She was the kind of person who craved those special things in life, not quite satisfied with the world at face value. She knew there had to be something more, so whatever glimpses she caught of that special quality, she cherished. Esme had learned where to find enchantment in her life, and she went there often, especially when she was feeling low. An average mortal girl, she had taught herself where to find that special charm.

The thrill of a stolen kiss from a boy you just met.

Reading a story so fascinating that it draws you into it and makes it a part of you.

The unbreakable, invisible tie between mother and daughter, even over the distance of thousands of miles.

All these things contained that spark that Esme loved and saved for herself and her work. However, nothing contained more magic than those nightly plays in her mind.

Dreams.

Usually, she dreamt of things out of fairy tales, the original ones, which she always thought were more interesting. Sometimes, she'd be a beautiful princess in a tall tower. In other dreams, she had the role of a warrior who saved the kingdom and was rewarded even though her gender was discovered by the king. Often, she was both at the same time. However, Esme's usually comforting dreams had recently begun disturbing and confusing her, stopping just short of being scary. They'd all been basically the same, though the first ones, which had started less than a month ago, had been quite vague. First, it had been the ghost of a face, floating in the darkness, not as ominous as one might assume. Only one thing disturbed her about it.

The face had no eyes. Not even eye sockets. Just...shadow.

Over the course of a few weeks, the blurred lines began to focus, and the face became clearer. Still, she could see no eyes where they should have been. By now, the image was pristine and crisp, almost solid. It loomed in the void before her. She couldn't move toward it or away, for the place wasn't a place, and she had no body to move. She could only see and feel and sense, though not with her eyes and fingers, but with her being. That face was gazing upon her naked soul with its eyes that weren't even there.

Still, where many people would have been terrified, Esme stood her ground, so to speak, and was unafraid. She studied the face in her mind, both while dreaming and not, sometimes conjuring up the image during the day for a lack of better things to do. It was a man, she decided. The face was beautiful. So pale, though. She could see wild, white hair draping over its forehead, as though the person it belonged to needed a comb badly.

That night was no different. As soon as Esme drifted off, there he was, gazing at her, forever passive. She began to wonder whether he could even see her or not.

This dream began to take on a different quality, however. Suddenly, Esme was able to wriggle her fingers, which hadn't been there before. Her eyes opened. Her arms stretched. And there was more than just a face before her.

Right in front of the woman sat a man in a plain white chair, seemingly in deep meditation. He wore all white, which matched his unnaturally pale skin and hair. If she hadn't know better, Esme might have taken him for a marble statue. The thin fingers of his right hand were brought up to his brow as he sat, seemingly waiting, bracing themselves should his frail-looking neck give out under the weight of his thoughts.

Esme, suddenly unsure of herself, cursed softly, "Damn. Why won't you just go away...?" Despite her reservations, she approached what she sensed was a king on his throne. A king of what, though?

Ever so slowly, she reached out her hand to touch his arm, half expecting it to go straight through the vision. It didn't. He was quite solid. Once more, he wasn't of cold stone. His skin gave softly under her fingers, telling her that he was indeed of flesh and bone like her.

There was no reaction from the man. He simply sat, perfectly still, and thought. It appeared so to Esme, anyway. She gently put her hand to his cheek. She almost found herself enjoying the sensation. She then hesitated, sobering up to the fact that she was stroking the face of a complete stranger even though she could almost put a name to his face. Esme quickly snatched her hand away.

Still, the man didn't move or react in any way.

"I'm being silly," Esme admonished herself. She shook her head. "God, why does it have to me?" It wasn't a prayer, for Esme hadn't prayed since she was a little girl.

Less hesitant than before, figuring that nothing could really go wrong in a dream, she kneeled in front of the throne, trying to catch his downward cast eyes. His eyes...

He did have eyes, after all. Though, they were like no others she had ever seen. Pure black like the vacuum of space, a small star shining in each pupil with a startling intensity.

It wasn't his strange eyes that concerned her, however. From the look on his face, it looked as if the man was in pain. A rush of sympathy overcame Esme, and she suddenly wanted more than anything to comfort him. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug and trying to make him forget all his worries. Suddenly, the still figure hugged her back, shocking poor Esme. He whispered her name in her ear, "Esme..."

Esme fell back, landing on the floor behind her. Green eyes wide, she watched the man stand up before her, holding out a hand as if to help her up. Again, he called to her, "Esme. Esme, I love you." He came toward her. "Come to me."

She inched backwards into the darkness, keeping her eyes on the stranger. Once more, he reached out to her....

Esme woke up in her small bed, her legs tangled up in the thin covers. She sat up, still shaking off the strange images of the dream. Somehow, she knew that there would be no more mysterious faces looming in her dreams. She tried to make sense out of what she had seen.

"He loves me? How could he love me? He's a dream, a figment of my imagination," she told herself quietly as she got out of bed, her flannel night clothes a mess. Esme checked the clock. 1:38 A.M. "It's way too early for me to be up...." Still, she wasn't tired anymore and had no desire to go back to sleep. She was afraid that she might have to face the pale man again. Who was he, and who did he think he was?

