19 Chapter 0.5: Another Night in Neverland (7)

Gone was the school, and with it, the world painted in red. Only the void, an endless dark one, persisted.

But Lloyd was not standing.

He was falling, drowning, deeper and deeper until there was no place to call the depths. Asleep within the dream of sleep, he could only but forget, forget everything, As he sunk deeper, he could no longer differentiate the dream from reality, he was forgetting who he was, his family, his ideals, the people he knew, and the world he lived in. It was as if this dream solely existed to wipe out and rewrite everything that Lloyd Ashford stood for, what made him… him.

Scary… all of it was scary. Lloyd was not conscious, yet he could still feel it: the fear. It was more terrifying than the dark specter he encountered before. The fear of losing one's self was unimaginable.

A voice, not his own, but rather a croaky one, echoed in the void. It mimicked that of ones you would possibly hear out of a wise old man, or a senile one, that would spout nonsense of a war that ended before his time, at the porch of some run-down tavern.

But why would it be his fear? He questioned himself.

The voice tried to etch its words into his own mind, but he was resisting. He would not let himself be lost in a dream that should have been his own.

Yes… it was his dream.

— Wake up…

He screamed at the top of his lungs, only within his thoughts, not to wake himself up from the dream, but to wake within the dream, to realize the potential of imagination that lied within the deepest stage.

<It's futile, child. There is nowhere to go.>

Deep from within, that same throaty voice echoed again. In a way, it was keeping Lloyd's consciousness from completely slipping, because even in the depths, he was still somewhat aware.

— Who… are you?

<...>

The voice did not answer.

And Lloyd still fell deeper, but he wouldn't falter. With all his might, he tried to muster all his strength to keep his consciousness. Everyone was gone, and only he managed to reach out to the voice that dictated this world. This was something only he could do, and he was not going to let it go to waste.

His thoughts had finally reached out to the beyond. It echoed so deeply the other voice could not ignore it any longer.

Lloyd could hear the voice, loud and clear, but there was a sorrowful tone to it. The words made him out to be someone with a grand position, but the tone at which they were told did not go well with it.

<... You seem… sad…>

An unexpected response.

The voice fell quiet.

There was only the sound of Lloyd's words still prolonging in this void like a constant thought that wouldn't leave one's mind. Lloyd knew very well that whoever was behind this voice, he was the one behind his slumber, behind the endless void.

<Indeed, I am sad… saddened by this world, this world that has given up on all its dreams. It longs for a good night's sleep..>

— Is that why you put us all to sleep?

Somehow, this time, Lloyd was unable to get the words to reach the other voice. It was only kept within his thoughts.

Those words… it angered Lloyd. Being someone who held onto his beliefs and ideals with a tight grip up high, who followed his dreams to the end (and might have trudged on the way), he could not take these words lightly.

By those words, Lloyd preferred to be "ignorant" to the truth. In his subconscious, he was afraid of learning something that would weaken his resolve. But no matter how hard the truth was, it shouldn't shatter the resolve of someone who wants to save all.

That was when the will of the dreamer let go of Lloyd's captivity. Instead of slipping away, his consciousness was pulled back into the higher part of the dream, not submitting to the depths left a great emotion of relief on Lloyd's part.

His endless, sleepless, fall finally came to an end.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was no longer falling into the void. For starters, he was standing on his two feet with all his might and awareness.

The world before him was not of darkness. It was vast and wide from all directions (there was no end to its walls) to the above that should have been the sky. But there was no sky, and there was no darkness either, just a giant ceiling that mimicked that of the ones in castles. From the ceiling, hung chains of all kinds, extending throughout the entire place, if what was before him could be called the "entire" place. Looking back down, the areas before him were completely bizarre and chaotic. There were rooms… no, cells, at each and every corner, at every glance he took.

— What in the world?

They were huge cells, surrounded by bars, that would gladly accommodate something as giant as a dragon, but what it contained was nothing short of astounding. It was all filled with humans, not one human in each cell, there were crowds of humans collectively together at each cell. The bars were ten times, perhaps a hundred times, larger than what they were. They were ants trapped in a dog's cage. There was more than enough space between each bar to squeeze in twenty people together to the outside.

This all perfectly replicated a giant dungeon, a prison.

— Why are they not getting out?

Even though this was a mere dream, Lloyd could not shake the thought that all of these people were trapped while the opportunity of escape was right before them.

"You see… this is the truth befitting of humanity."

The previous voice echoed once more.

Lloyd turned his head to see the source of it all. It was all just an old man, looking as ragged as ever. His white beard was quite long to the extent that it would rival that of an old fairy tale wizard. But he was far from the optimistic elder that was Saint Nicholas. Just looking at him would send a chill down one's spine. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for eternity — his words earlier of not getting sleep weren't just a measly metaphor. The only other thing that stood out of his appearance was the blue robe he donned, it was blue at first glance, but somehow, it did not retain a constant color.

