I, Sandman
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Short Story by: Ted Gerard
"To sleep and to never have to worry about the Dreaming…ahhh now that...that would be true bliss dear sister. “ He said with a breathy sigh.
Sandman, Master of the Dreaming lay in a field of nightmare lilies with a stick of incense in his mouth filling the air with a fragrant mix of sweet oil as it burned slowly towards his pale lips. He was dressed in a black gossamer shirt that was unbuttoned showing a streak of his pale alabaster chest that transformed into his abdomen then flowed into his black jeans.
Death, looked upon her brother with a mixture of emotions that ranged from mild contempt, to disdain, amusement and admiration. She was even a bit envious that her brother could even think of wanting some kind of reprieve from their existence.
Who else but the Ruler of the Dreaming would have dreams of eternal sleep for the sake of actually sleeping!
Death smiled at the thought…she looked at her brother and then kissed him lovingly on his forehead.
"Sweet Dreams baby brother. I will wake you soon, until then...rest." She said with a motherly tone.
Sandman closed his eyes, rolled over and smiled.
"I think I'll do just that..." He mumbled. His voice trailed off as he dreamt with no worry of the Dreaming.
© Copyright 2019 Ted Gerard. All rights reserved.
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