

“You have to take control!” Luna shouted back to him, her wingtips now inches away from brushing the walls. “It’s not really Snow Berry; she isn’t in here. The only thing chasing you is your subconscious, Bright Shine.”

“Well then why is my subconscious trying to kill me? Make it fuck off!”

“The patient’s inner subconscious is manifesting his fears of humiliation and inadequacy into a physical form,” Pepper’s voice echoed from outside. “I read it in Prefectures of Pursuing Phantoms. That must be the first root of the patient’s nightmares. It fits perfectly with the timberwolves and the blood-sucking ex-girlfriend.” She sounded all too happy with her diagnosis.

“Thank you, Pepper, but right now isn’t the best opportunity to congratulate on a job well done. We have another problem.”

Luna screeched to a halt, hooves falling and digging deep ruts into the muddy cave floor.

Bright Shine tried to slow down, to step around her, but it was too late. He crashed into her, her horn light flickering briefly as they both smacked the door blocking their path with a meaty thwack.

“Dead end,” Luna moaned, rubbing a healthy bump on her head. Bright Shine grasped his snout with a hoof, the pain surprisingly real for a dream. It hurt like a mother-hoofer.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he wheezed through his bruised snout.

“What did you find?” Gilbert asked from outside.

“It’s a door,” Luna told him, standing up shakily and stroking the boards. They were thick, sturdy, a bright coat of purple painted across them. There was no handle, no latch. A single keyhole in its center was its only other feature.

“She’s getting closer,” Bright Shine warned Luna. He could already see Snow Berry’s burning eyes lighting the last bend.

“Where’s the key, Bright Shine?” Luna searched their surroundings, but there was no place a key could have been hidden. The walls were almost perfectly smooth.

“Key? Why would I have a key?” he demanded.

“It’s your door. You were the only one who could have locked it. So, where is the key?” Luna must have seen they were running out of time. She undoubtedly could hear Snow Berry’s thunderous hooves approaching.

“But I don’t have a key,” Bright Shine insisted feverishly. “I’ve never even seen this door before.”

“Alright, we’ll come back to it. Were out of time,” she said in defeat. Snow Berry had rounded the bend, and she was charging them like a freight train. Her eyes lit up the cave, flames licking out their sockets “Pull us out, Gilbert. We’re done in here for now.”

“Uh-oh,” Gilbert chirped with a clatter of claws on a keyboard.

“What do you mean, Gilbert? What’s the uh-oh?” she demanded. “Now is not the time for an uh-oh.”

“I’m ready to wake up, Doc,” Bright Shine hissed, streams of nervous fear pouring off his face. “Wake me up. Wake me up!” His flank was pressed against the locked door, his eyes fixated on the behemoth barreling toward him.

“I can’t,” Gilbert squawked. “I can pull you out, Doc, but the patient’s dream state is deteriorating. He’s spiraling out of alignment. I can’t pull him out.”

“Jump out of there, Doc,” Pepper pleaded. “He’ll wake up once his crazy, monstrous ex tears him to pieces.”

“What!” Bright Shine cried, hooves desperately clawing at the locked door to no avail.

“I’m not going to leave a patient, Pepper,” Luna reprimanded. “We’re going to have to extract him the old-fashioned way. We’re going to pull you out, Bright Shine.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just hurry,” he pleaded, back pressed against the door. Snow Berry was seconds away from tearing straight through him.

Luna planted her hooves wide, lowing her horn and directing it at Bright Shine. “Don’t move,” she instructed. “I’m not always the best shot.”

“What are you doing?” he asked frantically, Snow Berry letting out a roar that reverberated through his bones as she cleared the final distance.

“It’s the only other way to pull you out. I have to kill you, Bright Shine,” she told him. “Don’t worry, it will hurt less than being mauled—somewhat.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rattled off, eyes darting between the blood-sucking rendition of Snow Berry and the horn pointing dangerously at him, glowing with uncontained magical energy. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“A little advice. Don’t tense up, or you may actually wet yourself,” Luna offered helpfully before his world exploded with light.

And also, pain. Lots of it.

BANG!

The first sensation that reached out to him from the void was a strange tightness in his chest. To Bright Shine, it felt like something was planted on his chest, possibly an elephant.

“Does he look alright to you? He seems kinda pale.” The words reached out to him as reality came into focus once more.

“He’ll be fine, Pepper. I blasted him right through the noggin, a clean shot. Now, go check his bags and see if you can find a credit card. Blank checks work, too.”

“I think he’s coming around, Doc.”

“Crap, quick, put his stuff back like it was. Hurry.”

“Ohhhhh,” Bright Shine groaned. “My head.”

“Congratulations!” The face of Luna beamed over him as he clutched his head and writhed in the chair. The lights of the dream chamber were so bright as they materialized.

“Breathe,” he gasped, struggling to fill his lungs. “I can’t breathe.” For several terrifying moments, Bright Shine wondered if he had suffered some terrible side effect, for he was sure he was about to suffocate. That was until he spotted the two black, beady eyes staring at him from atop his midriff.

The eyes, in fact, belonged to a possum. A very large, and very round possum at that. The generously proportioned marsupial twitched its nose and scratch at one of his many chins, the creature never breaking its gaze on the dazed pony it sat atop.

“Oh, Tiberius, get down,” Luna scolded. “Naughty opossum.” She picked up the animal in an extensive levitation field, setting him down on the floor of the dream chamber.

Instantly Bright Shine could breathe again, gulping down lungfuls of air as his mind continued to swim.

“Wonderful job back there, Bright Shine. You’re well on your way to recovery,” Princess Luna congratulated him, halfway ignoring Tiberius, who was attempting to climb the mare’s hind leg. “Here, for you.” She passed him a small piece of paper.

Bright Shine’s watery eyes squinted over the paper. It was hard to read with the ceaseless thrumming, but he could just make out the words. “This is a receipt for a night club,” he said, confused. “Halter’s and Tie-down’s?”

“Whoops.” Luna quickly snatched the paper from his hooves, stuffing it into a lab coat pocket. “Wrong one. Don’t know how that got in there. Not mine of course. Here you go,” she apologized and chuckled tensely, pulling another slip from her other pocket. “Your prescription.”

Bright Shine scanned the scribble, making sure he was reading it correctly. “A job?” he asked. “You’re prescribing me a job?”

“Not just prescribing you one,” she said with a smile. “I’m offering you one. Here, at Sweet Dreams, LLP. A job is just what you need to help get you started on your dream therapy. You need some purpose,” she informed him, hardly able to contain her enthusiasm.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Bright Shine gurgled, letting the script slip from his hooves.

“It’s not so bad,” Luna offered. “We need a fresh young-blood like yourself; you’d be a perfect dream assistant. Plus, there is the matter of repayment of your bill. Most reputable insurance providers don’t exactly cover us.”

Bright Shine’s mouth opened and closed, the words caught in his throat.

“Speechless, huh? I know, it is an exciting opportunity.”

Bright Shine responded by retching violently, hot bile spewing over the cracked linoleum.

“Whoops, that’s fine,” Luna said, quickly sidestepping the forming puddle. “That happens from time to time. Don’t worry, there’s a hose out back you can rinse yourself off with.”

“Sorry anyway,” he said weakly, wiping the dribble from his chin.

“Don’t fret, I’ll leave it for Broodly to deal with.”

“Nooos!” a defiant voice answered somewhere behind him. “I tolds you all, I’m an alchamists, not your little dirty errand bat! I’m nots cleaning that!”

Luna snapped in the direction of the voice in an instant, her enthusiastic demeanor crushing into a scowl. “Oh yes, you will! I let you sleep here at the center for virtually free, Broodly. You will clean that up!"

“I saids no! You ponies cants treat me like this!”

Bright Shine never saw the Princess throw the object. But he did hear something heavy smash into Brood’s head followed by a string of unintelligible curses trailed by a croaking sob as a door slammed.

“I think I should be going,” Bright Shine said with a tired groan, sliding limply out the chair onto four unsteady hooves and trying to avoid the puddle of bile. The electrodes tore from his head, leaving more than a dozen bald patches in his coat. He didn’t feel it either way. “I can’t miss that bus,” he said groggily, trying to steady himself.

“Goodness me, you’re right,” she said. “Look at the time. You just run along then,” Luna told him, levitating his saddlebags on him. “Great progress today, by the way. You did outstanding.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, stumbling to the rear exit and shouldering it open. “Listen, thanks and all, but I think this was a mistake. I won’t tell anypony about you or this place, I swear.”

These ponies were nuts. If he stayed any longer, he might just lose a limb, he warned himself. With any luck, he could slip away before they tried to collect on their bill. It wasn’t like he would be able to pay it anyway.

“Oh, Bright Shine,” Luna called to him.

He stopped, wedged in the doorway, his bloodshot eyes rolling in their sockets as another thread of sputum dripped off his lips.

“Get some rest, you look terrible. Don’t want to be late for your first day on the job.” She gave him a warm smile. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Not happening, Bright Shine firmly told himself just long enough for a fresh wave of nausea to roll over him. He slammed the door behind him.

It was well past sundown, the moon already having crept over the distant Canterlot Castle towers. The air sent fresh chills up his back, and Bright Shine steeled himself for the run to the bus, hopefully without encountering any diamond dogs. The only positive would be that the sign spinner was likely long gone by now.

He hated sign spinners.

The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 1

Waking up in the morning is usually a good indicator for the day to come.

Let's say, for example, that you were to awaken to the smell of fresh coffee, the pleasant sound of birds chirping outside your window, and the knock of room service upon your hotel door with a delicious breakfast in hoof. From this evidence, you might imagine yourself having a pleasant morning enjoying breakfast on a veranda overlooking Canterlot, with a wonderful day ahead of you.

On the other hoof, if you were to awaken to a very big and very hungry manticore watching you closely from the foot of your bed, and he bears no resemblance to room service, nor does it appear if he has a platter of breakfast scones, then we might deduce that your morning will probably not be as pleasant.

However, if you were to wake to find yourself on a hard bus stop bench, the sun beating relentlessly upon your sweat-encrusted fur, and the sound of somepony loudly slurping through a straw, then you would probably be Bright Shine. And your day would just be getting started.

“Wake up,” the pony said, nudging Bright Shine with a sharp hoof until he rolled over with a groan. “Did you sleep here all night? Out here? Sweet Suns, you look like you've been mugged.”

Bright Shine stirred, groggily peeling himself from the bench, his coat sticky with rancid sweat. “Where am I?” he croaked, the words rolling off his heavy tongue. He squinted against the harsh rays of daylight, shielding his sleep-rimmed eyes with a wavering hoof.

Through his waking haze, Bright Shine could make out Princess Luna standing over him, surveying his decrepit state. A weighty Tiberius was perched on her back, the marsupial enthusiastically munching on a strawberry, pausing only between bites for several heavy breaths. Those beady eyes were staring right at him.

“I knew Broodly must have given you too strong a dose,” the Princess tutted, taking a sip from the Big Gulp levitating beside her. “I’m surprised you even made it this far.”

“This far? Here?” Bright Shine could hardly recall what had transpired the night before. He remembered stumbling out of Sweet Dreams L.L.P., trotting for the bus stop, and not daring to look back. But each step had gotten heavier and heavier. He couldn’t even remember sitting down. And he certainly hadn’t caught his bus.

“Well, I applaud anypony this dedicated to being on time for the first day of their job,” Luna said between sips. “Come, my newest dream assistant. We have a very busy day ahead of us. No time to waste,” Luna proclaimed heartily. "We best be off."

Bright Shine sat up, rubbing the hardened sleep from his eyes. He could already feel a migraine rearing its ugly head. “Look, your Highness-”

“No need for the formalities,” Luna interjected with a wave of her soda. “You’re part of the team now. Luna or Dr. is more than acceptable. Though if its anypony from the Ministry of Money Management, I’d rather you not mention me at all,” she quickly added. “Bean counters are still trying to come after me for back taxes,” she scoffed. “As if we had anything to pay them anyway.”

Bright Shine rubbed his temples as he squeezed his eyes tight, hoping to massage away the pounding in his head. “Ok, Doc, I appreciate the job offer, as well as you trying to help me out and all, but I don’t think it’s for me. I don’t know the first thing about dream therapy.”