Esme went into the kitchen and dining room of her studio apartment and made herself a pot of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Sipping on a cup of black, something she usually didn't do, preferring lots of cream and sugar, the young woman got a newspaper off of the table. Thursday, May 22nd, 2008. It was a few days old, but she needed something to occupy her time. Esme read the entire paper, front page to personals, a few times, until the sun came up.

The Dream King opened his eyes to see his throne room once again. He frowned. "She refused me...." He ran his fingers through his hair in concern. "What if she keeps refusing me?" Giving a sigh, Dream stood up and draped his white cloak back over his shoulders. He mulled the situation over in his mind and descended the stairs slowly. As he exited the room and closed the door behind him, he noticed a white raven perched on a wall ledge in the corridor.

"Hello, Tethys." He looked up at the bird, a solemn expression on his face although that wasn't all that unusual.

"Hello, M'Lord," Tethys replied. "Any luck?"

Dream looked down again. "No. She was frightened of me." He began to walk down the hallway to nowhere in particular, perhaps Lucien's library. Tethys flew over and landed lightly on his shoulder.

"Perhaps next time," he encouraged. "I'm quite sure that she will around sooner or later."

Dream gave another sigh. "Perhaps. I think I shall try another approach."

Tethys cocked her feathered head. "Oh?"

"I've seen her dreams. Her hopes. I can give her what she craves," he explained. "Magic."

"Is that why you love her, M'Lord?" Tethys asked abruptly. Realizing how rude that had sounded, she lowered her head a bit.

Dream, though a bit annoyed by the question, wasn't in the mood to even give his friend a stern look. "That, Tethys, is none of your concern. I love her because I do."

Tethys knew from experience to settle for that rather cryptic answer. "Yes, M'Lord. Of course."

"Wow, you look pretty bad, Ez," commented the ebony-skinned girl.

Esme looked up briefly from her sketch pad, giving her a slightly irritated look. "Gee, thanks, Mike. Not much sleep." There were dark bags under Esme's eyes, and her temper was abnormally short.

"Well, drink up, then!" Mike nudged Esme's cup of hot tea further toward her friend's side of the cafe table. "You look like you could use the caffiene." She smiled her wide, bright smile, trying to cheer Esme up.

Esme set down her pad and took a second to gulp down the rest of her drink, which seared her throat. She tried not to let the pain show on her face.

"Hey, who's this?" Mike asked, looking at Esme's recent drawings. "He's not bad lookin'. A squeeze of yours?" She teased the now blushing Esme, giving a wry grin.

Esme grabbed the papers from Mike's hands. "Of course not! Since when have I been into guys?" Esme grinned back, the first positive sign from her since she had met with her friend at the outdoor restaurant. "He's...no one...."

Mike looked at her critically. "No one? It has to be someone. Otherwise, why would you draw him?"

"Well, he's someone I saw in my dreams last night. He's not even real."

"Oh, I see. Your dream guy?"

Esme's cheeks flushed again. "Stop it!" She looked back down at her work and sighed. Tracing the mysterious man's face with a fingertip, she remembered his words: "Esme, I love you." She had copied her dream onto paper exactly. The dream man had the same meditative position, resting in his chair, his face filled with troubles, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders alone. She had worked hardest on the eyes, which was strange for something so simple. Somehow, she couldn't seem to capture the intensity that existed in their darkness. After that night, she couldn't stop thinking about him and the enigma he presented.

"Yoo-hoo! You there?" Mike snapped her fingers.

"Huh?" Esme's head shot up.

"I lost you there for a moment. You took a little trip to La-La Land." Mike caught sight of her watch. "Oh, God! I have to go! We've been talking for over an hour." She stood up quickly, slapped down some money for her part of the bill, and grabbed her purse. "Bye, Ez! I hope you feel better soon." After patting her friend quickly on the shoulder, Mike hopped onto her bike and pedaled off to a job interview.

Esme watched her go. Standing up slowly, careful not to fall over, she slung her pack over her shoulders and put down her money, leaving plenty left over for an ample tip. She grabbed her pad and pencil and caught a cable car to Golden Gate Park. Maybe there she could get some peace of mind.

Esme got in early that afternoon. For her, at least. She felt like an authentic zombie, her eyes the weight of two fat elephants. She sloppily poured some dry cat food into a small dish, bringing little Vader scampering in for an early meal. She stroked him on the back lovingly once or twice and made her way to the bed, curling up on top of the covers, not even bothering to change. She kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes at last. Sleep came swiftly, as did dreams....

A strong wind rustled the skirt of Esme's green sundress. She smiled and delighted in the way the soft, silken fabric felt against her legs. Giggling to herself, her eyes took in the scene around her. She stood in a large field, the emerald grass blowing in the same breeze that caught her dress. A forest was located not far away. The sky was very strange, lacking a sun and containing clouds in streaks of orange and magenta. Perhaps a sun was there, just hiding.

In this dream, she felt completely free. Still laughing, she ran against the wind, feeling it almost lift her feet from the ground. She knew that if she wished, she could take a leap into the air and fly like a bird. Esme ran until her legs were rubber and gave way beneath her. She fell to the soft ground in hysterics. Her old dreams had returned.

