Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream


Faster, FASTER….

A solitary figure darted through the darkness, dodging obstacles only he could see through that hazy veil of shadows, lean frame jerking one way, then sharply careening in the opposite direction as he sought escape. 

Escape from what, he couldn’t say. He just knew.

You aren’t going to get there in time, you know….

He could feel his heart race, quick and fluttering like a moth caught in a spider’s tangled web as that voice echoed in his head, dark and malevolent. It never changed and he couldn’t block it. He’d never seen the man - and it was a man, that much he knew - but he imagined a cold visage with piercing eyes that could see into his soul. His breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, a vice like grip on his chest... squeezing….squeezing...

SQUEEZINGohmygodIcantbreathe...

….making it more and more difficult as he moved faster, mind trying to tell his legs to extend their stride - even as he felt the cramping lactic acid burn in his calves that indicated he was nearing his physical limit.

Nearing the end.

I’m coming to get you Kai…

He had to escape.

There’s no escape.

“Kim Jongin 09641, this is to notify you that your scheduled dreamtime here at SleepTight is now over. If you wish to continue beyond your allotted time then please return to the check-in station to deposit additional credits. Thank you.”

Jongin jolted into a seated position, fear-weakened limbs barely keeping him upright as the monotone female voice awakened him from his sleep. Slim, trembling fingers reached up to run through sweat-damp hair that clung to his flushed skin. “Just a dream….” he muttered to himself, half in relief and half, strangely enough, in regret. 

For you see, as frightening as the dream was (and make no mistake, it WAS), it felt more real, more honest and true, than the world Jongin awakened to. 

Jongin couldn’t remember a time without the Mainframe - for that matter neither could his father or grandfather (or at least that’s what he remembered them telling him before they disappeared, lost in the system). And like his father and grandfather before him he worked for the Mainframe as well, his world one of stark blacks and whites and muted, washed out greys. Nobody spoke up, nobody protested, everyone followed the rules set up by the Mainframe. Jongin was just one of the nameless many and he did just as he was told, working at the Facility without complaint. There was no war, no poverty, no hunger - but also no creativity, no sharing, no joy - no dreams, just unforgiving reality. Literature didn’t exist, the populace speaking in gigabytes and RAM, their alphabet a series of 0s and 1s. Music devolved into the soft whir and buzz of the hard drives, the sound sterile and antiseptic. Even smells were less than they had been, bitter and damp, cloying visceral memories of what they had once been.

The only respite from what had become the monotony of the real world was SleepTight. A visit to what some called a ‘dream brothel’ was granted once a month to each employee, a token attempt at boosting what little morale existed. How each individual chose to spend it was up to them, a last scrap of independence in a world that scorned it. Most citizens spent their allotted time in the arms of the entertainers at the brothel, dream constructs clad in pixels that shifted and reshifted, making the lovers anonymous and interchangeable, suited to fit whatever the customer desired. Blonde, brunette, thin, muscular, eyes of blue or brown - it didn’t matter. You could pick a different dream each time.

Jongin, however, didn’t pick lovers - he picked a different kind of excitement, an excitement that was borne of adrenaline and fear, that nameless, faceless Him that gave him more life than a pixelated kiss. 

The dark-haired man pulled off the sensors, tugging on his uniform (washed out, muted, neutral grey like everyone else’s, the fabric starched and stiff) and stood, managing to walk over to the door on legs that felt rubbery and weak. As the door slid open he looked back over his shoulder once, the expression of wistfulness on his face a stark contrast to the terror he had felt only moments - had it truly been only moments? - before.

And was it his imagination - it had to be - that Jongin could hear that now-familiar voice echoing in his ears as he stepped out of the room and into the real world, a world that felt plastic and unnatural yet was all he ever knew? It was a siren’s call that kept him coming back month after month.

Sleep tight….don’t let the bedbugs bite.



Jongin slid into his seat at the Facility half an hour later, a quick sonic wash freeing him of the sweat-damp skin and the stink of fear. However, as he entered data it was obvious that his fingers weren't steady, repetitive buzzing reminding him to correct his mistakes.

"Fingers aren't on home row?" Jongin's work partner was Jongdae, a young man with a sharp, elfin chin and sleepy eyes. He leaned back as well as he could in the Facility-provided and oh-so-comfortable metal chairs, trying to peek over and see Jongin's work. "Be careful. The Supervisors will start looking around here."

Jongin straightened in his seat and snuck a glance at his cubicle mate and friend (or as much as it was allowed), offering a slight nod of acknowledgement. "I will, thanks. Just need to get back into the usual routine."