Luna took a seat beside the bedraggled stallion, Tiberius sliding off her back and landing with a heavy thump between the two ponies. “Let me ask you, Bright Shine,” she began. “How do you think I got my Doctor’s license?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged sleepily, trying to pop the crick in his stiff neck. “Hard work and study?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I issued it to myself.”

“You issued yourself your own license?" Bright Shine stopped adjusting his neck. "How is that legal? Or even ethical?”

“Well, my sister and I are in charge of issuing all medical practitioner licenses,” Luna said. “So I just wrote one out to myself. What do you think that tells you about myself?”

At this point, Bright Shine was more confused than lucid. “It means you have little regard for the Hippgrithic Oath?” he ventured.

“It means that what we do for ponies at Sweet Dreams L.L.P. isn’t about certificates or licenses,” Luna explained. “It's about a desire to help ponies," She proclaimed. "No matter the consequences. That is why I prescribed you a job. The first step toward your recovery is to see life through other ponies' eyes – their dreams.”

“To be frank, Princess, I think the only thing I need right now is some sleep,” he sighed. “Thank you again, but I think I’m going to wait here for the next bus with my ba-“ He froze, suddenly searching the ground around his hooves. “My bag. Where is my saddlebag?” he gulped. “My bus card!”

“I warned you about the diamond dogs,” Luna chided. “Probably made off with it while you were out cold. Pity.”

“No, NO!” Bright Shine seethed, running his hooves through his unkempt mane. “This can’t be happening. How am I going to get home now? It’s at least halfway across Canterlot,” he moaned.

“Hey now, don’t fret." She threw a comforting wing around the distraught stallion. “Tell you what – and just hear me out – why don’t you come back with me,” she offered. “You can get cleaned up, maybe help out around the dream center, and I’ll give you a lift once we’re done.”

Bright Shine didn’t respond. His head didn't leave his hooves.

“Either way, you should better hurry and decide. The Quills and Sofas spinner mare usually shows up around this time.

“Fine,” he quickly relented, throwing up his hooves.

It was a risk, he knew, following the Princess back into the dream center. But it was a risk he would take. He needed a shower and a ride. “But I am not going back in your little dream machine,” he warned. He didn’t need another full-frontal assault on his subconscious by the Princess, who by now he was halfway convinced to be psychotic. “And don’t think this means I’m going to work for you. I don’t care what my prescription is.”

“No, no, of course not. Just hang out for the morning, then I’ll take you home, I promise. You’d only have to help Gilbert and Pepper,” Luna assured him. “But not Broodly,” she added, scooping up Tiberius with a heave. “He doesn’t play well with others.”

“Sir, please, you can’t have any food or drink before the procedure,” Pepper was explaining as Bright Shine and Luna strode into the dream chamber. “I’m going to have to ask you to put the protein shake down. Maybe even consider laying off them for a while as well,” Pepper muttered under her breath.

But the alabaster mountain of a pony held on to the shake bottle tight, refusing to part with it. “But I’m on a strict regiment,” he said, his considerable size crammed into the ragged dream chair. “I still have three more to go.”

The bulky stallion was probably the most muscular pony Bright Shine had ever seen. Even his forehead seemed to have muscles, bloodshot red eyes sunken into his thick skull. Bright Shine almost hadn’t also noticed the patient was a pegasus, two puny wings, smaller than a foal’s, peeking from his muscle-rippled back.

“Woah,” Luna whistled. “You’re a big fellow.”

The pony smiled and gave a throaty laugh. “Thanks.”

“This is Mr. Biceps,” Pepper introduced the patient as he took another long chug from his protein bottle with his comparatively small hooves. “He’s our morning appointment. Mr. Biceps, this is Dr. L and – Bright shine." Peppercorn beamed with energy. "Glad to see you made it bright and early for your first day."

“I’m…not – no,” Bright stammered sleepily before trying to explain. “Whatever, just tell me what to do.” He just needed to get through a few hours with these ponies, and he would be done with them for good.

“Pepper, why don’t you help Gilbert warm up the dream core,” Luna offered. “And Bright, let's get to know–“ she levitated the patient file to her and flicked it open "–why don’t we get to know Bulk Biceps a little better.”

“Sure, fine,” Bright Shine griped. "Whatever will get this over with the fastest."

“Now, we can't rush the healing process, Bright Shine. How’s about we start off with a few simple questions for the patient,” Luna said, pulling up a chair.

“Uh, I’m not really good with questions,” Bulk Biceps tapped his hooves nervously. “Is this a test?”

“No test,” Luna assured him with a pat of one of his enormous biceps. “I just need to know a few details. What brought you here today?”

“Well,” the big pony pondered for a moment. “That would be the bus.”

Luna stopped with her notes. Bulk Bicep's face was as solid as stone.

"Uh–" Bright Shine shot Luna a sideways glance.

“I mean, why did you come in today?” she asked again, carefully enunciating each word, as if talking to a foal.

“Oh,” the muscular pony grinned sheepishly. “That’s what you meant. I’ve been having these weird dreams, Doc,” he began. “They’re really starting to get to my head. If I don’t get them to stop soon, they’re going to start cutting into my workout routine,” he said, a tinge of unease lingering on his words.

“That’ll certainly be a tragedy,” Bright Shine deadpanned.

“Bright Shine,” Luna chastised, “We need to be understanding. Tell me about these nightmares, Bulk. What is causing you to worry?”

“It's the water,” he related. “A flood – it comes every night, this deep dark water that swallows everything. And no matter what I do, I can’t move. I’m always stuck, frozen in place. And everything kinda drains away, all the happy feelings. It’s like a weight pulling me down harder than an overloaded bell bar.”

“I see,” Luna followed. “And do you have any idea this flooding you experience might represent? Anything that you can tell us?”

Bulk shook his head, his thick neck bulging beneath his head. “Nothing. I usually get so afraid I wake myself up just before my head sinks under.”

“And has anything been happening in life that could be contributing to these nightmares? Any recent instability or trouble socially or with work.”

He pondered the question for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I just started up a second for-hire workout training session in the afternoons. Things haven’t been better,” he insisted. “So why can’t I sleep well at night?”

“Interesting,” Luna scratched her chin. “Well, we're not going to get any answers out here. It’s time you and I take a dive in your dreams my muscular friend. Just as soon as we get you sedated.” Luna scanned the dream chamber. “Speaking of which, has anypony seen Broodly?”

Gilbert shook his head behind his view window. “Haven’t seen him all morning, Doc,” his high-pitched voice crackled through the speakers around the chamber.

“Cover your neck, Bright Shine, and keep your eyes on the rafters," Luna ordered. "That bat pony could be anywhere,” she said, instinctively covering her jugular veins.

“M-My neck? Why? Bat ponies don’t actually drink blood, do they?” Bright Shine gulped, his eyes wide.

“No, just a common myth,” she educated him. “But the moon cycles do make him battier than an actual bat. Those teeth of his could rip out your windpipe faster than a coked-out pegasus could clear clouds.”

“Sweet fires of Tartarus,” he whispered softly, watching the shadowy rafters.

“We do not need a repeat of four years ago."

“What happened four years ago?” Bright Shine asked woefully. The blood was draining from his face faster with each second searching the shadows.

But Luna was too busy scanning the rafters. “He could be watching us right now, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“What do we do?” Bright Shine asked, nervously hopping from hoof to hoof.

“What is yous guys talking abouts,” a deep voice rasped from behind Bright Shine at the nape of his neck. Bright fell to the ground with a sharp yelp, his hooves pressed tight against the pulsing veins in his neck.

“Whats is matter with hims?” Broodly asked, a half-eaten sandwich clutched in a leathery wing. His baggy eyes looked over Bright Shine’s fetal figure with mild anticipation. “Rough first day on job, that one?”

“Ah, there you are, Brood,” Luna said, ignoring Bright Shine huddling at their hooves. “We were looking for you. The patient is ready to be sedated,” she claimed, patting Bulk on his giant shoulder.

“Woahs,” Brood spoke around a biteful of sandwich, sizing up the massive stallion. “He is going to needs extra strong sedative.”

“Just try not to make this one’s heart stop,” Luna strongly recommended. “We’re trying to help ponies, not send them into cardiac arrest.”

“Three times!” Broodly hissed unappreciatively. “It only happened three times that week.”

“How is he,” Luna wondered, peering through the window of the control room. The lights of the dream chamber flickered consistently, the dream core consuming the facility’s energy greedily as it rendered the patient’s subconscious.

“Patient is standing by in calibration, Doc,” Gilbert updated, swinging around in his chair. It was a raggedy piece of furniture covered in loose feathers. It was parked before his console and was covered in panels and indicators that poked through the worn stuffing. Multi-colored wires and cables merged with the trunk of the control terminal before arriving at the banks of dusty and overheating servers crowding the rear of the dark and musty control room. It was a poor IT tech’s worst nightmares, connections unlabeled and tangled, cooling units whirring fruitlessly against the dust caked to the filters in an unyielding attempt to move heat away from the copper and silicon monstrosity that was the dream core.

“Whoa, this place is way out,” Bulk Biceps voice crackled from the console, though his body was out cold in the dream chamber. His voice wavered and popped, arriving with a deep echo from his simulated reality.

“This is calibration,” Luna replied into a headset, watching the rendered view of the dream on Gilbert’s monitor. The world was displayed through his point of view, Bulk flexing his hooves and inspecting them. He held them against the virtual night sky, watching the mesmeric starlight refract across his coat.

“It seems so real.”

“We’ve tapped directly into your mind, Bulk. We can see everything you dream, hear everything you hear. And you're doing great,” she congratulated him. “I’ll be in there with you in one second. Just hang tight until then, big guy.”

“Uh, ok then,” he grunted. “I guess I’ll just wait here. Wait, is that a sign spinner?” he paused. “I hate those guys.”

“I don’t get it, Doctor,” Peppercorn remarked, leafing through her manual of Fears and Frustrations. “This should be a simple case of representation, the patient’s fears manifesting as dark waters. What are you so unsure of?”

“What do you mean you’re having a sale?” Bulk muttered, though it wasn’t enough to draw Luna’s attention.

“I don’t know yet,” Luna admitted. “Call it a hunch. Something about how he talked of his nightmare felt off. This is a different kind of fear.”

“No, I don’t need any quills.”

“Um, Luna,” Bright Shine called from the dream chamber. “I think the big fella here is moving,” he said nervously, Bulk shifting in his chair. But his concern went unnoticed.

“Could it be redirection?” offered Pepper. “Perhaps some insecurity manifesting as a physical embodiment of a flood in his nightmares? His tiny wings? It would explain his predisposition to bodybuilding.”

“No, do not need a new sofa.” Bulk was shifting even more in his chair.

“It’s a possibility.” Luna’s eyes continued to scroll through the data from the dream. Something had to be hiding in all those numbers, the answer that she was looking for. There was more to this patient than the others would admit.

“I. Do. Not. Want. A. Couch,” Bulk Biceps spelled out. Suddenly, he was out of the chair in the dream chamber. The stallion’s eyes were still closed, his face blank as he swayed on his hooves, a network of electrodes still attached to his head. His body tensed, his great muscles bulging as he flexed, though his eyes remained closed as if in a fitful slumber.

“Woah!” Bright Shine took a leap back. “Doc, he’s out the chair! Doc?!”

“This not good,” Brood said, retreating from the pegasus.

If Luna heard either of them, it wasn’t enough concern to pull her away from her search of the data.

“What is a pony as strong as you afraid of?” she wondered, engrossed in numbers and strings pulled across the monitor. "It can't just be a little water."

“I don’t want to buy anything! Leave me alone!” Bulk Biceps screamed through the monitor. His sleepwalking form let out a terrified cry, his ripped forelegs snatching ahold of Bright Shine and lifting him above his head as if he were light as a feather.

“Oh dear, he’s attacking the advertisement in calibration,” Gilbert chirped, his beady eyes peering into the dream monitor. They watched Bulk’s dream form lift the terrified sign spinner high above his head and give the poor advertisement mare several twirls.

“Sweet Celestia, he’s going to kill me!” Bright Shine shouted from the dream chamber. He was caught in Bulk’s grasp, spun like a top above the enraged pegasus in a physical rendition of his dream state.

“Oh, stars.” Luna ducked into the viewport. “I think we should be more worried about Bright Shine, Gilbert,” she breathed, finally noticing the stallion's healthy screams. She scrambled into the chamber. “Sedation!” she cried. “Broodly, we need sedation!”