The woman stood up once more and looked to the forest, which seemed to be closer than ever now. Without a second thought, she entered. Almost at once, Esme came upon a babbling brook. Its babbling was quite literal. Thousands of small voices called out from it, though none of them formed words. Perhaps they were words, just in a strange tongue that Esme couldn't know. She wished that she did so that she could learn the stream's secrets.

There was a sound of leaves not a yard from her. Esme quickly hid behind a tree and watched a creature emerge from the bushes to have a drink, the creek protesting in its watery language. Her alarm immediately melted and transformed into wonder. A pure white unicorn rested before her, getting his fill from the spring.

Esme's bare foot snapped a twig, causing the unicorn to perk his ears up. The girl slowly came out from hiding and waved coyly. "Hi there!" she greeted him softly. To her surprise, instead of running away, the unicorn came up to her and nudged her hand. Grinning at the show of affection, she petted his head and scratched him behind the ears. He seemed to love it.

"You're a beautiful boy, aren't you?" It was true. He was so white that he seemed to shine with a silver sheen. It reminded Esme of the moon. "Do you have a name?" He just looked back at her, not having to give an answer. "How 'bout I name you?" She ran her hand over his wild, silvery mane. "Like the moon...like the Sea of Tranquility." She recalled her astronomy teachings. "Tranquility. That describes you perfectly.... You like that name?" He almost seemed to nod. "Okay, then. I'll call you Tranquil for short." She gave Tranquil's strong neck a quick squeeze.

Esme sat down beside the brook again, Tranquil following suit. She bent down to have a drink. The water was sweet. She watched as Tranquil nibbled on a bit of colorful mushroom. Feeling a bit hungry herself, Esme grabbed one growing beside her and took a bite. "Mmm...that's good!" The girl and the unicorn sat there for many minutes, eating, drinking, and enjoying each other.

Finally, Esme stood up and stretched. She had the itch to explore. As if on command, Tranquil stood up and leaned down a bit, waiting for Esme to climb on. She shrugged and mounted. It felt unnatural being so high off of the ground. "Uh...giddy-up?"

Tranquil took off, dashing in between the trees at a blinding speed. Esme held onto his neck for dear life, afraid of falling off and breaking hers. "Stop! Stop!" she cried. The unicorn halted, accidentally flinging Esme to the ground. As she tried to regain composure, she heard a muffled exclamation from one of the trees.

She was able to muster a weak "Who's there?"

"An escort," the female voice called down. "Are you all right?"

She stood up shakily, using Tranquil as crutch, and nodded. "Escort? Where are you?"

A bundle of white feathers swooped down to a low branch on the nearest tree. "Yes. I am Tethys."

Somehow, the sight of a talking raven didn't startle Esme that much, not when she had just fallen off of a unicorn.

"I was sent here to bring you to my master."

"Who's you master?" Esme asked, curious.

"The King of Dreams, Prince of Stories, Lord Dream," replied Tethys. "He wants to see you."

Realization struck the girl. "That's him! I've met him."

"He told me. He said you were scared."

Esme looked down a bit. "Well, I was just startled, really. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, if I did."

The raven shook her head. "I doubt it. He's quite the resilient one." There was a trace of a smile on her beak. "Now, would you and your unicorn like to follow me? Please be more careful this time." With that, she took off on a route leading to the heart of the Dreaming.

Esme mounted Tranquil again. "Follow Tethys, Tranquil." He looked at her for a second and began to gallop, a bit slower this time, after the bird.

The ride seemed to take forever. Esme started to notice that they were going in a very roundabout, spiral pattern. "Hey, Tethys," she called to their leader, "why don't we just go straight?"

"I'm afraid that this is the only route to the castle. You must be patient." He paused for a moment. "If that was a pegasus instead of a unicorn, we would be able to travel much faster." Esme silently agreed. Nothing more was said for a while until they neared their destination. "See those?" the raven asked. "Those are the Gates of Horn. We are almost there."

Esme simply nodded, not knowing what to expect once they passed through them. The gates swung open for them to enter. The girl looked up and stared in awe at the marvelous sight. The castle was more beautiful than anything should could ever have imagined. Tall, glimmering spires of glass and silver. Windows that shone like jewels in the sun. The large front entrance was guarded by a gyphon, a wyvern, and a hippogryph, which Esme recognized from her books on folklore and mythological animals. Standing in front of the tall doors was the man from last night, Lord Dream, she knew. As she was led up to him, she could see the promise of magic in his dark eyes.

Copyright Diana Marsh, 2000 (Dream and all Sandman characters are the creations of Neil Gaiman and Mike Dringenberg and trademarks of DC Comics and Vertigo. Tethys belongs to The Dreaming comic series. Esme and Tranquil are my creations and not to be used in any stories without my permission. This is a labor of love, and no money is being made off of it. Yadda, yadda, yadda...)

Thanks to queenB and Eden for their help and encouragement on this story. Hi, guys! Also, a huge thanks to the late and great John Lennon and his musical talents.