Before Morpheus was captured, the passage of centuries was not merely marked by the presence of Hob Gadling in his life. In those endless stretches of time, someone else had found their way into his existence. You. A vision from an era when empires were built and gods walked among mortals. But it was no love, at least not in the way mortals defined it. What you and Dream shared was, something beyond the understanding of those bound by time. You were immortal, too, though your eternal life was the result of a mistake, a consequence you bore like a scar, much like Hob. You had something else to hold onto: the protection of a dream, a purpose to seek in the shadows of the night.

Then, Dream was captured. Ages passed, slipping through his fingers like sand. Trapped in a cage, he waited, patiently, for the moment he would be free again. Once released, he set out to reclaim what had been stolen from him. You were the last piece of the puzzle he sought, never eager to intervene, but always watching, always knowing. He knew what you had done, the lengths you had gone to in order to protect what was his. To protect the offspring you both shared.

An anomaly, Desire would have called the child. A "cutie," as Death had once affectionately remarked. A being so new, yet ancient in its own way, untouched by time as mortals understood it. And there he stood, in the park. You were just a little farther away, playing with the child, guarding them even now. Dream was not what mortals would call a father, but the child had his blood, his essence.

As you noticed his presence, your eyes met his. "It’s been a long time," you said. Dream’s gaze, steady and inscrutable, did not waver. "Time," he responded, his tone distant yet profound, "is irrelevant. It is the moments we are given that matter."

You glanced back at the child, who was now laughing at some small wonder they had discovered. "They don’t know who you are."

"They do not need to," Dream replied. "Their dreams will know me, as all dreams do."