“That dose I gives him was enough to knock outs a manticore!” Broodly exclaimed, his flank pressed against the wall as the enraged bodybuilder swung Bright Shine like a ragdoll.

“Plan B,” Luna announced, strapping herself into her dream chair. “Gilbert, we’re going to bypass calibration. Push him through and I’ll go in to try and calm him down,” she instructed, tendrils of magic sprouting from her horn and melding with the connection to the dream core. “Pepper, do your thing. Sedate the big guy before he tears Bright in two,” she managed before lumping in her chair, hanging against the buckles. She was gone in an instant, her mind in the dream.

“Rodger, Doc,” the little mare acknowledged.

Pepper aimed her horn at the massive stallion, Bulk’s hooves still locked tight on Bright Shine. Bright Shine was out of breath from screaming. “Make it stop,” he gurgled dizzily.

Pepper’s sights were lined up, her horn throbbing with magic that was ready to explode. “Sorry big guy,” she apologized. “This probably won’t hurt too bad, I hope.”

Her horn exploded, the blast hitting Bulk square in the chest and knocking him back into his seat. Her aim had been perfect.

Bright Shine, however, no longer clutched in Bulk’s teeny hooves, flew in a graceful arc before colliding headfirst into the hard chamber wall. He fell to the ground with a loud crack and did not move.

“Nice shot,” Brood finally said after a moment, whistling through his fangs. Bulk’s unconscious form was practically unscathed save for the thin trail of smoke that wafted from a singed patch of coat on his chest.

“He looks ok from my end,” Gilbert chipped in from his station. “Dream is holding steady. He bypassed calibration. It up to the Doc now.” He sounded relieved, his claws clattering across his keyboard, monitors glowing in his glasses.

Peppercorn wiped the sweat from her forehead, her horn hot to the touch. “I don’t think I did any lasting damage.”

“And the new guy,” Brood wondered, peering over to Bright Shine’s still form. “Uh-ohs. Has anypony checks to sees if he’s breathings?” the bat wondered quizativly.

The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 2

“That’s pathetic, Biceps. Is that what you call effort?”

The old, grizzled minotaur was mere inches away from Bulk Bicep's face, spittle flying from his saggy cheeks with every condemnation. His one good eye, wild and red, rolled in its socket.

“Why, I’ve seen breezies with more determination than you, Biceps. Are you telling me you came all this way for nothing?”

“I can do it, Coach,” Bulk Biceps insisted, bearing the overladen barbell between his hooves and heaving with all his might.

Luna stood on the sidelines among throngs of spectators. She watched with calm observation as the pegasus struggled fruitlessly, veins popping out his forehead like roots of a great tree and sweat beading on his eggshell-white coat. Still, the bar didn't budge.

“This is it, Biceps. This is the championship,” the minotaur grunted, waving over the crowd that packed the stadium. “Are you telling me you’re going to wimp out now, in front of all these ponies?”

“No, Coach,” Bulk puffed through his clenched teeth. Luna could see he was giving it his all, his close-cropped golden mane quivering with spasms that bounded up his back. He pulled harder and harder for the same conclusion. The barbell refused to budge.

Bulk squatted low, spreading his hooves and lifting with all his might. His eyes bulged till they were red, his biceps rippling beneath his skin, and his little wings flapped madly. But still, the bar did not move.

The crowd was beginning to murmur around Luna. Gone were the sporadic whistles and cheers of excitement. The judges, slack-eyed ponies in suits, watched with little interest at the alabaster pegasus standing his ground, giving the bar everything he had and then more.

“Pathetic,” the minotaur snorted, shaking his head. “I knew I should have put in that Apple stallion instead of you. He might not talk much, but at least he knows what real effort is,” Coach added before stomping off the spotlight court. "No will–" he snorted "–no way."

“No, no! Coach!” Bulk cried after the minotaur, refusing to let go of the bar. The murmurs in the crowd had reduced to whispers, and the judges were looking expectantly toward the referee. Luna could tell they didn’t want to waste any more time. Bulk was seconds away from forfeit.

But before Luna could even step from the grandstand, to reach out to her patient in need, a call echoed over the crowd.

“You can do it, Bulky!”

Bulk’s ears perked up, and he turned his wet eyes toward the source.

Luna spotted her high in the stands. She was an old mare, petite glasses perched on her snout, and a purse clutched in her wrinkled hooves. She could have been anypony's granny, was it not for the fact that she was ripped from head to hoof. She was a specimen of muscle, a sculpture of brawn.

She was standing above the others, hooves that were dwarfed by her biceps cupped around her muzzle.

“You can do it, Bulk! Grandma knows you can!”

Bulk's head bowed beneath the stadium lights, his face concealed by his shadow. He sized the barbell at his hooves, glancing at the enormous weights secured at either end.

"Show them what Grandma taught you," the old mare growled from high above.

The words gripped Bulk, electrifying the pegasus like a bolt of lightning. He reached down, seizing the bar in his hooves and spreading his hindlegs like steel columns.

He pulled and strained until he cried out, his roar echoing around the packed stadium. The crowd had shifted; everypony's eyes were focused on the weight clutched in his iron grasp.

One inch, then two – Luna witnessed a sliver of space as the bar lifted off the mat, Bulk’s teeth clenched tight.

“That’s my grandson!” the old mare shouted with glee, pointing for everypony around her to see. They had joined her, the ponies in the stands whistling and cheering for him. Their hooves stomped and stamped on the wood, the stadium filled with the clatter till the lights overhead swayed.

Even Luna had to offer her own words of encouragement.

“She believes in you, Bulk.” She called out to him, the bar hovering at chest level, bending beneath the mighty weights. “Do it for her,” Luna bid, pointing to the old mare. “For what she means to you.”

With a roar that rivaled a lion, the barbell swung over his head, Bulk presenting if for the enamored spectators, and he held it triumphantly for them all to see. The audience erupted, Grandma in the stands jumping up and down, hugging several of the excited onlookers in her massive forelegs. Bulk held on tight, the bar refusing to waver, his grip strong and firm. The judges had their champion.

Yet Luna noted Bulk's eyes were not focused on the wild crowds, or the judges raising their scorecards. His attention was reserved for only a single pony in the stands.

It wasn't until after the awards were handed out, and the crowd had thinned, that Luna was able to approach the champion.

“Amazing performance,” Luna congratulated, nodding to the gold medal around Bulk’s thick neck. “Words I think will mean more if it comes from her.”

Princess Luna stepped aside as the old mare ran up to him, wrapping a beefy foreleg around the stallion. “Grandma is so proud of you, dearie. I knew you had it in you.”

“Thank you, Grandma,” He breathed breathlessly, returning the embrace. “And thank you for the words of encouragement, Doctor,” he said, looking toward Luna.

“It was hardly my words that helped you,” Luna claimed. “You had it in you. It sometimes takes a little encouragement from the ones we love to remind of what we are capable of.” She smiled, admired the gleaming medal. “But this was not why we were here, is it, Bulk,” she revealed. “No, you have all the support you need here,” Luna admitted, gesturing to Grandma Biceps. “This isn’t something to fear. This is a celebration. So, where are these nightmares hiding, Bulk?”

Grandma Biceps clutched the big stallion tight, oblivious to the alicorn beside her. “If they could be here now," she sighed softly. "I know they would be so proud of you, too, Bulky.”

“What did you say, Grandma?” Bulk wondered as something cold touch Luna's hooves.

The Princess looked down, a thin shimmer of water covering the floor of the stadium.

"Who would be proud of me, Grandma?" Bulk Biceps asked again, water suddenly rising to slosh at his ankles. "W–Who?" He could hardly notice the water that was rising to swallow them.

“Gilbert, we’re here,” Luna called out, watching the water quickly rising around them. It was pouring in, flooding the stadium, cold and bone-numbing. “We are on the verge of a full-blown nightmare. Are you reading this, Gilbert? Gilbert?”

“Do yous thinks he is deads?”

“He sure looks like it.”

“Gilbert, that’s a terrible thing to say!”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” the big bird wondered. “'Gee, that sure is a lot of blood. Just walk it off,’ doesn’t exactly sound positive, does it now, Pepper. Trust me; I've seen a dead body before. New guy definitely bit the big one, boys.”

"How would you knows what dead bodies would look like," Broodly gripped. "You never leaves this place as it is, you hermit!"

"Just–" the griffon paused and reached a claw down, pressing it against Bright Shine's neck. He waited several seconds, his eyes searching. "Shit!" he exclaimed, pulling his claw back and running a paw through his feathers. He started to pace the dream chamber.

For a moment, they stood anxiously around Bright Shine’s still form. He hadn't moved from where he had been thrown, Bulk Biceps quietly murmuring in the throughs of his dream behind them. A thin stream of dark red had dried where it had leaked from Bright Shine's ear.

“What are we’s going to do?” Broodly nibbled on a hoof, finally breaking the silence. “Does anypony knows he’s here? Are they going to come looking for Bright Shine?”

“I don’t know," Gilbert piped, throwing his paws in the air. "Do your manuals have anything about where to dump a body, Pepper?” Gilbert scratched a sweaty claw at his neck, a fresh cloud of molting feathers swirling around him.

“They’re dream manuals for Celestia's sake, Gilbert,” Pepper snorted snidely. “Not body dumping manuals. I can't believe you.”

“Oh, we’s are so goings to prison. I can’t go to prisons.” Brood covered his orange eyes with his hooves, huffing silent tears. “Not again. I don’t want to be the little ‘bath bat.’”

“Just calm down. Everypony, just calm down!” Gilbert squawked. “Nopony is going to find out. Nopony is going to prison. Nopony is going to be... whatever Broodly was,” he said, producing more weeping from the scarred bat pony. “Pepper, you grab his front. Broodly, pull yourself together and take the rear. I know somepony who can make all this like it never happened. Even the Doc won't be the wiser.”

“Wait!” Luna called out to Bulk.

But if he heard her, he had no intention of stopping. He sloshed through the floodwaters that reach to his chest, the stallion forcing his way through the current.

“Bulk, you can’t run from your nightmares. You have to face them, just like lifting that barbell.”

“It isn’t the same!” Bulk called back as he waded through the empty stadium concourse. The crowds were gone, the celebration over, nopony in sight. The clouds boiled an angry back outside, painting the windows of the stadium with fat raindrops.

“But you don’t even know what you are afraid of," Luna pleaded. "Tell me, what is it that you are so afraid of? Is it the water?”

“I–I don’t know,” he admitted, the water reaching his broad shoulders. “I just know that I can’t do it; I can’t face it.”

Luna horn glowed, the air around her tingling with magic. She was tired of running, of swimming through the cold water that bit at her coat.

“Stop!” she commanding, teleporting in front of the charging stallion with a mighty splash.

Bulk Bicep's head tucked itself between his muscular forelegs, shielding himself from Luna. His eyes were shut tight, but she could still see the stains beneath them.

She had been the audience to many nightmares: all drew on some form of fear. But this was different, she could see – this was no rational fear. The tears alone told her that. Ponies, or any other creature, never cried in dreams from normal, instinctual fear.

“It’s memories,” she said, standing over Bulk. “I should have seen this before. Your fear is centered around memories.”

“But I don’t remember what they are, or what the water is supposed to be,” Bulk sniffled through his forelegs, floating in the floodwater. "I just want to get over them."

“That’s ok,” Luna told him, stroking his bristly mane with a tender hoof. “That's what we're here for. You have help.” She stood up, wading to a door set into the stadium wall. “You still carry those forgotten memories within you, but your fear is keeping them from you. We just have to go deeper – deeper into the subconscious.”

Luna twisted the knob, pulling the door open to reveal a fresh torrent of water. It poured through like a river, gurgling with power. Bulk’s intense red eyes lifted from his hooves, gazing into the mute light of the flooded doorway.

Luna could see it his eyes; this was taking him someplace familiar. Just what they needed to break through the repression.

“I can open this door,” she explained. “But the next one – the one that counts – that has to be you, Bulk. Only you can open that final door and face what haunts you.”

“I’ll" – he swam cautiously toward her – "I’ll try.” The water was at their necks.

“That’s all we need,” Luna said, beckoning him through the door. "I'm right behind you."

With a deep breath and a shiver from the cold water, Bulk swam through the flooded door.

“Bulky!”

