Salvation | Rebirth

Artful was walking alongside an odd road that looked like some kind of smooth sort of stone or rock, vaguely familiar, the name of it at the tip of his tongue. On that road, there were straight white markings that he didn’t know the meaning of. He had once read that walking on stone for long was not good for hooves, so he wondered who and why made this road in the first place. Maybe they would place rails on top of it later? Though, usually they used a different material for that, so that didn’t make much sense. To the side of this road, he could also spot tall posts, likely lamp posts. They came on, basking the road in electric white light as the sun uncharacteristically slowly set, plunging the surrounding world into twilight. Somewhere in front of him, far to the horizon, he could spot buildings taller than he had ever seen, even taller than what modern huge cities called skyscrapers.

“Hey, what are you doing in my dream?”

Artful turned his head and saw Lina standing there not that far away from him, looking at him in puzzlement. Then a realization dawned on him - he was, in fact, dreaming. Now that he paid attention, he could see that everything around him was not quite real, an impression of a feeling instead of how it would be in reality. Now that he knew, it was impossible for him to see the surroundings as anything but a part of a dream.

“Uuuh, I don’t know?” he answered. But then, was he even talking to Lina in the first place? It was true that she did look real, as real as she was in reality, but, well, it was a dream, so who was he to know? Dreams weren't a thing he studied or cared all that much about to study, so he only knew that there was some sort of a metaphysical place called Dreamscape that, apparently, housed all the dreams, and someone with proper knowledge and skills could travel from one dream to another. Princess Luna was known to do that, doing her best to soothe distressed ponies who experienced nightmares. His own nightmares were rare enough and light enough that they didn't seem to attract her attention.

The point was, he dreamed dreams, he didn't know how they worked.

“...I think it’s not even my dream,” Lina said slowly as she looked around, taking in the odd surroundings, “Is it your dream?”

“Well, I’m dreaming, so... maybe?” he said, voice uncertain, “I don’t really recognize anything.”

Of course, he sometimes dreamed of nonsense, but it still had familiar elements, people and places, but now, what surrounded him was giving him the creeps, and he wasn't quite sure why. There was this vague sense of familiarity, there was also an odd consistency to the place, but everything looked off in a way that he couldn't describe. His mind was not screaming at him about the wrongness of it all, but it was definitely nagging at him, prodding, making him alert and wary.

He could wake up and avoid dealing with it, but he was interested in what was going on.

“I guess we can walk and see,” Lina shrugged, “It’s kinda nice to have someone else in my dream. If you’re real, that is.”

“I am real. What if you are not real?” Artful said, teasing.

“You know what? That’s a damn fair point,” Lina agreed with a serious nod betrayed by her smile.

For a while, they walked alongside the odd road, and nothing of importance seemed to happen. The air was still, the trees standing by the side of the road were unmoving as if they were carved from stone. However, it was far from silent. In the distance, there was a distant sort of rush mixed with a rumble, though it couldn’t be felt through the ground. It was neither a messy hum of a crowd nor the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks, as much as it subtly resembled the latter.

Almost unnoticeably, the surroundings shifted as if Artful and Lina weren’t going along a road to a city but along a forest path deeper into the wilderness. Lamp posts shifted to trees, the odd stone faded into ground, and the towering buildings ahead were hidden by the emerging thick canopy. They were surrounded by trees now, but the odd constant noise was still present, if quieter. Artful and Lina could now both hear the sound of their hoofsteps as the grass rustled under them.

While Artful knew it wasn’t real, it was still surprisingly detailed for a dream. Or perhaps it was a regular kind of detail? He did his best to memorize what he was seeing as he wondered how he would be able to put it on canvas. He still couldn’t quite figure out exactly how to replicate what he was pseudo-seeing. It was as if things had defined lines and rigid borders but also not. It all had a... resemblance, perhaps, to what one could see in the peripheral vision.

Now that Artful paid greater attention, he could see how obviously different things were. He had studied plants in order to be able to paint them accurately, and even through the vague pseudo-senses of the dream, he could see that everything around them was familiar at a glance but entirely different on closer inspection, even if he couldn’t exactly say what wasn’t right. Perhaps the grass was a bit wider, the moss on one of the trees was not the correct shade, and the trees themselves only had a passing resemblance to real trees. It was uncanny and made him wary. If it was not Lina’s dream and also wasn’t his own, then whose was it, and why was it like that? Most importantly, why were the two of them there?

"Something is wrong," Artful said, his voice but a whisper.

"No shit," Lina murmured back, "I hope nothing, like, jumps out of a bush to carve us with a knife or something."