Putting two and two together, it was easy to determine the identity of the personified entity that stood before Lloyd. This wasn't a being that brought people dreams, rather nightmares. If Lloyd did not know any better, he would have mistaken this for the Boogeyman.

— So this is the Sandman…

"This world, led by humanity, is heading towards ruin." The old man, the Sandman began speaking out his words, "I am simply offering redemption for them, to save them from themselves. Humanity has come so far that they no longer grasp right and wrong. But under my guidance, in my eternal dreams, they will be corrected and they will achieve their desires."

"Who are you to dictate what is right?"

"I am the Arbiter of all Dreams. I know the deepest desires of everyone in this world, even the poor creatures that had no power over their own. I, alone, could stray them afar from the path in their best interest."

The people in those cells, real people that were probably sound asleep in the real world, were all in a state of depletion. All of them wandered aimlessly within their cells in unison, staring far into the abyss with no purpose and no life in their eyes, only nothing. Yet they wore hollow smiles on their faces as if they were drugged with the pill of happiness.

— This is in their best interest?

These were people deprived of the only feeling that made them alive, trapped in cages forever to chase after a desire they will never reach. This was no different than someone who was in a brain-dead state. Their minds were not theirs anymore, their bodies were deprived of sentiment.

Lloyd couldn't believe all of it. It was like one big sick joke to him. But what was more unbelievable was that it was the Sandman's doing.

The Sandman has always been a glimmer of light to the people, to the children. He brought forth the brightest dream and chased away the darkness of nightmares. Like the fairy he was believed to be, he would use his magic dust to wash away any troubles.

But this man…

This being that was before Lloyd right now, he was nothing of the sort. He did not shine with gold gleam or sparkles. He did not emanate a feeling of hope. He was nothing but the opposite of everything that made the Sandman… a shell of who he once was.

"You think we're puppets? And you're the puppetmaster?" Lloyd was furious.

"Those are indeed our roles, human. It is written in the oldest book of all."

"No, that's wrong! We were not made puppets. We were given the freedom of will." He held his hand against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart grow louder. "That's what differentiates us from any other being. People are free to choose what they want after realizing their mistakes. They are free to cower away or face reality head-on. That's the very thing that reality is built upon."

He closed his eyes, affirming his belief in his mind.

"If that is what you call hypocrisy, then so be it."

"I suppose that, in your mind at least, you are correct. You are free to make your own decisions. But there is a very good reason I don't trust you with that freedom!" The Sandman gave the command.

Lloyd was immediately engulfed by a storm of dust whirling towards him. The Sandman disappeared from his sights and the prison was long gone. His movement ceased almost entirely as if that storm solely existed to put him down to his sleep.

But he wouldn't bow down so easily.

In this storm, even as he pushed against it, Lloyd could see them all… the girl who wished for nothing but genuine attention and recognition from others, the boy who struggled with limits of imagination in the face of realism, the girl who invalidated her own emotions no matter how hard she was gleaming with them, the girl who always searched for a place of her own… They were all struggling on their own, in their own dreams, trying to make sense of where they were. Lloyd had always admired each one of them. He never believed himself to be on their level, yet it was now, of all times, that they all relied on him to make the definite move. They could not see him, and he could not talk to them, but, somehow, they all knew… they all knew what to do.

— Just hang on a little longer, guys.

And finally, the "boy wonder," the absolute peak of this world, was there. He stood at the far end of the storm, looking at Lloyd with his usual smile. He was the goal, the finish line, that Lloyd needed to surpass. But no matter how far he ran, he could never reach the goal. With each step, that goal grew further.

However, right now, at this moment, it felt closer than ever.

"(Can you really push beyond? Beyond me?)" The voice of the boy spoke.

— No, not in a million years…

"(To limitless potential…)"

— I don't have to push beyond to reach the limitless depths. I don't need to surpass you. But if I can just catch a glimmer of that light you hold, then that is enough for me.

"Watch me!"

Lloyd finally blurted out the words he was ever so desperate for. He was certain he was able to grasp something, and now he was going to channel it all. He was going to give it his all, even if his all was but a mere weak part of greatness he could never reach. With that, he wanted to prove, to prove to everyone, to the Sandman, to Shogo, that he could improve, that he won't idly sit by without even trying.

Being slothful was no longer his desire.

All of a sudden, the gust of dust was washed away. Lloyd was out of the wind of dilemma and back in that damned prison, facing the Sandman in all his misery.

"Realtu Umbra…" He whispered to himself.