The old mare greeted them with a smile. She trotted into the quaintly decorated living room, hair pulled into a bun, glasses perched on her wrinkled nose, and a tank top on, reveling her sinewy muscles. “You made it home right in the nick of time. I just put a tray of cookies in the oven,” she said, wrapping the colossal stallion in a bear hug and lifting him off the floor. "And look at this," the old mare beamed. "You brought a friend."

“Everything is exactly how I left it this morning,” Bulk squeaked, the air crushed from his lungs. “It seems so real, Doc.”

“Home is always the most detailed construct in our mind,” Luna told him. She slowly walked around the living room, admiring the many mementos decorating the mantle place.

Grandma Biceps set him down, allowing him to breathe again. “Why don’t you spot Grandma while the cookies are finishing up,” she said, quickly laying down on the weight bench in the corner. She grasped the bar tight, weathered wings splayed as she cranked out long extended reps. Bulk obediently spotted the old mare, watching that it would not fall. Even if he knew her strength had never failed before, even in age.

Luna browsed over the mantle, observing medals, pictures both new and old. “They’re all of you,” Luna pointed.

“I don’t like to show them off as much,” Bulk shrugged, his face glowing a bare hint of pink. “But she does. Grandma shows them to anypony who stops by.”

“She must be pretty proud of all you have accomplished.” She read the awards aloud as she passed them. “Strong Stallion Champion, Mr. Ponyville, Iron Will Award, Professional Masseur License…”

Ding-dong!

The doorbell chimed, a cold quiet following in its presence. Luna looked to the door, a soft rain pattering against the frosted window.

Dark figures waited outside.

The time had arrived.

Bulk had to have known, too. The stallion was as stiff as a board, frozen where he stood.

“Those cookies are probably ready by now,” Grandma Biceps proclaimed, racking her weight and sliding off the bench. “Why don’t you see who is at the door, Bulk.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

Luna moved silently across the living room to stand beside the door.

“It’s time, Bulk,” Luna said.

Bulk gulped, petrified before the entrance, eyes wide, unmoving. “I–I know. I think I've been here before. But I’ve never been able to open the door.”

“You have to believe in yourself," Luna proclaimed. "Your subconscious might be telling you that you can’t open that door, or that you're not strong enough to face what is on the other side. But you know that deep down inside, you, the real you – the one right here and now – can face what lies beyond here," she said, placing a hoof on the door jamb. A thin trickle of water seeped below the bottom seal.

"Your subconscious influences your every choice, Bulk, but it is you that gets the final say. You get to decide. So what do you want to say?”

“I – I’m ready.”

“I opened the first door, but this one has to be you." She stepped aside.

Bulk Bicep’s hoof firmly grasped the bronze knob. He twisted it, the door sliding inward to reveal their guests. Two black figures stood, waiting, at the foot of the steps. The featureless figures dripped with the steady rain that poured from the sky.

Bulk shook but held his ground.

“You're not afraid of these ponies, are you, Bulk?” Luna wondered, peering into their featureless faces.

“No,” he gulped.

“But you are afraid of what they mean, of the memory that they represent.”

He nodded curtly.

“I think its time you remember what that memory was. Go to them,” she said, delivering a gentle nudge with her wing.

One step, then two – Bulk slowly crept onto the porch. His hoofsteps were heavy, each one a battle as he inched down the steps toward the black ponies. Their features were forgotten, waiting to be remembered. Their eyes were the only thing visible, twin beams of bright light that gazed through the rain upon the stallion that stopped before them. He stood, shaking from his ears to his cropped tail in the downpour.

“Now what?” he gasped, not daring to tear his gaze from the black ponies.

“Tell them,” Luna commanded. “Tell them what they need to hear. The words have been on the tip of your tongue this whole time, Bulk. Let them hear.”

Bulk drew in a deep breath. His lungs were burning, and his stomach was doing flips, but he stood his ground. The words were there, ready to be released. He was ready.

“Don’t leave me.”

The stallion at the foot of the porch, once large enough to block a door, was a pale, skinny foal quivering in the rain. One of the figures before him reached out with a gentle hoof, stroking the wet side of his face.

“We’re sorry,” the figure spoke with the soft voice of a mare. It knelt down, the curtain of shadow wafting away till the mare behind it was visible at last. She wrapped a foreleg tight around little Bulk, drawing him close till his head rested on her blond, soaked mane. “Mamma and Pappa are so sorry, Bulk.”

“Please, don’t go,” Bulk begged, clutching her tight. “Why are you leaving me?” he wondered. “What did I do wrong?”

The second figure was beside him, an azure stallion with a neatly trimmed beard that dripped. “Listen to me, Bulk,” his voice stern as he lifted the colt's head. “None of this was your fault. Do you hear me?” the stallion spoke, quickly wiping a stray droplet that ran down his glasses. “This was Mamma’s and Pappa’s mistakes. And we’re going to fix them. But we have to leave you with Grandma for a while. Just until we fix them.”

“But I don’t understand!” Bulk wept, his tears mixing with the rain.

“Penstroke,” the mare urged him. “We have to hurry. Any longer and they might find us. We have to leave.”

“Just hold on, Parchment,” he begged, gripping Bulk tight. “Look at me, son,” he ordered. “I know you don’t understand, but we’re going to make everything right. Then we will be back as soon as we can,” he said. “Until then, you have to be strong. Be strong for Mamma and Pappa.”

“I will be strong!” Bulk cried, refusing to let go. “I promise I’ll be strong, just don’t leave me!”

Parchment, with great pain, pulled little Bulk free of Penstroke, quickly sliding his tiny saddlebags with all he had left in the world on him. “We’ll call when we’re safe,” she said to Grandma Biceps standing reverently on the porch. Luna watched the mother try her hardest not to look back at the weeping foal on the porch steps. Together she and her husband dashed for the waiting taxi that stood on the rain-choked curb.

“Please, no,” Bulk whimpered, curling up on the wet steps. “I’ll be strong, I promise.”

Grandma Biceps knelt, hugging the soaking colt tight in her big forelegs as the taxi sped off down the flooded streets. “Shh, it’s ok,” she shushed his tears away. “Grandma is here.”

Luna watched the old mare’s eyes follow the yellow checkered wagon as it sped down the road and around the corner, lost from sight. “Grandma is here, Bulk. We’ll look after each other. How does that sound?”

Bulk waited, sniffling. “Ok,” he squeaked.

“That’s my big, strong grandson,” she affirmed. “Whenever you’re ready, why don’t you come inside. We get you dry, and I’ll have some cookies ready.”

Luna watched Grandma Biceps stand, trotting back up the steps, pause for a moment long enough to gaze upon the distant street, then disappeared again inside.

For when Luna turned back, the little weeping foal was gone, replaced by the same muscular stallion that he had become.

Bulk sat on the steps in the gentle storm, watching the same road that the taxi had turned down. His eyes were still wet, and his coat was drenched.

“She sits by the phone,” he sighed. “Every night, after her cup of tea, she sits in her chair by the phone. She’s still waiting for that phone call, after all these years. It's just been so long, I forgot – or wanted to forget – the call she was waiting for.”

“Has she ever tried to explain what happened?” Luna asked, sitting beside the stallion that dwarfed her. The rain gently fell around her shoulders. “Why they felt you would be safer here?”

Bulk shook his head solemnly. “I’ve tried to ask once or twice before, many years ago. But I think it’s too much for both of us. Yet, they still haunt me. Not them of course,” he clarified. “But, that day still follows me no matter where I go. The rain,” he muttered, kicking at a puddle at his feet. "The rising waters each night."

“Is that why you began lifting weights?” Luna wondered.

“Be strong,” he repeated. “For the longest time, I thought they meant physically. Silly, I know," he chuckled. "Maybe, for a time, I thought it might somehow make them come back sooner – at all.” He kicked a pebble down the walkway. “I guess I was wrong about that.”

Luna mulled over his words for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that,” she rebutted. “Look back on all you have accomplished," she told him." Look at the championship, at your achievements, your success. Do you think you did it all with shear strength alone?”

Behind them, humming drifted out from the kitchen and onto the porch, as well as the scent of cookies fresh out the oven.

Luna nodded to the front door. “Because I think somepony gave you a different kind of strength: the strength to push on when things get tough.”

“Bulk,” Grandma Biceps called from inside. “Those cookies are ready. Why don’t you come inside and have one? Then we can have a nice evening work on glutes and abdominal crunches.”

Luna stood up from the porch and waited by the front door, her coat dripping. “What do you say, Bulk? Are you strong enough? Even if you might not find the closure to your answers?”

Bulk gazed upon the door, turning his back on the rainstorm. He slowly reached out and grasped the knob. With a click, it swung open, the entrance a bright portal of light. Luna beckoned him in.

“I think" – he nodded to himself – "I think I’ll be alright. I have a little help,” he told her with a nod. “And a kick-ass grandma, too,” he chuckled, smiling with a toothy grin, and stepped through.

Perspective

Tell me, what is the most valuable thing you can think of?

It might seem like an odd question, but it is a rather simple one. What is the most prized resource in Equestria? Is it bits, the coins we spend on necessities, or throw at dancers on poles for enjoyment.

All the bits in the world couldn't buy the answer I am thinking of.

Is it a pile of jewels, the horde of a fearsome dragon?

Nay, for not even a mountain of precious stones can compare to the most valuable item.

Perhaps it is not a physical commodity. What if it were power? Power to rule, or power to command.

My clueless reader, power is powerless against what ponies would give for the most sought after commodity.

Is it love, the magical feeling we get when we see our significant other or a five-layer burrito drenched in cheese queso.

You see, the beauty of such a question is that to answer it requires perspective.

'Ah, here we go again with the big words,' I can already hear you moaning as you read this. 'But what is perspective, you sexy sea dog?'

Well, let me enlighten you, my doleful audience.

The Royal Equestrian Literary Dictionary defines perspective as: a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view.

If you don't like the egghead explanation, here is perspective as defined by your’s truly.

Perspective is noticing the smoking hot mare across the room as you sit drinking, alone (of course), in the corner of some dark bar in the port of Trottingham. It's Hearths Warming Eve, and the patrons are full of cheer, downing their drinks like fish and singing their merry tunes. The wind is howling fiercely outside as the temperature plummets, and snow softly patters against the windows.

The mare is wearing a thick, red-tinseled sweater, seated alone at the bar beneath the dim and smoky lights. So you, being the smooth, confidant stallion you are, casually slide over. Maybe you straighten up, brush the crumbs from your coat, scrape the mud from your filthy hooves before you order her a tall glass of cider.

And sweet stars, what a piece this mare is. She gazes over you with those soft, blue eyes as you casually introduce yourself. You just sailed into port; you need somepony to show you around.

You slide her the cider, your own eyes wandering to her luxurious long mane, the way it’s pinned back, how it flows like a waterfall down her slender neck all the way to her toned flanks. She smiles sweetly, taking a tentative sip of the cider, her tender lips glistening with the amber liquid. And your heart, how it flutters as you muster the courage to find the words.

"It sure is cold outside,” you mention with a sly smile. “What do you say we ditch this place and spend Hearth's Warming wrapped in each other's hooves, sharing our body heat in your bed?"

You initially fear you came off too direct. But she flutters those long eyelashes of hers at you, leaning close and rubbing your foreleg with a hoof. The blood rushes from your head. Her hooves are as soft as butter.

She leans in close, her lips mere inches from your ear that it tickles. And she whispers to you.

"You can help me warm my bed any day, baby."

Only the voice that comes out that beautiful mare is deeper than the ocean's waters. It has a baritone that would make a buffalo blush. And it's then you notice several attributes of this "mare": the Adam's apple peeking from her sweater, the prominent jawline, the elongated brow ridge.

That is the laypony's definition of perspective. Perspective is that beautiful mare watching you from across the bar, waiting to reveal a voice that might as well have been the result of exposure to poison joke.

Perspective is you still taking that hot pony back to their place because you're a gentlepony. You're no quitter.

Where was I going with this?

Perspective? Perspective, right.

The most precious commodity known to ponykind requires perspective.

Because I will tell you the most valuable thing in life isn't gold or bits, not jewels, power, books, or that “mare” in the bar. No, the most sought after resource is silence.

“Silence?” you scoff. You wonder how something as simple as quiet peace of mind could be considered a quality of value.

So we come back to perspective. If you were, for instance, completing a challenging exam, a quiet test area would be quite beneficial toward scoring high marks. You need to concentrate after all.