Silently, Artful decided that he could almost prefer that. At least something obviously scary and disturbing would be, well, obvious. Relatively easy to deal with, at least. What they were surrounded by? It was on a different end of the creepy scale.

The trees parted in front of them, seemingly moving out of the way, revealing a lake. The water was still, not a single ripple, its surface like a mirror, reflecting the night sky above and yet also... more, things that were not there. In the depths of that reflection, there was something familiar, something that reminded him of-

“You should not be here.”

It was Wild’s unmistakable voice, even though it sounded completely different. Wild then seemed to materialize in front of Artful. When Artful saw him, his heart skipped a beat. Wild looked thinner, as if he had struggled to feed himself for a long while. There was deep darkness around his sunken silver eyes, and Artful could swear there were streaks of red inside, and not at all like bloodshot eyes, but inside of the iris. His horn was glowing, and in his magical grasp was some odd tool of steel with a rubber handle as if it was supposed to be gripped by a real hand or claw.

“So, it’s your dream?” Lina asked.

Wild blinked, and everything seemed to shift and blur at the edges, including himself. The ripple effect was vaguely nauseating, but it passed quickly enough. Then Wild came back into focus.

“I am... dreaming?” he asked, his voice becoming once more what Artful knew, and it was as if a wave of fresh air washed over them all.

Wild looked down at what he was holding, his face paled, and then it disappeared into nothingness, gone as if it was never there. Artful was curious, but he didn’t ask - he had a bad feeling about it, deep inside him, and he knew the best course of action was to not mention it again. He looked back up at Wild and was relieved to see his usual decently muscular and healthy appearance, and the red was gone from his eyes. It was as if he became real again, returning from wherever his dreaming mind ventured.

“Well duh,” Lina said, “But I guess you’ve not learned to figure that out. I do it all the time. Like, it had been so damn boring to just lie in my wheelbed, you know? So, I slept a lot, and I imagined stuff happening. In dreams, I don’t have limits, so yeah.”

“Oh, lucid dreaming?” Artful asked, “I’ve never been able to do that before... I think. Maybe only a couple times.”

“Oh yeah, you gotta practice that,” Lina nodded, “So, Wild, why are we in your dream?”

Wild looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. The world around them seemed to shiver even as it stood absolutely still and silent.

“Maybe it is because... of my talent,” he said, “I don’t know. I... you should go.”

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, Artful was awake. The difference in senses was astounding, and he immediately knew that it was indeed reality and not just a mere shift in a dream. He knew he was having a sleepover with Wild and his friends, and they were all in a cabin in the woods inside the Royal Orphanage. The inside of the cabin was now dark and pleasantly warm, the fire slowly burning inside the fireplace, though not as bright as before, basking the surroundings in dancing orange light. He could hear the smooth and calm breaths of others surround them. Lina grumbled something, turned on the other side, and seemingly went right back to sleep. Artful... he didn’t know whether he could go to sleep again right away. Something was tugging at him.

He felt Wild slip away from the pony pile, and then he softly walked over to the exit and went outside, letting in a rush of cool, chilly nighttime air before the door near-silently closed behind him. Artful blinked, chasing away the last dregs of sleep from his mind, then rose up to follow.

The moon was out, high in the sky, full and bright, its pale light providing enough visibility of surroundings for Artful not to stumble as he walked. He shivered, the contrast of the chilly night air compared to the warmth inside the cabin making it unpleasant to be outside, or at least it would be so until he warmed up a bit from activity and got used to the cold. Still, he longed for the warmth of the pony pile, but he could not simply turn around and return, not yet.

Wild was not far from the cabin, sitting down on half a log cut lengthwise, which made it a low sort of bench. His ears twitched as Artful approached, then his head turned. Artful’s breath was taken away when he saw Wild’s eyes: silver and glowing, resembling a pair of moons. This was no trick of the light, not a reflection of the moon, but his own, real glow. Artful wondered whether it had always been there and he simply didn’t notice it until right this moment.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Artful asked gently.

For a long moment, Wild simply looked at him, but then he gave a small, hesitant nod. Artful made his way over to him and sat down at his side, leaning towards him with a silent offer of warmth and mental support. Wild leaned into him, letting out a quiet sigh, some of the tension in his body disappearing. For a long while, neither of them did anything but sit together, sharing the warmth. Wild gazed at the moon, sitting still and silent, almost unblinking. Gentle wind carried fallen leaves, rustling them quietly in the night, sending a chill through the two of them.

“It was a bad dream,” Wild spoke first, “I am sorry you were... pulled into it.”

