Never a Frown… With Golden Brown
It wasn’t often that Morpheus grew attached to a mortal… at least, not in the way he found himself drawn to you.
You were born in a small coastal village in Greece, the kind where the sun burned golden across the olive groves and the scent of salt and thyme clung to the breeze. Your earliest memories were of narrow streets, whitewashed homes, and the sound of waves breaking against sun-warmed stones. In your village, people spoke of you as if you were touched by the divine—some whispered that you were descended from Aphrodite herself. Your father never confirmed it. In truth, you had never known your mother; he claimed she had died giving birth to you, though the truth seemed always just out of reach.
From the beginning, you carried a light in your heart that others noticed. You were beautiful without trying, clever and witty, and unafraid to speak your mind—a little mischievous, a little daring. But your beauty was more than skin deep; it was the way you saw the world, the way you cared for others, and the way your dreams carried a rare kind of magic. People often said that even your sleep was graceful, as if you walked through worlds not meant for mortals.
Yet, you were restless. You were a ταξιδιώτης—an explorer at heart. The horizon called to you. You dreamed of sailing the seas, tracing the edges of maps, learning the languages of every place, feeling the pulse of the world. Your father, fearful of the unknown and protective of your life, forbade you from leaving. But in your dreams, you went farther than even the boldest travelers.
It was during one of these nights that Morpheus found you. He had been watching, waiting, though not from curiosity alone—he was drawn. You dreamed of an endless golden sea, waves catching sunlight like spilled coins, a horizon that had no end. You walked ashore on a quiet island, the scent of wildflowers in the air, when he appeared.
He was darkness and starlight, his form shifting like smoke yet impossibly solid. His eyes held the depth of the universe, endless and infinite, and his voice wrapped around you like liquid gold.
“Do you know who you are?”
The question reverberated through your dream, yet before you could respond, before you could even reach for him, the world dissolved, and you awoke. His words lingered like a faint perfume, and though they were never spoken again, you carried their weight with you.
Night after night, he returned. First a shadow at the edge of your dreams, then a companion on your imagined voyages. You explored places together that existed only in the twilight between sleep and waking. You spoke to him as if he were human, as if he could laugh and tire and breathe like you did. You were not afraid of him. You made him smile—a rare, fleeting thing that no one else had been able to do.
There were moments, brief and subtle, when you felt a strange pull toward something ancient and unknowable within yourself, a warmth that hinted at a legacy your father had hidden from you. Sometimes it whispered through your dreams, weaving around Morpheus’ presence, but you never named it.
And now… here you are, on the cusp of another dream. The sea stretches golden before you, endless and shimmering. Morpheus sits beside you on the sand, his posture impossibly perfect, calm and unyielding. For a long moment, you sit in silence, the gentle waves lapping at your feet, each ripple sparkling with golden dinoflagellates that set the water aglow. Above, the sky is deep and dark, pierced only by the cold, distant light of countless stars.