Or if you were hiding from a ponycidal maniac in the back of a closet, you would hope those sharing your hiding space would have the common sense to stifle the errant sneeze.

Or maybe you just happen to be the new ship cadet who doesn’t know when to shut his beak before the Captain tosses his tail feathers in the briny harbor.

My point (yes, there is a point to all this) is that silence is invaluable.

Silence is golden.

Silence is sometimes all we have.

And the calm, serene silence of Bright Shine’s dreamless sleep evaporated with a loud banging.

“Bright Shine!” he heard a voice somewhere above him as an eye split open.

Luna.

There were several more heavy thumps on the hatch to the employee quarters. The hatch rattled on its hinges.

“Bright Shine, are you up yet? We have a busy day ahead of us. No time to sleep when there is dreaming to be done,” Luna called down before presumably trotting off.

Bright Shine rubbed his tired eyes, untangling himself from a knot of bedsheets. The room was still pitch black, and he couldn’t see a thing. What time was it?

“Gilbert?” he murmured, feeling the empty space around the bunk bed. “Gilbert, are you up? Where is the light? I can't see a bloody thing.”

As if on command, the light came on. Bright Shine sat up in his bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes before he noticed the shrouded bundle of dark, leathery wings hanging from the top bed rail. Two intensely, bright orange eyes peered at Bright Shine from the fold of battish wings. They looked hungry.

Bright Shine froze in his bed, his hooves clutched around his blanket.

For a moment, both ponies regarded each other, Broodly, hanging upside down from the bunk, and Bright Shine huddled beneath his sheets.

Slowly, the folds of the hooked wings drew back, Broodly poking his fanged muzzle out.

“I do not knows why you are here,” he hissed in his low, gravely voice. “But I must warns you that it is unwise to sleeps on that bed. Things have happened on thats bed."

The thestral shivered in the gloomy confines of the basement, wrapping his wings tight around him. "Unspeakable things. Why do you thinks I sleep from the ceiling."

Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 1

Breakfast — in times of turmoil, I find it to be the one thing I can cling to.

For no matter how bad things may seem when you awake to reality, or how bad the hangover, the promise of food can just about temporarily sate even the most disgruntled or woeful creature.

I remember enjoying a morning, in particular, on one of my many travels away from familiar seas. It was in a small village in Saddle Arabia, if I remember correctly, a small collection of buildings braving the biting and searing sands of the endless desert.

I was seated on the veranda, the early morning sun reflecting off the sands like glass, and sweeping away the nightly desert chill.

The cup of coffee in my hooves was warm, the thick brew a welcoming comfort after my long and dangerous journey across the barren lands. An accouterment of fresh fruits from the shallow oasis dragged me from the depths of my exhaustion, renewing me.

My point is that the simple ceremony of breakfast after a rough night removed any fears or worries that had plagued me. Everything was once again right with the world.

Which is why my thoughts had not turned to the group of bandits who had tracked me for so long waiting in hiding outside the veranda. But that is a rambling story for another time.

Because unfortunately for Bright Shine, as the theme dictates, his dream-like aspirations of a pleasant breakfast we’re dashed as he sleepily stumbled into the break room of Sweet Dreams L.L.P.

Luna looked up from her newspaper, a bag of chips tucked under a foreleg. Gilbert and Pepper were peering into the weathered cupboards, the doors swinging on sagging hinges.

“We’ll look who is finally up,” Luna quipped, rummaging in the bag with a hoof and snatching out a heap of the oily, fried potato slices. “And I was being to think you might not wake up at all after yesterday’s incident. Sleep well?” she wondered.

Bright Shine probed the bump on his head with a hissing wince. It was still tender.

“Somewhat,” he remarked with a grumble. He wasn’t about to forgive them so soon for the business with the trunk.

“Of course you's wonders how he is doing,” a cranky voice said accusingly.

Brood limped into the room, Tiberius clinging to one of his hooves like a cement block. “But nopony ever wonders how I am doing." The bat pony paused for a moment beside Bright Shine. "I would like to point out that you snores. Like wildebeest.”

Those intense orange eyes were daggers in Bright Shine as the bat pony slinked past him, dragging the possum on his hoof.

“Now, that’s not fair, Brood,” Gilbert chirped around a snack cake, his beak dusted with high fructose-laced crumbs. “We care about you.”

Pepper slid into one of the wobbly seats around the break room table, a carrot filled pastry fresh out the microwave. “Sometimes,” she quickly added to Gilbert. “Moreso when you’ve recently showered.”

Brood bared his fangs but turned away, muttering curses under his breath as he pulled down a loaf of bread and a jar. Tiberius broke away with a heavy thump and wobbled toward Luna.

“All of you all play nice,” Luna warned with a smirk as she folded up her newspaper. “We don’t have insurance if you all come to blows. So settle it somewhere outside the property line. I would suggest the ally down the street if you’re looking to blow off some steam,” she reminded the rest. “The bums have fights every Tuesday at midnight.”

Bright Shine rubbed the sleep and exasperation out of his eyes. He really had been right, something he was not as accustomed to. These ponies were crazy.

“What—“ he simmered with a withering sigh. “What is there for breakfast around here?” he asked with a wave of a limp hoof. The thought of coffee and something warm was weighing on him.

“Check the cupboard,” Luna said, dragging Tiberius with her. “But don’t be too long. We have a patient arriving for an appointment soon, and I want you with me on this one, Bright Shine.”

“Me?” he blurted.

“Of course. The only way we are going to get to the root of your problems is if we open you up to the experiences of others, to help you see their struggles from a different perspective.”

“I think I’ve already experienced my fair share,” he gulped, remembering struggling in Bulk Bicep's ensnaring hooves.

“Either way, I think you will learn a lot from our next patient.” Luna trotted out of the dingy break room, her hooves echoing on the cracked linoleum. “She’s been a regular for a while,” she called back, her voice fading down the corridor.

Bright Shine slithered around the side of the break room, choking as he walked through a cloud of Gilbert’s ever-present feathers. The griffon was chugging down a soda while Brood somberly tucking into something slathered between two slices of bread.

The bat pony paused between several bites to down a potion from his bandolier of elixirs.

“Vitamins,” he burped loudly after the third vial, smacking his lips.

"Disgusting," Pepper groaned.

Bright Shine wrinkled his nose and opened a cabinet, checking inside for what he was hoping was cereal. Instead, he found only crumbs.

The next one beside it was stocked to the brim with sugary “Big Deborah” snack cakes, a chubby filly in a cowgirl hat embossed on the packages.

Bright Shine scoffed. Was this the only food in the building?

Finally, he turned his sights on the refrigerator in the corner. It was a hulking scrap of metal, the motor a wheezing animal that growled as if it were minutes from dying. Bright Shine gave the door a tug, but it remained firmly closed.

He bent down, eyeing a keyhole. Multiple deep scratches radiated from the lock. It looked like they were from a screwdriver. Who even locks a fridge?

“I told you it was locked that time,” Gilbert said, wiping the crumbs, remnants of the snack cakes, from his beak in a puff of feathers. “The last intern had the key on her when she disappeared.”

“Never did find her, did you?” Pepper wondered.

The griffon shook his head. “No. But the Doc says we can’t afford a locksmith.”

“Don’t you ever wonder what happened to her?” Bright Shine settles for a bag of carrot chips, the salty crisps sour on his unwashed tongue. “Or for that matter, why you haven’t just used magic to pick the lock. One of the two with any spells here is probably the most powerful pony in Equestria,” he huffed.

“We’ve tried,” Peppercorn replied with a shrug. “The Doc got the fridge from some ratty pawn shop a few blocks over. Evidently, the last owner had a magical ward. Only way in is with the key.”

Broodly looked up from his sandwich of an unidentifiable substance. His ears twitched, his eyes peering up to the dust-choked air vents. “Do you guys — ever like, hear things in the air ducts?” he asked around a mouthful.

“For stars sake, Brood.” Pepper rubbed her forehead with her hooves. “For the last time, no. You just hear things. Probably from all the fumes in that storage closet you call a lab, you disgusting thestral. Those sandwiches of your's reek," she grimaced.

“You cannots talks to me like thats!” Brood hollered, his chest puffed till the hairs stood on end. He looked like an ugly pigeon. An angry pigeon. "Always so means to me," he huffed. "You's ponies never gives me any respec—“

Ding!

Somewhere a bell interrupted the heated exchange.

“What was that?” Bright Shine asked around a mouthful of chips. They were a disappointing breakfast.

Ding, ding, ding! the bell replied angrily.

“Hello?!” A gravelly mare's voice echoed through the dream center. “HELLO!”

“Oh no’s,” Brood gulped, ducking beneath the table. “She’s back.”

“Back?” Bright Shine pokes his head out of the break room and into the hall. He could see a yellow pegasus in dark aviators smoldering behind the reception desk impatiently. “Who’s back?”

“Get back in here!” Gilbert hissed, his eyes saucers behind his thick glasses. “She’ll see you.”

“Hey!” he could hear the pony outside. “I know you all are back there. Stop hiding and get your sorry flanks out here, double-time. I don’t have time for this.”

“What do we do’s?” Broodly whimpered, scuttling from beneath the table and hightailing it atop the cabinets. “So angry, that one.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Just be quiet,” Pepper warned, backing away from the door. “Maybe she’ll leave. Gilbert, did you know she would be coming in today?”

Ding! Ding! “Don’t make me come back there,” the pony in the waiting room warned.

“You’re the receptionist,” the griffon pointed out. “Why didn’t you warn us?”

Ding! “I’m going to set a new academy record for kicking somepony’s ass if they don’t stop hiding,” the mare outside warned dangerously.

“I didn’t schedule her!” Pepper pointed out. “Why would I schedule that maniac. It had to be the Doc.”

“But who is she?” Bright Shine asked again, struggling to come across to his coworkers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! the bell continued. “If somepony doesn’t come out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to prop open the front door and let in all the bums!”

Gilbert exchanged worried looks with Pepper and Broodly atop the cabinets. “She wouldn’t. Would she?”

“Hey, guys!” they heard the temperamental mare calling somewhere. “Y’all want some free shit? Come on in! Yeah, just take whatever you want, take it all.”

Suddenly the griffon was up, pushing them for the door. “Go! Go! I’ll get the Doc. Just try to calm her down.”

“But who is she!” Bright Shine puffed as he was shoved into the hallway.

“She showed up a few months ago for help with anger management,” Pepper answered.

“You’ll love her. Her name is Spitfire.”

Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 2

Do you ever find it hard to meet new ponies?

If you want to take some advice from me (usually a poor decision based on my track record), I find a compliment is a great way to introduce yourself to somepony.

I remember one occasion when I was in Manehattan.

I had just attended a show, a play about some ugly alley cats that sang like they were in heat or dying; it wasn't important.

What was important was the after-show party thrown by one of the most influential attendees from Manehattan, this bat pony mare who had made her bits in airships or something — Requiem Nightsong.

I shouldn't have been there by any right, what with the guests mainly being wealthy moguls, the elite, and only the ponies everypony should know.

Then there was me — starving author, lonely sailor, serial drinker whose only cologne was cheap cider. I think I somehow stumbled into the party by accident, to be honest. Manehattan was kind of a blur.

But as I swayed through the party-goers, brushing shoulders with the likes of Sapphire Shores and some rich twat with a blue mustache and a monocle, I saw her: Requiem.

Even from afar and through the blurriness caused by a failing liver, she was stunning. She was in the corner listening to some specimen in a pompadour ramble about something. I could see it in her face; she was dreadfully bored with the pony before her. I knew that I had to speak to her.

I slid through the crowd, snatching an appletini from a waiter and parking myself before her.

She jumped a bit at the sight of me — must have been the Alpha energy extenuated by my very being that seduces even the strongest of ponies' wills.

Or, it might have just been that a sloshed pony in a hawaiian shirt had crept up to her. Either way, I was in.

"You looked a little bored," I told her with a sly smile, handing her the appletini. "You look like you needed something to drink."

"You might just be right," Requiem said in typical Manehattanite colloquial with a roll of her eyes. She snatched the glass in a hooked wing and took a deep swig. Her titanium mane flowed down her long, black dress as she tossed the drink back. The last drops hung on the dark lipstick that accentuated her sharp fangs. They were as white as ivory. Sweet stars, I was head over hooves, absolutely infatuated.

