A Dream without a Dream

It felt like waking up.

He had dreaming for so long, silly dreams where he did whatever he wanted and no one cared because no one cared about him, and because, well.... it was a dream. There is no morality when you're dreaming, no right or wrong. You can steal someone's familiar and drag is about, laughing until you cry as they yell into the night. You can flirt with a pretty-enough chit, lead them on and lead them around, playing the perfect little prince to their silly little tale. A happily ever after or at your death we now part?

There can be no morality when you have no power to change what is happening to you.

But now - now he was awake, aware, with knowledge in his heart that he'd be able to find the one that he'd called "Mother". She was alive, and well, and loved him, and he would see her soon, if he just wandered long enough. He must have been ill, to have sleepwalked so far from her, but that didn't matter. In the dream she had been gone, and he didn't want to fall asleep again. If he did, if he had to, he, at least, was happy to know that it would be with her at his side.

With a view on the future he hadn't had since he first fell asleep, he walked deeper into the fog.