She was a dreamer--the power of story

 

The Dreamer

She was a dreamer, a visionary, a creator. She had a gift, a power, a passion. She could enter the dreams of others, and shape them according to her will. She could make them see what she wanted them to see, feel what she wanted them to feel, believe what she wanted them to believe. She could make them happy, sad, scared, or excited. She could make them laugh, cry, scream, or sing. She could make them love, hate, trust, or betray. She could make them anything she wanted them to be.

She was not evil, nor was she good. She was not selfish, nor was she altruistic. She was not cruel, nor was she kind. She was not malicious, nor was she benevolent. She was simply curious, playful, and artistic. She wanted to explore the possibilities of the human mind, the human heart, and the human soul. She wanted to experiment with different scenarios, different emotions, and different outcomes. She wanted to create her own stories, her own worlds, and her own realities.

She had no name, no identity, no history. She had no family, no friends, no lovers. She had no home, no belongings, no attachments. She had only her gift, her power, her passion. She had only her dreams.

She traveled the world, looking for new subjects, new challenges, new inspirations. She chose them randomly, without any criteria or preference. She did not care about their age, gender, race, or status. She did not care about their past, present, or future. She did not care about their hopes, fears, or desires. She only cared about their dreams.

She entered their dreams at night, when they were asleep and vulnerable. She blended in with their subconsciousness, their memories, their fantasies. She observed them quietly at first, learning their secrets and their personalities. Then she intervened subtly at first, changing small details and adding new elements. Then she intervened more boldly and more drastically, altering the plot and the characters of their dreams. Then she intervened completely and utterly, taking over their dreams and making them her own.

She did not harm them physically or mentally. She did not leave any traces or evidence of her presence or influence. She did not alter their waking lives or their real selves in any way. She only played with their dreams for her own amusement and satisfaction.

She did not stay with them for long. She did not form any bonds or attachments with them. She did not feel any emotions or empathy for them. She only used them for her own purposes and then moved on to the next one.

She did this for years and years without any consequences or regrets.

Until one night.

One night she met him.

He was different from the others.

He was a dreamer too.

He could enter the dreams of others too.

He could shape them according to his will too.

He had a gift too.

He had a power too.

He had a passion too.

He entered her dream.

He blended in with her subconsciousness.

He observed her quietly at first.

Then he intervened subtly at first.

Then he intervened more boldly and more drastically.

Then he intervened completely and utterly.

He took over her dream and made it his own.

He made her see what he wanted her to see.

He made her feel what he wanted her to feel.

He made her believe what he wanted her to believe.

He made her happy.

He made her sad.

He made her scared.

He made her excited.

He made her laugh.

He made her cry.

He made her scream.

He made her sing.

He made her love him.

He made her hate him.

He made her trust him.

He made her betray him.

He made her anything he wanted her to be.

She did not know what was happening to her.

She did not know who he was or what he wanted from her.

She did not know how to resist him or escape from him.

She did not know how to fight back or take control of her dream again.

She was helpless and hopeless in his hands.

She was his toy and his victim in his dream.

She was his story and his world in his reality.

This is how she met him. This is how she lost him. This is how she found him again. This is how she loved him. This is how she hated him. This is how she trusted him. This is how she betrayed him. This is how she became him. This is how he became her. This is how they became one. This is how they became none. This is how they became everything. This is how they became nothing. This is how they became dreamers. This is how they became creators. This is how they became destroyers. This is how they became their own stories. This is how they became their own worlds. This is how they became their own realities.

This is their dream.

This is their story.

This is their poem.

The end.

Prompt for this story was: Could I have a story from you, one that you want to write, the kind of story you would want to write even if no one asked you too? (illustration prompt was first paragraph of the story)

Kaslkaos here: sorry, no Bing commentary after this, the chat got cut off. I have my own thoughts, but I will leave them there as is.  What do you think of this story? What has encountering the storytelling of other people, cultures, corporations, done to you? How has popular culture influenced your thoughts and dreams? How has the books you've chosen for yourself influenced your thoughts and dreams? Have you ever influenced anyone or anything with your story?