"Thanks," she blew and wiped her lips. "Goddesses, I'm not sure if I can take one more minute of these phony egalitarians. Nice getup by the way," she noted, nodding at my shirt. "You're probably the only pony here who could actually stand out among this pack of prudes."

It was hard to describe just how speechless I was. I'm not sure if what I was feeling was love or the end stages of some venereal disease, but I was struck by it hard.

Requiem must have wondered if I was catatonic, or just plain stupid, what with me starring with my mouth agape, probably drooling over myself.

"Are you feeling alright, love?" she asked, concerned, reaching out to touch me. "You're looking a bit pale."

The touch of her hoof! I was absolutely star-struck as I locked with her eyes, these big, soft, orange lanterns that glowed brightly in the dim surroundings. I was practically mesmerized by them. Those eyes, I still think about them to this day.

"It's your eyes," I said, taking her in my hooves, my heart, or some other organ, swooning.

"My eyes?" She was surprised, but not alarmed, her hoof reaching around me to hold on. "What about them?" she whispered, lifting her head with a flutter of her lashes, revealing the delicate curves of her neck beneath her dress.

"They're—"

My Goddesses, there I was with the words caught in my throat. It was maddening!

"Why they're—"

Here I must pause and divulge a terrible secret, unfortunate reader. For you see, I have not been entirely truthful with you. So let me just get this off my chest and have my peace.

I'm a donkey.

No, not an actual donkey. I mean, I'm a complete ass — an absolute idiot.

Because while I had wanted to compliment Requiem on her stunning eyes, cementing me as a pony of interest in her circle of affluence, I had not counted on the two or eight or so barley beers I had shotgunned to get through the awful play about singing felines.

Because the next thing I remember as the words slipped out was Requiem smashing the empty appletini glass into my head, blackness, then waking up in a ditch (customary) outside the Manehattan port.

All because of a compliment took the wrong way.

Evidently, telling a pretty bat pony her gorgeous, glowing eyes are "bright as fukin' headlights" was the wrong kind of compliment.

So, as a life lesson (if there is one here) is be careful with your compliments. Ponies might always take them the wrong way.

Unfortunately for Bright Shine, he had to find out the hard way that one must be careful with their compliments, as I did. Stars, I still have glass fragments in my skull from that night. Still, Requiem was hot.

Was I talking about Bright Shine?

Right. You see, Bright Shine was screaming.

"Gilbert!" Bright Shine screamed as his hoof was twisted behind his back. "Sweet stars, Gilbert, help!" he cried as his face was smashed into the window of the dream chamber. "Brood! Peppercorn! Anypony! My leg! She's going to break my freaking leg!"

Say it again!" Spitfire spat as the Wonderbolt yanked even harder on his foreleg. The tangle of electrodes swung from her head. "Go on. Repeat what you told me!" she ordered, mashing Bright Shine's face into the glass, Gilbert safely tucked away at his station behind the Dream Core monitors.

"I meant it as a compliment! I swear!" Bright Shine howled, Spitfire increasing the pressure on his hoof as she ground her teeth. "Tell her, Gilbert!" he pleaded. "Tell her I said it as a compliment!"

Gilbert ducked behind his desk as Spitfire peeled Bright Shine's bruised face from the glass only to bash it again. The trembling griffon clicked several switches, steel shutters slowly lowering over the glass, sealing him behind it.

"Sorry, bud," he chirped anxiously through the speakers. "You're on your own. She nearly cracked my beak last visit. I warned you the patient had anger issues."

"I'm about to set an academy record for how hard I can kick your flank," Spitfire whispered dangerously into Bright Shine's ear. "Now, let me hear you say it again. Out loud."

"I only meant it as a compliment," he groaned, his head spinning from the pain. "I promise."

Spitfire gave his hoof another twist behind his back, Bright Shine writing against the glass as he struggled fruitlessly to slip out of her grasp.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Fine!" he hollered, the pressure on his hoof decreasing ever so slightly. His breathing was shallow, and he struggled to get the words out.

"I'm sorry — I commented — you have — veiny wings. I just meant — you look really fit." Bright Shine's eyes fluttered as he was seconds away from passing out. "That's all."

Satisfied, Spitfire released Bright Shine, the gasping stallion curling on the ground and clutching his injured hoof.

The Wonderbolt stooped over him, eyeing him behind her sunglasses, though they were inside.

"Never—" she spoke dangerously. "Never tell a mare she has veiny wings. Understand?" she growled, clenching a hoof.

Bright Shine managed a weak but sharp nod.

"Good," she said, standing up and hopping back into her chair. She shimmied in the seat, getting comfortable while the security shutters lifted over Gilbert's window.

"You alright, Bright Shine?" he asked through the glass.

"I—" He winced and clutched his hoof where he lay. "I think she might have torn something," he said, his face pale and beads of sweat slithering down his face.

"Come on!" Spitfire shouted from the center of the dream chamber. "Let's get this over with. I don't have all day."

She sat up, fiery eyes locked on Gilbert. "But I swear, Birdbrain, if that sign spinner in calibration tries to sell me another sofa, I'm going to kick her teeth in," she promised, sitting back and closing her eyes once more.

"I hate sign spinners."

Why Is Everything On Fire?: Part 3

Are you ready?

Bright Shine tugged against the harness keeping him upright in his chair. It looked like somepony had cobbled the flimsy restraints together with parts out of a dumpster. The nylon straps itched, and he scratched his coat with his good hoof.

"Not really," he groaned, holding his aching hoof against his chest. The familiar cap of sticky electrodes tugged at whisps of mane atop his head, and he had a strange metallic taste on his tongue. "In fact, I'm beginning to have some serious doubts about this, Doc. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go snooping around somepony's dreams."

"Anxiety is a natural defense mechanism, Bright Shine," Luna told him, strapping into her chair beside him. "Anxiety is what keeps us safe, prevents us from venturing forth into the great unknown," she explained, cinching the buckles of her harness tight.

Spitfire lay slumped in a chemical slumber at the center of the dream chamber, her eyes twitching back and forth beneath their lids in the first stages of REM sleep. She looked surprisingly at peace to Bright Shine, a far cry from the vengeful hothead she was while awake.

"You keep talking about going into ponies dreams like we're off on a grand adventure," Bright Shine interjected. "Like you're Daring Do, digging up artifacts in a forgotten temple."

Luna straightened up. "And are you saying it's something less?" she wondered. "Bright Shine, the great unknown, that distant horizon, it's not somewhere out there," she revealed, pointing to the rear exit of the dream chamber.

"It's right there." She gestured to Spitfire, sleeping soundly. "You might not realize it yet, Bright Shine, but you will," she assured him, her eyes almost pitying him. "You just haven't seen it yet."

"Seen what?" he wondered, his head light and his vision dancing with faint, glistening particles from Broodly's dream sedative. His eyes were getting heavy.

"The horizon," she said. "You'll know it when you see it, Bright Shine," Luna said, twisting her hips and getting comfortable. "That horizon is where you'll find your answers to your own sleep problems. We just have to train you to see it, to open up your dreaming."

Bright Shine didn't have time to contemplate Luna's ridiculous musings. He was sweating uncontrollably, his head was spinning, and his tongue — it felt numb.

"Sould i fel this funy?" he asked, his slack tongue garbling his words.

"Funny how?"

"I fink it was the sedatife." He could feel his eyes rolling back in his head, and he was suddenly blind. "Oh fuk!" he gasped, hooves searching the sudden darkness. "I can't fee!"

"Relax," he heard Luna through the veil of the descending curtain of unconsciousness. "It's just a temporary reaction," she assured him. "That is unless Broodly has been cutting the sedative formula with antifreeze again. I told him to stop that."

As Bright Shine plunged further into the familiar darkness enveloping him, and he slumped forward against his harness, he could barely hear Gilbert far off in the distance.

"You had better get in there, Doc. We have a hostage situation in calibration."

Most hostage situations are a delicate affair, best handled by trained professionals.

Tempers run high with coursing adrenaline, ponies make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment, and precious lives hang on the delicate line of life and death. Sometimes things don't always go so well. Sometimes you can't save them all.

But other hostage situations are much stupider affairs.

This was the type of situation Bright Shine found himself caught it.

"Spitfire, please!" Luna begged, standing a safe distance away from the enraged mare. "Think about what you are doing! It doesn't have to be like this!"

Spitfire bristled, backdropped by the infinite star-speckled sky of calibration. She planted her hooves in the prismatic lunar dust that swirled around her hooves. "Stay back," she warned. "I'll do it!"

"Don't just stand there, Bright Shine. Do something!" Luna begged. "How can you just stand there?"

"I don't know?" he shrugged nonchalantly, still captivated by the mesmeric surroundings. "I mean, I can't blame her," he said.

"You don't understand," Luna said forcefully, inching toward Spitfire as if she were approaching a ferocious lion. "This is very unhealthy for her treatment here. We're here to help control her anger, not justify it."

"You don't think this is justified?" Spitfire demanded, incredulously, shaking the sign in her hooves.

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"I warned her each and every time I've been back," Spitfire continued, her words coming hot and thick. She stood in a defensive stance, the sign clutched in her hooves as if it were a sharp and deadly lance. "I warned her not to stick this blasted sign in my face again or else I was going to—"

Spitfire's firey diatribe was interrupted by hoof slowly lifting her a piece of paper from the ground.

The sign spinner mare cowering beneath the Wonderbolt gently shook the paper with a wide, anxious grin. Even from afar, Bright Shine could see the bold, bright letters declaring "Ottoman October!"

Spitfire spun on her hooves, lifting the flimsy plastic cutout and bringing it down on the sign spinner with animalistic ferocity.

"What—did—I—tell—you—about—shoving—that—in—my—face!" Spitfire roared, spitting out each word as she struck the mare. The plastic wobbled and bounced off the sign spinner, delivering only stinging slaps to the cowering mare at her hooves.

Bright Shine would never admit the sight warmed his heart ever so slightly.

He hated sign spinners.

SNAP!

The sign folded in two, flapping uselessly before falling at Spitfire's side.

"Stay down," she breathed dangerously.

"Six months," the Wonderbolt muttered, catching her breath from the outburst despite the absence of atmosphere. "So much for progress."

"But it is progress all the same," Luna said, slowly approaching the mare, her hoof held out. She reached out, slowly removing the spinner's sign from Spitfire's grasp. It fell between them, Luna pulling the pegasus closer. "You recognize the anger, how unhealthy it is, how it plagues your sleep and your waking. That is progress," she claimed exuberantly. "I never said that it would be easy to control. There is always bound to be a slip-up or two."

"I just never expected to run up against something as difficult as this," she snorted through her flared nostrils. "Give me an advanced flight routine and I can break it down, control it, mold it to my design. But this anger," she breathed, the weight of her burden relaxing her defensive posture. "It keeps getting the best of me. It shows in the faces of my teammates, the cadets, even my friends. I don't like how it hurts them."

A wary hoof slithered for the broken sign at their hooves.

"DON'T," Spitfire spat, eyeing the spinner out the corner of her eye like a hungry hawk. "—Even think about it," she warned, bristling with rekindled fury before slowly trotting away.

Luna brushed a comforting hoof against Spitfire as the mare wandered off. "Don't worry. We're here for you," she promised. "Bright Shine and I won't stop trying until we reach the breakthrough we need. Right, Bright Shine?"

"Uh, I guess," he shrugged from a safe distance.

Luna levitated the shaken sign spinner back on her hooves, the dazed mare still reeling from the explosive barrage of Spitfire's temper.

Luna dusted her off, retrieving the floppy sign and unfolding the two halves in the spinner's hooves. "There we are. See? We're all right," she said, straightening the spinner and setting her headphones back on straight. "You're doing great. Just really swell," she praised. "Keep it up, and don't worry about her. She'll come around. Just try to tone it down around her, maybe hold the flyers back."

The spinner nodded groggily, swaying on her hooves, clutching the sign tightly.

"Doc?" Gilbert's worried squawk echoed from within the dreamscape. "Everything ok in there?"

"Just a little misunderstanding," she assured him, shaking the lunar dust from her hooves. "Standby for calibration."

Spitfire smirked at Bright Shine who was waiting safely out of her immediate reach. He rubbed absently at his aching hoof whose pain was a strange, distant throb within the dream.

"So, new guy, huh?" she remarked slyly as Luna trotted up. "Listen," Spitfire continued. "Whatever our little incident out there, I want you to know that whatever happens in there —" she pointed at the sign spinner, "— I don't mean it."