“It was an accident, and it wasn’t that bad,” Artful assured him. As creepy as that dream was, Artful had seen worse, “It was just... a bit weird, is all. Just because, you know, it wasn't mine.”

“It could have been worse,” Wild said, then seemed to shrink on himself, “It was... a bad idea, to sleepover.”

“Why?”

“If I can pull others into my dreams, I...” he let out a shaky sigh, “I do not want anyone to, to see... what I sometimes see. And this dream... came out of nothing. Nowhere. I did not expect it. I... I do not want to have those dreams.”

“I can probably learn not to, um, get pulled into your dreams,” Artful suggested.

“...Maybe. But making everyone do it? Just for me? No,” Wild shook his head, “It is... unfair to them. I can dream of things... much worse. To, to make others see them, it would be... bad.”

Artful could not exactly disagree, knowing he would likely think the same in Wild’s place. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a solution to give... except one. Which was not really a solution but advice, but still, it was better than nothing at all.

“Maybe Princess Luna can help you,” he suggested, “She knows how dreams work better than anyone else.”

“...I will talk to her,” Wild nodded, “Princess Luna... she has done much for me, since I came here, to the orphanage,” he confessed, “She... is probably the first person to care about me. She knows... more about me, than anyone. And she... helps me. She has been... very helpful.”

Wild sniffed, and Artful turned his head. The glow of his eyes was there, but now they seemed to be more reflective, and... those were tears. Artful extended one of his wings and hugged Wild close.

Artful did not miss the implications of Wild's words, and he couldn't help but reflect on his own situation when he was younger. His own biological progenitors did not care about him, and it was almost enough to convince him that no one cared about him at all. In his worst moments, he even thought it true. And yet, someone who could help reached out, and now he was living a life he enjoyed. Wild, without a doubt, could get there too, as long a road as it was.

Artful sometimes, though rarely now, dreamed of being back in a place he hated, in a body not his own. It was an experience a lot of ponies simply could never have, and the feeling of being physically wrong was something Artful wouldn't wish on anyone. If Wild's nightmares caused him to feel anywhere near the way Artful felt then, it was no surprise Wild did not want others to see them.

“I hate this,” Wild said, his voice strained, “I want to be... normal. I do not want to have dumb problems,” he blinked rapidly, then took a deep, if shaky, breath, “I am... sorry for, for making it... your burden.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Artful assured him, “We may not be married-” at least yet “-but I will be with you through happiness and sorrow.”

It was a sort of vow one gave when a marriage happened, but Artful felt ready to give it now. Or, at the very least, mostly ready. He wasn't completely sure that he was acting one hundred percent rationally, for he too had been rather lonely, and Wild was his first real relationship, and he fully intended to make it last. He could only hope that it wouldn't be to the detriment of himself or Wild.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Wild asked, almost a whisper, his eyes avoiding Artful's, an emotion like shame rising up from him.

“It’s not about deserving,” Artful said, knowing where Wild was coming from, considering that he himself had been thinking far too much about what was and wasn’t deserving once upon a time. He knew where it could lead, and he couldn't just stand aside and see it happen to someone he loved, “Affection, l-love, it’s not something... to earn. I give it all to you freely.”

Wild nuzzled Artful affectionately, and he accepted it. Then Wild retreated slightly, now looking at Artful, searching his eyes for... something.

“You have to know - to learn - how not to get into my dreams,” Wild said, his voice now stronger, “They can get... bad. Very bad. They... rarely do, now, but rarely is not never. I would... I would hate it if you saw them.”

Artful did not deny or question Wild’s insistence on this, trusting him to know the true severity of the nightmares that he dreamed of sometimes. There was doubt, of course there was doubt, but he was not going to bring it up. He had once heard 'there's no way it can be that bad', and he had learned to greatly dislike that phrase. It was not up to him to judge how bad something a different person experienced was, certainly not with the gravity that Wild spoke about it with.

“Alright,” Artful said, “I will learn how not to get pulled into your dreams as soon as I can.”

Wild gave a nod, murmured a 'thank you', and then the two settled down and sat in silence for a time. Artful offered physical and emotional support, lightly nuzzling Wild. Wild returned the affection, breathing softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile, as weak as it was at the moment. It took some time before Wild gathered himself, gently nudged Artful up, and stood up. The two finally returned to the cabin, making sure to walk softly as not to wake the others.

Everyone was still asleep, and the two carefully got back into the pony pile. They laid down together, and Wild allowed himself to be the little spoon. Soon enough, both of them were asleep, and no dreams disturbed them until the morning.