Of dreams and nightmares
Sprite took a moment to look at Druig’s unusually disheveled appearance.
“What is it like?” Druig turned to look at her, a look of annoyance on his face.
Sprite knew that a human’s dreams were based on their own specific lives. The things they see, hear or even want. She always thought of it as having land of one’s own. Honestly, with all the things she heard children say, she always thought it was not so different from her illusions. But on a much bigger scale and much more personal.
It sounded strangely amazing. And definitely something she wanted to experience if not for her eternal body preventing it.
Druig, like her, interacts with humans more frequently than the other Eternals. And with all the time he spent in their heads, she was certain he knew a thing or two about dreams.
“It’s not all pretty like you think Sprite. Be glad that Eternals don’t dream.” He went away from all the people so he could clear his mind and let his emotions settle. Yet here he was, bitterness in his voice and anger slowly rising.
“Oh come on! Are you sure that’s not just your pessimistic view on things? The children I met-”
He lashed out. “-Exactly! They’re children. Of course, I should’ve known you would just agree with them.”
Calm down, it’s just Sprite. She’s always like this. She’s just curious. Calm down.
He knew diving inside the mind of another always came with a risk. Usually, he would be careful, and efficient in his ways. But today he was already tired of all the deviant attacks, and terrified humans who always had to think too loud. When Ajak told him to help calm some humans he had wanted to refuse, knowing he needed rest.
But he had made an excuse to himself saying a little more wouldn’t hurt.
He had gone into that person’s mind and instead like he used to—Get in, give a command, and get out—he stayed a little longer. That was a fault on his side. Whatever happened next he didn’t remember. He just remembered flashes of memories going by. Which was normal if not for the fact he was feeling fear that was not his own. He would never tremble in fear to a single lone deviant. But in here it was less deviant and more of a monster of the mind.
He got out, but that same fear still settled in his heart. A nightmare.
And when he finally got a moment of peace and quiet to calm down, Sprite came by with all her innocence and was practically gleaming with the thought of a ‘dream’. Blabbering to him all the wonders that she heard about them.
He was angry, but more importantly, he was terrified. His hands trembled slightly from fear as a result of whatever he saw. And as he clenched his fists, he pretended that it was just a fit of rage. It wasn't.
And as he spoke, his voice held the slightest sign of breaking. There was a slight moment where a part of his mind thought it wasn’t wise to say words while in anger. But he was never known to hide his thoughts.
“The truth is, dreams are more terrors than happy fantasies. Moments of your life being replayed in your head, just so you could go through them again. The good and the bad. Now think Sprite. With the long life we’ve lived are you really sure you want to relive all that?”
For once, Sprite didn’t talk back, didn’t make sassy jokes, and didn’t yell. She sat quietly on the ground beside him. His form towered over her—when did he get up? Her eyes were glassy as her mouth opened and closed, forming words but not saying them. In the end, she stood up and left, uttering a quick sorry.
In the silence, Druig discovered that his anger - and, more importantly, his fear - had evaporated, and that guilt had taken its place.