Bright Shine cocked his head, sidestepping away from the mare precautiously. "What do you mean?"

She sighed, closing her eyes, her stance relaxing. "I came here for help with anger management. And I want to change," she admitted. "But that mare — that version of me in my dreams — she still has so much rage."

Luna caught up to them, retying her ethereal mane in a ponytail.

"Well, now that little scuffle is over with, is everypony ready?"

"I was just explaining to your new hire not to take whatever happens inside personally," Spitfire claimed. "Do you think he is ready, Dr.?"

"Who, Bright Shine?" She looked to him briefly then back to Spitfire. "Well, there's no trial like a trial by fire," she chuckled dryly, pulling Bright Shine closer with her magic.

"Woaaah!" he exclaimed, digging his hooves in the lunar dust.

"Bright Shine is tough as nails," Luna said, wrapping a choking hoof around Bright Shine's neck. "If anypony can make it to the front, it's him."

"Are you sure?" Spitfire winced, looking over at the sweaty stallion struggling to squirm out of Luna's iron grasp. He was making a gurgling noise. "We've been at this for six months, and how far have you made it? The third car? Fourth?" She massaged her brow. "How much longer can we keep this up?" she sighed.

Luna lent a wing around the troubled mare. "As long as it takes," she assured Spitfire. "We're here for you — both of us. Right, Bright Shine?"

Bright Shine released a choking gasp from beneath Luna's headlock. "Tight!" he squeaked. "Too tight!"

"Woops," Luna puttered. "Don't worry, I promise he's stronger than he looks."

"Uh-huh," Spitfire nodded skeptically, unwillingly diverting her attention to the sign spinner. The bruised and shaking spinner mare was uneasily wavering the battered cutout sign above her head. "I hope you're right about that, Doc," she muttered, focusing on the sign.

It started to spin.

Bright Shine, still light-headed, watched as the spinner mare twirled the banner, fueled by Spitfire's focus. Faster it spun, picking up speed until its pull distorted reality around them. It was a blur, sucking the lunarscape into its swirling current, a hole of blackness stretching from the epicenter, consuming all.

"This is it, Bright Shine. Be ready!" Luna called out, yelling to be heard over the sign that screamed like a jet engine. Spitfire was caught in its trance, her mind entirely focused and in sync with the dream rising up to meet them.

"Ready for what?" Bright Shine called, shielding his eyes from the flying regolith as they were pulled toward the black core. His hooves cut ruts in the dust.

"For anything. You never know what a patient's subconscious will throw at you," she explained in their final seconds. "Just do one thing for me when you touch down."

"What?" he yelled above the hurricane, the dreamscape of calibration collapsing around them. "What do I need to do?"

The ground evaporated from beneath their hooves, the trio sent tumbling into the void.

"Duck!" Luna screamed to be heard as everything flew to black, and Bright Shine was yanked through the imposing darkness.

"It looks just like him, doesn't it?"

Brood stooped lower, squinting at the greasy mark on the glass with his luminous, orange eyes. He stared at the smear on Gilbert's window into the dream chamber, looking over his shoulder several times where Bright Shine hung in his chair beside Luna, both out cold.

"You knows, Gilberts," Brood murmured, studying the oily portrait. "I think this looks like an improvements," he giggled sheepishly, pointing to the distorted imprint of Bright Shine's face left in the window, painted with oils from his coat.

"I sure am glad the Doc took him in there and not us," the griffon joined in, chuckling at the mark Bright Shine's face had left where Spitfire had smashed it into the glass.

"Tells me," Brood giggled, his stubby fangs peeking from beneath his upturned lips. "What do you thinks the goober is doing right now?"

Gilbert pondered on the question, scratching at an errant feather on his beak before snapping his claw. "Screaming."

The two erupted in another fit of laughs, Gilbert bending over and clutching his sides. The wirery griffon shuffled toward the door to the Dream Core, pointing at the oily smear mark on his viewport. "Hey, do me a favor," he said, around several stray laughs. "Clean this mess up, will you, Brood. I've got to monitor the patient. Thanks, buddy," he said before snatching the door closed behind him.

Brood's laughs withered and died off, the thestral left standing alone amongst the three unconscious dreamers. "Wait. Whats?" he hissed, twisting around. "Me's? Why do I have to cleans this?"

But Gilbert was already gone.

Two leathery wings pulled at his face, Brood groaning into his supple appendages. "Whys is it always me."

The bat pony trudged down the dark, twisting corridors of the dream center, searching for the right door. Even with his acute vision, it was hard to see in the gloom. Most of the lights above had burned out long ago, and the few that remained buzzed and flickered inconsistently. "Where is that cleanings closet," he growled beneath his breath. "Always makings me do the nastys work. Like I'ms some sort of creature."

The glowering stallion stopped at another of many unmarked doors, giving the rusty knob a sharp twist.

Suddenly, something shuffled inside, letting out several throaty clicks.

Broodly quickly shut the door, shoving his weight against it while it shuttered on its hinges. It rattled and bucked, but somehow held, and the thumps and thrashes slowly subsided until they were merely scratches. Then it was over, Brood carefully slinking away, down the hall.

"Stupid opossums," he huffed.

Cracking the next door open and peering a bleary eye inside, he found mops, brooms, and pails — no ever-hungry marsupials to be seen. Getting to work, he yanked out a bottle of window cleaner. "Towels," he muttered, scanning the claustrophobic closet and spotting them way in the back on the top shelf.

Brood extended his wings, reaching with a hooked claw for them. "Oh comes on!" he smoldered, just inches away.

Stepping inside the cramped utility closed, he found a bucket, hopping atop in and wobbling back and forth. "Easies," he smirked, snatching the towels quickly with a wing.

Too quickly, in fact. The bucket collapsed beneath his hooves, bumbling thestral blurting out several curses too incoherent and too vulgar for any little filly's ears to hear here. He slammed into the floor, the door snapping shut with a loud crack.

Brood was shoved into a ball, pinned between the tight walls by his outstretched wings. He groaned, the paltry lightbulb on the ceiling swinging on its cord.

"Ohhhs..." he groaned, twisting over, his flank shoved up a wall in the tight quarters. "One days," he whispered, eyes clamped tight, "I'ms burning this place downs."

Brood peeled himself from the hard concrete, scrambling to pull himself up with his oversized wings. The claws dug at the doorjamb, the thestral twisting till he found the doorknob. "I blames all this on you, Gilbert, yous ugly chicken," he snarled, yanking the doorknob.
Pop!

"Whats the—"

Brood looked at the doorknob in his hoof, then quickly down at the bare door, his eyes stretching wide. "Uh ohs," he gulped. "Not goods."

Twisting for a better vantage among the mop buckets and musty brooms, he tried shoving the knob back on the door. His hoof was shaking harder and harder. "No...NOS!" he hissed, but it was no use. The knob wasn't going back on. He was locked inside.

"Guys! Hellos?" he whimpered, resorting to scratching wildly at the heavy door with his wings. "Help. Helps me!" he shouted, thrashing wildly, his calls and sobbing disappearing down the empty, far-reaching, dark corridors of the dream center.

His claws scraped shavings from the door, but it was hopeless. The door was too thick, and nopony would hear him this far back.

"It's okays," he tried to reassure himself, nervously wringing his hooves. "I'm sure they will comes looking for me when they notice I'm gones."

The claustrophobic atmosphere answered the thestral with the dim lightbulb above him flickering, then burning out, the utility closet plunging into a blackness that was entirely unfamiliar to the bat pony.

And if somepony were to happen to be wandering the back halls of Sweet Dreams L.L.P., then perhaps they would hear the pitiful whimpers and blubbering of a bat pony trapped in a broom closet, waiting for his coworkers to notice he was missing and come looking for him.

But let's be real here, dear reader. We both already know nopony is going to come looking for Broodly.

He cried into the darkness, his neck bent at an awkward angle between the moldering mops and dusty broom pans, wings tangled and twisted around his awkward, bulky frame.

"I does not like tight spaces."

The Bulk in Our Biceps: Part 3

Have I ever mentioned how unsettling it is to wake up in an unfamiliar place? Everypony has experienced it at some point, and the initial feeling can be quite jarring.

This author remembers several particular instances of such an experience. It was many years ago in the boisterous, light-soaked boulevards of Las Pegasus.

Las Pegasus: a beaconing lighthouse of cheap booze and debauchery that were the staple of my excursions ashore; the city was an old friend, and a dear companion. The allure of slots and scantily clad mares (and stallions) were a siren song, steering me in from dark waters and long nights at sea in a lonely bed.

And what a companion she was, always ready to empty the bits in my pockets and destroy my ailing liver with drinks. All while she surrounded me with cute mares and stallions with sparkling eyes under each foreleg. Sweet stars, those were the times.

Yet, like a cruel mistress, Las Pegasus always had this bad habit of abandoning me in a blackout stupor. Many times I awakened to unfamiliar surroundings, too many to count.

There was the time I found myself, come morning, passed out under an overpass on the I-95 to Cloudsdale, curled up next to a wild coyote.

Or the time I awoke in the fields of some blasted rock farm in the middle of nowhere, a sharp piece of granite lodged in my side.

The worst yet was waking up with the taste of stale alcohol in my mouth and smelling of old sweat on the floor of none other than Canterlot Castle. It was in the royal kitchen if I remember correctly, my head pounding like a drum, and my mind vibrating like a guitar string. Everything had been hazy, but I swear in my flashes of drunken celebration the night before, I distinctly recalled a blue mare. I think she was dancing with me at one point, but I think I glimpsed her slipping something into my drink. Next thing I remember was being beaten awake by some baker screaming something about a pie.

Now that I think about it, I could have sworn that strange, blue mare in Las Pegasus had wings and a horn.

Where am I going with this sea tale?

I don't really know.

What Bright Shine did know, was that his head was throbbing, and it was dark, and he had awakened to unfamiliar surroundings.

Dredged from the depth of unconsciousness, he had the unexpected but distinct sensation of being crushed. Everything was black, and he couldn't see, but something felt like it was jumping up and down on top of his battered body.

“Jump harder, Brood,” he heard the crackly voice of Gilbert nearby, though a bit muffled. “I can’t get the lid closed.”

“I’m tryings. Couldn’t you have found bigger trunk? How are we evens going to get rid of the body?”

"Just hurry up. My contact will be here any minute, and we need this thing in the back ally for when she gets here," the gryphon ordered. "It's easy for her to look the other way, what with her eyes. Trust me, she's great with deliveries," he spoke. "I told her to deliver this trunk to the bottom of the nearest ravine. Problem solved."

“Hold on you two, the Doc is coming out,” Pepper warned.

“Celestia on a stick, just great,” Bright Shine heard Gilbert chirp. “Maybe she can help us push the trunk outside. This guy is heavy.”

Bright Shine heard a pair of hooves trot closer, though everything was still black.

“I figured you all must have had your hooves full. I wasn’t getting any response from you all inside. Is that my trunk?”

It was Princess Luna, no doubt about it.

“I’m afraid your newest recruit bit the big one, Doc,” Gilbert said somberly. "Biceps over there really did a number on him."

“Such a shame,” she sighed.

What!? thought Bright Shine. Is this where I am? Am I dead? Did that big hunk of muscle really kill me?

He felt pain, pain all over himself. To be more specific, he felt cramped.

Luna's voice continued. “Well, we might as well get him out of here before the patient wakes up. Biceps should be coming to any minute now. Such a pity about Bright Shine, though." He heard a loud sigh. "–Wait," she stopped. "Is he in the trunk? Dammit, why are we using my trunk for the body."

"Sorry, Doc," –Gilbert this time. "It's all that we could find."

"You couldn't have found a rug or something? I liked that trunk," he heard Luna mutter. "Too late now, I suppose. Let's get this trunk into the alley before he starts stinking up the place."

Bright Shine suddenly felt himself lifted into the air. The darkness swinging back and forth. He tried to scream, to call out, but his chest was tight, and only a wheeze escaped his lips.

“Maybes we should checks if he has any belongings on him," he heard Brood's unmistakable accent. "Only so there is less evidence of course,” Brood quickly added.

“Smart thinking, Broodly,” Luna complimented. “Finally, something other than your bat nonsense. Look for anything he has on him while I see to the patient. He's coming around.”