Following those two words, he drew out his pen with much determination and resolve in his eyes, and began writing.

This was a chant unlike any other.

— Thou is the dream and the dream is me.

— The construct is my imagination, and I am its author.

— Vanquish that which holds the shackles of notion.

— For I, who have dreamed of terrifying freedom, will rise up.

— I call upon the most ancient dream from the pale moon.

— Give thine blessing and rid my sloth.

— That is the truth of Limitless Requiem.

In an instant, another gust of wind, almost like a tornado, formed around Lloyd, but this was one not pushing against him. It was one he conjured up with all his might. Yes, it was something within his control.

For now, this dream belonged to the Sandman no longer.

This was Lloyd's dream.

His domain.

His page.

He was going to wipe out the image of the Sandman completely.

Not seconds after, the gust of wind overwhelmed the entire place. The Sandman watched it all devour his palace, his most treasured domain, his dream. It was then that he felt that wind before him, like a storm that was approaching. And so the inevitable happened, the wind engulfed him completely. However, instead of flying off or dying as he had expected, he was greeted with a void, a void not his own.

The only thing of resemblance in this place was the figure of Lloyd still standing in the distance, with the firm resolve he built.

The Sandman, being a man who understood the tactics of writers.

"A Reality Shift? In my dream?!"

It seemed that the Sandman, much like the Boogeyman, understood the system of Neverland and its unique form of magic.

But, unlike his claim, this was not a Reality Shift, nothing that great. It was a much more reduced form of the shift, preserved only within the dreams of dreams. The sheer amount of imagination it opened up for the user was almost laughable to believe: limitless.

"Didn't think trapping the arbiter of dreams in a dream of my own would be this easy! It's time for you to have a little taste of my world." Lloyd pointed his pen at the Sandman, "Can you keep up with me?"

"You little—" The Sandman felt threatened, greatly threatened.

Slothful as he may be, he, too, had an innate desire to give in to his wrath, especially when faced with mockery and humiliation. He was just like the Boogeyman in that regard, made from the same stitch. This was the nature of the Strange Men after all.

Despite his ragged appearance and old age, he charged directly at Lloyd with the intention to kill. But instead of facing Lloyd at the end, an open door emerged out of the abyss, quickly blocking the path to Lloyd.

And down the rabbit hole, the Sandman went.

With not enough time to react, the Sandman went right through the door, disappearing entirely from Lloyd's sight.

What presented itself before him was bizarre. He wasn't pulled into another void, but rather to a bizarre, and quite ominous, hallway.

Everything was identical to one another, one couldn't tell the start from the end. The walls were painted in plain white, they had the kind of palettes that gave a claustrophobic feeling of being trapped within a padded cell. There were an endless amount of doors at each side (that led to who knows what) coated in a clear brown shade, somehow blending in perfectly with the rest of the place. As for the carpets, they stood out greatly, covered in a collection of rhombus shapes spreading throughout the entire place, split into three different color palettes that made it almost hypnotizing to look at.

Just being there already had the Sandman's alarms set off. Instead of cautiously studying the place, he quickly made a run for it before anything else might happen.

Thankfully, the hallways weren't as endless he thought they would be. The Sandman made it out of that maze into what looked like a lobby. He started contemplating this place. It very much looked like some sort of a hotel — and an old one at that. But there was another thought on his mind, and that was the whereabouts of the very boy that put him into this place. The Sandman was the arbiter of all dreams, the epitome of the deepest sloth, yet he couldn't change the scenery. He had no control over the place he was trapped within.

Running further ahead, he was met with bifurcated stairs that led downstairs on his left. However, he found himself standing in front of the two red elevators that were to his front. They stuck out of the plain white wall like a sore thumb. The Sandman could feel nothing but trouble emanating from them, yet he felt the desire to approach them even further.

Before he could heed his desires, he was met with red liquid leaking out of the elevator, descending down on him. It was blood, pure red blood. Like an aquarium tank breaking out, the waterfall of blood quickly rushed against the Sandman, engulfing him within its sea.

He could not comprehend what had just transpired. How could such a thing spawn from the mind of a measly human boy? The Sandman wondered.

Washing up in front of the stairs, the Sandman mustered up all his deteriorating strength and stood up.

Down at the other end of the stairs was Lloyd, standing with a smile on his face.

"Enjoying the ride?" He asked.

The Sandman, soaked in red, descended down the stairs. "You, child, think that a few tricks you pull out of your sleeve can put me down? There's only a limit to what—"

"It's not over yet!" Lloyd interrupted.

The Sandman's eyes widened. But he wasn't going to wait for the ignorant child to perform another trick. He ran down the stairs to catch him and stop him, but…

The world flipped.

