What if I'm not the hero everyone thinks I am?

Sleep is a tricky thing, especially when you're in the body of a demigod about to face a scary lion. As I tried to rest on my bed of leaves, my mind decided to take me on a wild dream journey.

In my dream, I was back at my university, but everything was mixed up. I was dressed like Hercules, with a lion skin and a big club, standing in front of my class. 

I was supposed to look good but it really reminded me of the Halloween costumes when I saw myself in Hercule's costumes!

As if that was not enough even the students weren't normal - there were creatures from Greek myths sitting there too!

"Today's lecture," I heard myself saying, "will be on the practical applications of heroic strength in academic settings."

A centaur was taking notes, and poor Medusa kept turning her notebook to stone by accident. 

"Now, who can tell me the proper technique for slaying the Nemean Lion?" I asked, feeling oddly calm despite the absurdity of the situation.

A hand shot up. It belonged to Iolaus, who was somehow both sitting in the student section and standing next to me at the podium.

"Ooh, ooh, I know this one!" he exclaimed. "You use your godly strength to... write a strongly worded letter to the lion, kindly asking it to stop eating people?"

I was about to respond when the dream shifted. 

I was suddenly, face-to-face with the Nemean Lion, but it wasn't scary at all. It was wearing big glasses and reading a book about Greek myths. It even asked me for help understanding the difference between types of heroes!

"Excuse me," the lion said in a surprisingly posh accent, "but I'm having trouble with the chapter on heroic archetypes. Would you mind explaining the difference between a tragic hero and a comic sidekick?"

But before I could answer the dream shifted again, and I was on Mount Olympus. 

The gods were chatting like regular people at work. Zeus looked like my boss from the university, talking about how Hercules - me, I guess, had started a book club. 

Hera didn't seem impressed, mentioning how Hercules once made too many vases during his pottery phase.

Then, I woke up! 

Feeling utterly confused at the sheer absurdity of the dream…

'The fuck was that?!'

 The sky was getting lighter, and Iolaus was already awake, tending to our campfire. 

He looked over at me, a knowing smile on his face. 

"Rough night? You were muttering something about 'peer-reviewed smiting' in your sleep."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Just some... vivid dreams. Nothing to worry about."

"Ah, dreams," Iolaus nodded sagely. "Often the gods speak to us through our dreams. Did you receive any divine wisdom about the task ahead?"

I thought about my bizarre dream sequence. 

"Unless the secret to defeating the Nemean Lion involves starting a mythological book club, I'm afraid not."

Iolaus laughed, though I could see confusion in his eyes. "Your humor grows stranger by the day, Hercules. But come, let's break our fast. We have a long day ahead of us."

As we ate a simple meal of bread and dried fruit, I found myself lost in thought. The absurdity of my dreams had given way to very real concerns about the day ahead.

"Iolaus," I began hesitantly, "what if... what if I'm not the hero everyone thinks I am? What if I'm not cut out for these labors?"

Iolaus looked at me, surprise evident on his face. 

"Where is this coming from, my friend? You're Hercules! Son of Zeus, strongest of all mortals. If anyone is cut out for these labors, it's you."

I sighed, poking at the embers of our fire with a stick. "I know, I know. It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm playing a part. Like the real Hercules is somewhere else, and I'm just... filling in."

Iolaus was silent for a moment, then he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me, Hercules. Doubts are normal, even for heroes. But remember this - you're not alone. Whatever challenges we face, we face them together."

His faith in me was touching, and a bit overwhelming. I hoped I could live up to it.

Nothing more was said and nothing more was needed.

As we packed up our camp and prepared to set out for another day of travel, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Maybe I wasn't the real Hercules, but I had knowledge the real Hercules didn't. And I had Iolaus by my side.

"You're right," I said, squaring Hercules' broad shoulders. 

"Together, we can face anything. Even a lion with impenetrable fur and a taste for human flesh."

Iolaus grinned, clapping me on the back. "That's the Hercules I know! Though your way with words has certainly improved. Are you reading scrolls in your spare time?"

I couldn't help but smile at his words. "Let's just say I've been doing some... extracurricular studying."

Little did Iolaus know just how extracurricular my studies had been. But as we journeyed onward towards Nemea and the fearsome lion that awaited us, I realized that my unusual blend of academic knowledge and Herculean strength might just be the key to succeeding in this mythic world.

After all, how many lion-slaying heroes could quote Aristotle while wrestling a beast?

This was going to be an interesting labor indeed.

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