Bright Shine felt himself lowered. There was the rattling of a latch, then light exploded across his retinas. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the brightness as he held up a hoof.

Light. Life.

"Oh, for goodness sake." Peppercorn was standing over him, her head ringed by a halo from the bright lights of the dream chamber. "Gilbert, I thought you check for a pulse."

"But I did!" the griffon exclaimed, his neck shriveling into his slender shoulders in a puff of feathers. "It's not my fault he has such a flabby neck. You couldn't find a hoofball, much less a pulse."

Bright Shine ran his hooves around the rim of the trunk he was splayed in. "Did you–" He winced, tenderly probing the goose-egg-sized lump on his head while flakes of dried blood fell from around his ear. "Did you guys try to ditch my body?" he croaked, his voice weak and hoarse. "While I was alive?"

Gilbert's eyes grew wide behind his enormous glasses. "What? Us?" He nervously scratched at his molting feathers, unable to look him in the eye. "Of course not. We were just...taking you to the hospital."

Bright Shine rolled out of the box and onto the floor in a heap. "In a box?!" he wheezed, gasping through his battered chest. "You were going to get rid of me in a box. Like the family pet!" He ran a tongue over his bruised lips, wrinkling his nose. "Am I...am I missing a tooth?"

Broodly peeked anxiously from behind the safety of Pepper. "So is he likes a ghost or something?" the bat whimpered. "Or a zombie."

"Get your grubby hooves off me, you disgusting lupine," Pepper hissed, batting away Broodly with her clipboard. "Sweet stars, I can smell you from across the building." She reached down for Bright Shine's head. "Now, let me take a look at that bump, Bright. It looks pretty nasty."

Bright Shine skittered away like a bug out a fire. He stumbled up to his hooves, his head swirling back and forth. "No. No way," he proclaimed. "There is no way you or anycreature at this fly-by-night clinic is laying a claw on me." He backed up, slipping between metal carts and putting his rear against the wall.

"Don't be silly, Bright Shine," Peppercorn tutted. "We need to get that bump looked at."

"Not. A. Chance," he demanded, shrinking back from them. "You ponies are crazy! I'd be surprised if I was the only pony you lunatics had managed to kill. I mean, where did any of you get your training?"

Broodly cocked an eye toward either of his coworkers. "You guys were actually trained? Because I just lied about takings the online course to the Doc."

Bright Shine tore at his wild mane. "Unbelievable," he moaned. "I've been here two days, and in that time, I've been: mauled, drugged, been subjected to my own nightmares, and halfway killed by a roided pegasus. That is on top of being stuffed in a trunk," he pointed out. "If it were up to me, this place would be shut down – buried in fact. I can't even imagine what sort of horrors you are going to leave with Bulk after all this is through," he scolded. "Why, I bet he's nothing more than a brain dead veg–"

He suddenly noticed that Bulk Biceps was sitting up in his chair. It looked at first as if he might have been trying to strangle Luna, the though of which actually could have warmed his heart at the moment. But that was until he saw the tiny drops of liquid streaming down his cheeks.

Tears – he was hugging her. He was – happy.

"Thank you, Doctor," he heard Bulk choking on his words. "I...I can't believe it. How can I ever repay you?"

Luna gently patted the enormous pegasus on the bicep. "Don't thank me. We merely gave you the tools and guidance to make peace with your nightmares," she told him. "But we'll just go ahead and take that insurance; maybe a check, too."

Luna's eyes lit up as she spotted Bright Shine. "By my sister's flaming hindquarters, look who gets to live another day."

"Who?" wondered Bulk, turning toward them. "Woah," he breathed, staring at Bright Shine. "What happened to him? Tiny little guy looks like he was run over by a dump truck."

The chill nighttime air of Canterlot was rendered by a loud pop as Bright Shine and Luna teleported onto the empty boulevard.

"Here we are," the Princess proclaimed in the light of the streetlamps. "Home at last. Just like I promised you. Free of charge: this time at least."

Bright Shine gurgled on the gum-littered sidewalk beside her.

"Woops," she puttered, standing the weakened stallion on his shakey hooves. "Forgot to tell you it can be a little nauseating teleporting your first time."

"I would think–" he pressed a melting icepack to the bump on his head with a wince "–that would have been a good thing to tell me before you ripped me through spacetime."

"It will dissipate soon enough," she promised. "Great job by the way on your first day." She stepped onto the stoop of the apartment, guiding the woozy stallion up the steps. "I wish I had more like you, Bright Shine. Sturdy; able to roll with the punches, both figuratively and literally."

"M-hm," was all Bright Shine could manage. He fumbled for the doorknob.

Luna tiptoed out of his way, her hoofsteps echoing down the empty streets. "So, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow? It's going to be a busy day."

Bright Shine released a heavy sight. "Look – Princess, I..."

He paused, rattling the doorknob to the crumbling, rundown apartment. "I...I didn't lock this," he grumbled. "Why won't you open?" He gave the doorknob several more halfhearted tugs.

"Maybe it has something to do with this?" Luna offered, tearing down a paper taped to the frame. She hoofed it over.

Bright Shine's bleary eyes scanned over the words in the dim streetlight. "What. What! Evicted!" he cried. "I've been evicted!"

"Ouch," Luna flinched.

"My stuff." He crammed his head to the side windows, cupping his hooves and peering inside. "They threw out all of my stuff!"

"Perhaps it was just a clerical error," Luna interjected.

Bright Shine sunk to the porch, the notice crumpled in his hooves as a low moan escaped his lips. "This can't be happening," he croaked. "Where am I going to stay?"

"Any friends or family you could possibly stay with?"

Bright Shine sunk his head into his hooves, the melted icepack rolling down the steps. "Only a creepy uncle in Vanhoover who lives out the back of his van. Snowberry was all I had, and now she's in Fillydelphia, and there's no chance of her taking me in. Not how she left me."

Luna slid beside the dejected stallion. "In that case, perhaps I could give you a place to crash. Until you get all of this straightened out. What do you say?" she said, offering her hoof.

Bright Shine lifted his head from his forelegs, his bloodshot eyes reflecting in the sepia light of the street lamps. "You would do that for me?"

She shrugged, still holding her hoof out. "Of course; my employees are like family, Bright Shine. They might be a bit odd, and sometimes they can be batty, but I've always looked out for them. So what do you say?" She waggled her hoof. "Are you still with us."

Bright Shine lifted his hoof, hesitated. "Honestly, I don't know," he admitted. "For all I know, I might be making the biggest mistake of my life right now," he said, then grabbed onto Luna.

"That's the spirit!" she giggled. "I knew I could count on you." Her horn alighted in a dazzle of blue light. "Hold on."

Instantly, space was torn around Bright Shine as he rocketed through the fabric of reality. The dingy stoop in front of his apartment vanished in a flash, his mind scrambling inside his skull as he tumbled through a light that assaulted every neuron of his brain. It was a violent symphony of every color and sound imaginable, and for a split second, he would recall hearing what the color orange sounded like.

Then, it was over just as it started. The two had arrived in someplace dark and black as absolute night. It was like being in the trunk all over again.

"Just a sec," Luna told him nearby. "Let me get the lights."

Bright Shine could only manage a whimper where he was splayed on the cold, hard ground. His mind still reeled from the teleportation spell, and his body felt weird beneath him. He wondered if all of him had survived the ordeal.

"Where is that bloody switch," Luna muttered off to his right, stumbling through the darkness. "Ah-ha, here we are," she said with a click, the lights overhead blinking to light.

"W–Why are we back here?" Bright Shine wondered as the lights of the dream chamber crackled to life. "I thought we were going to Canterlot Castle."

"The castle?" Luna chuckled, trotting across the dream chamber. "Why would we be going to the castle? Celestia would have my flank if I brought somepony home after what happened last time. Found him sobering up come morning in the kitchen, poor fellow. I was only trying to help him have a little fun. Rumor has it he violated one of the pies. Stars, I miss Las Pegasus."

Luna stooped down, pulling on a ring set into the scuffed floor. The hatch opened with an ominous creak. "You're more than welcome to stay here, though."

Bright Shine cocked his sore head, wondering when the practical joke would be revealed. "Here? Seriously?"

"Go on," she nodded at the ladder leading down the dark hatch. "I had it put in a few years back. Just don't mention it to the zoning board or they'll fine us even further into bankruptcy."

Bright Shine warily descended into the hatch, his hooves clutching the cold rungs set into the concrete walls. He reached the bottom, a solitary, dim lightbulb hanging from a cord barely able to penetrate the gloom.

"Look who's back," Gilbert chirped from the top of a bunkbed pushed in the corner. "Gosh, that bump on the old melon sure looks bad," he whistled.

"What in Tartarus–" Bright Shine muttered.

Luna had reached the last rung behind him. "Sorry to burst in here like this at this hour, Gilbert," she apologized. "But Bright Shine seems to be having a tiny little housing issue. I figured you wouldn't mind if he crashed in the employee quarters."

"Of course not," the half-bird replied, scrambling down the creaky bed frame. "Mi casa es su casa." He threw a foreleg around Bright Shine. "You're going to love it. The diggs here are pretty sweet."

Bright Shine looked around the concrete box, or what he could see in the dim light. Besides the bunk bed with sagging mattresses, the only other piece of furniture was a sink basin and a few mismatched office chairs situated around a varnish-stripped table. The walls dripped with condensation, the air humid with the air conditioning that rattled in the dark ceiling. It made his skin crawl.

And something was hiding in the corner. Was that a drum set? It looked like it had been scavenged from the side of the road.

"Well, I'd better let you all get some sleep," Luna yawned. "Busy day tomorrow. I want you up bright and early, Bright Shine," she called back as she disappeared through the hatch. "There is so much more for you to learn."

With a bang, the hatch slammed shut, the lights of the dream chamber above them gone. The room suddenly seemed so much darker with its meager lightbulb.

Bright Shine slowly turned back to the griffon. His beak was stretched in a wide grin, his glasses barely hanging to the tip.

"Sooo," Bright Shine cleared his throat. "You live here?"

"Yeah, it's pretty sweet." Gilbert took a fluttering hop back to the top bunk. "This is going to be so awesome to have a roommate." He gave a happy chirp, bouncing on the bed, the frame releasing a tormented squeal. "I've got the top bunk, but you can have the bottom one. We can stay up late and play games and tell stories, like how we thought you were dead and we nearly dumped your body – sorry by the way – and we can watch scary movies, just as long as we don't wake up Broodly, he hates it when I wake him up."

"Broodly?" Bright Shine cocked an eyebrow.

Gilbert pointed a claw to the darkness overhead. "Oh yeah, he can be a real crab if you wake him up. He gets all–" Gilbert scrunched his face into a fearsome, open-beaked hiss.

Bright Shine scanned the dark ceiling, seeing no hint of the bat pony. But when he lended an ear and listened, he heard it: a low and fitful murmur of some creature. He was up there, somewhere, hanging from whatever pipe or crack he could latch onto. Bright Shine slowly became aware of the rush of blood through his veins, and he instinctively covered his jugular area.

"You don't have to worry about that," Gilbert chuckled. "He'll only suck on your neck if he likes you."

"Thank you, Gilbert. That doesn't make me feel any better."

With heavy eyelids and a sore head, Bright Shine settled on the bottom bunk. It creaked in reply.

And as he pulled the slightly musty covers tight around him, his mind wandered in the first provocations of sleep to the thought of Bulk Biceps. He had been hugging Luna, thanking her. He had seemed so...vulnurable. Could her treatment have actually helped him.

Above him, Gilbert reached up and clicked the light off, plunging the room into darkness. Somewhere overhead, the AC rattled and Broodly's sleepful, undistinguishable mutters continued.

The bunkbed creaked. "Hey. Bright Shine? Are you still awake?" Gilbert whispered.

The air released through Bright Shine's nostrils. "What?"

"I was just thinking," the griffon pondered aloud. "Since we're now living together – I mean, we share the bunk bed – doesn't that make us, like, brothers?"

Bright Shine rolled over, covering his aching head with the lumpy pillow. "Go to bed, Gilbert," he groaned. "Please, it's been a long day."

"Because I think it would be cool if we were, like, brothers. I mean, we have Broodly, but he says he would rather sit on a spear than be related to me. I guess what I'm trying to say, Bright Shine, is that if we are brothers," Gilbert whispered, his voice carrying around the basement. "I don't want you to touch my drum set."