Just like that, the world around them flipped upside down with ease. The Sandman, with Lloyd in front of him, flew in the air with the ground he was standing on a few seconds ago being above his head. They did not land on the ceiling, however. Both of them floated in the air as if there was a gravitational push on each end, sustaining them in the middle. Yet the world around revolved like a vortex. It was enough to induce nausea in the average person.

Even in the air, the Sandman tried to regain his balance and reach for Lloyd, but each time he was close to doing so, he would get pushed away further.

"A host's job is to ensure the fulfillment of the experience, isn't that correct?"

"Officious brat—"

— Oh no, you don't!

As the world circled once again, a space gap emanated behind the Sandman. Lloyd had the higher ground, leaving the old man to fall into the gap, transporting him yet another figment of a dream within a dream.

This time, the Sandman was trapped within a storm of snow. There wasn't anything distinctive nearby, just snow, and only snow. The Sandman could not move any of his muscles, for he was buried deep within the snow itself. He could not pull himself out of there, only watch the above.

He did not feel cold, only fear; fear of a greater unknown.

True to his beliefs, he wasn't alone in this new dream. But it wasn't Lloyd. It was something far more sinister. Seconds later, the Sandman felt a string wrap around his leg from inside the snow, before he was immediately pulled upwards out of the snow.

Normally, he would have been grateful for such a rescue, had it not been the thing before him to be something he did not expect.

The Sandman could not discern what was before him. It was a thing, that was for sure, but what thing exactly, that was impossible to find out. That creature had no distinctive features, no body, nothing. It was a giant jumbled mess of other beings formed together in agony.

One thing that remained a fact: it was horrifying.

It was at this point that the Sandman felt truly powerless. This was his dream no longer. It was only but the dream of the boy he underestimated greatly to let go. Had it not been for his arrogance, he wouldn't have let him free from his shackles that time. Yet it was that same arrogance that kept him going.

"So…," The Sandman was struggling against the thing that held him, but he was directing his words to Lloyd. "... you let go of your slothful desire… to that of pride—"

"Even so…" Lloyd's voice echoed.

He was the one holding the Sandman upright, in the place of the thing from before, this time. There was no smile on his face like before. His eyes were devoid of emotion.

"If it's to get out of here, to get everyone out of here, I'll do anything." His monotone voice rang in the Sandman's ears like a sharp sting that should never be forgotten.

Opening up his palm, he let go of the Sandman's leg, leaving him to fall. Instead of falling deep within the snow, the Sandman was dragged to another dream yet again.

Be it a world devoid of any life but the undead, a world that existed within a room of endless torture, a world where there was nothing but the dreadful eye of fire watching over you, or a world of his own nightmares.

Lloyd was not stopping.

And before long, the Sandman yielded. He was back in the dark void, a much safer place to him now than any of those other dreams.

With it being an endless road, the Sandman ran; ran away from the same boy he thought was nothing worthy of attention. He tripped, fell, stood back up again, ran, and then the same process repeated itself. Even in his escape, the cycle of torture wouldn't end.

The Sandman could not believe that such a boy, at his age, would exist. It did not make sense. There was not a single sense of normalcy surrounding him. Someone with a deranged and twisted mind like him should have been locked up forever.

However, this was one thing the Sandman did not understand. This was the terrifying beauty of imagination: the ability to trudge far away to places the mind could have never thought of reaching before.

For the final time, he fell to his knees, but he did not get back up. He crawled away as he felt the looming presence of Lloyd behind him. His steps could be heard, loud and clear, more terrifying than ever.

This tiresome chase went on until the Sandman had no energy left to hold his own.

He turned his body, which laid on the ground, to face Lloyd, who looked down on him with those dead eyes of his. It was truly the eyes of a madman.

"Please, please, enough, please. I can't—"

"You give dreams, yet you take them away. You offer freedom, yet you tie everyone in shackles." Lloyd raised his hand, "A thing like you should not exist…"

Particles formed around his hand before an object manifested out of thin air, it was a giant dagger, a murder weapon first and foremost.

So there he stood in the void, looking down on the Sandman with complete dead eyes, and a fierce, yet emotionless, expression on his face.

"A thing like you should die."

It was then that the Sandman realized: there was no hope.

He had no choice but to give up his arrogance and resolve to his final tactic as the arbiter of dreams.

The Sandman gave up the dream.

In no less than a second, the void was erased completely, and all that remained was the world outside. They were back in reality. There was no ground beneath them, for the void was originally formed up in the air.

However, in that split-second of transition, in that split-second where they were both falling down, Lloyd's emotionless expression turned to that of satisfaction. His eyes lit up with excitement and a victorious smile widened on his face.

"Juno! Now!"

He shouted.

This was all a ruse; a ruse to get the turtle out of its shell.

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