"The usual routine. Do you ever wonder how usual it is?" Jongdae turned back to his data entry, eyes focused on the screen as the surveillance cameras turned their blank eyes his way. He had a habit of making vague statements that seemed out of place, the kind that got him extra "vitamins" during their meal breaks.

Jongin gave a barely perceptible wince as his fingers keyed in an 0 instead of a 1 and he corrected it quickly. Jongdae always confused him. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. This is the same thing my father did, and his father before him. It's all I know."

"Perhaps that's enough, then." Jongdae's fingers flew, processing data at an almost inhuman level. "What an interesting family tradition."

Jongin frowned, pausing in his actions. "You make it sound like we had a choice. No one has a choice anymore. That's just the way it is," he added in a low, resigned voice.

"We do." Jongdae didn't elaborate on what 'it' was, but knew that Jongin would get the idea.
Jongin's fingers fumbled over the keys once more and a yellow light flashed, singling out the young man for punishment later. For the first time, however, the usually obedient Kim Jongin ignored it. "We do? How do you know this?"

"Be very careful," Jongdae murmured, choosing not to say more on the matter. There were things at work that his coworker would simply have to find out for himself...things that were much larger than the Mainframe.

Jongin drummed his fingers on the keyboard, the silence extending between Jongdae and himself as each man returned his attention to the task at hand. However Jongdae’s words remained at the forefront of Jongin’s thoughts, even as the workday ended and the younger man took the crowded subway home to his small yet efficient apartment. His eyes darted around to see if anyone else seemed different but met with the same weary,resigned expression he saw on his own face when he looked in the mirror every morning. 

The following day was much like the ones before it but Jongin found himself glancing at Jongdae more often. Nothing seemed amiss - his friend was an ideal worker, his statistics as good as Jongin’s (or as Jongin’s were; yesterday’s events had caused him to slip). It was when they had stopped for the requisite 15 minute lunch that he saw it. The cart arrived with the required vitamins that every worker was instructed to take with lunch. Jongin had a bottle of his own at home to take after dinner. The three tiny white pills were placed on his desk in a fragile paper cup, and its twin was on Jongdae’s. Once the cart was gone Jongin picked up the cup and was about to tip it back when he saw Jongdae move out of the corner of his eye. The smaller man tipped the cup into his hand, the pills rolling out onto his palm. Eyes meeting Jongin’s he raised the hand to his mouth. He swallowed, lowering his hand when the action was complete. However, Jongdae offered the other a smile and looked down at his other hand.Jongin’s eyes followed and widened at what he saw.

There were the pills, unswallowed and untaken.

“I think I’m healthier without them. You would be too.”

Jongin’s pills were soon palmed and discarded as easily as Jongdae’s.

It was after a week of surreptitious mimicry of his cubicle mate that Jongin first noticed it. It was as he was leaving the subway and its crowd of gray-clad, emotionless riders that out of the corner of his eye he spotted a brief flash of color. There, on the ground, breaking through a crack in the blandness of the sidewalk was green. Jongin wasn't sure why he picked that word to describe the color or how he knew that was what the tuft of grass was....but it was green.

He blinked and the color faded slightly but didn't seep into the gray that it had been before. He stepped out of the flow of traffic and leaned down, plucking a blade and hiding it in his coat pocket as he made his way home. The color didn't fade when he looked at it again over dinner, rubbing the blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger, back and forth. He didn't realize that a smile much like Jongdae's had begun to touch the corners of his mouth, his eyes no longer quite as dead and unfeeling.

The blade stayed clutched in his hand as he turned in for the evening, his eyelids growing heavy as the light scent of something new and fresh filled his nose.

It was easier, he knew this, to give new dreamers something pleasant. Jongdae had given him the word but he waited until the fog from the pills had started to dissipate in Jongin's mind. All he needed was a suggestion, and he was able to transform that little bit of green in Jongin's pocket to a full meadow, a blazing field of green against a grey backdrop. When the rest of the colors became apparent, he'd know.

From the very first Jongin knew this wasn't like this dreams at SleepTight. There was no running, no heart-crushing fear, no worry that he wouldn't get out in time. No, this was something different but in a sense no less frightening. He blinked his eyes several times, shielding them with one hand from the expanse of vivid color. What was happening?

A lone figure stepped out from behind a tree, a young man just as grey and nondescript as the scenery save for the blade of grass he held between his fingers. despite his somewhat ordinary appearance, there was something still striking and distinctive about the way he moved.

It was just as Jongin's eyes grew accustomed to the color surrounding him that he noticed the other man, a man he didn't recognize but who at the same time felt achingly familiar. He watched the other warily as he approached.

"So you can see me." The man finally spoke, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I didn't imagine it would be this soon, Jongin."

Jongin froze, his eyes widening. He knew that voice....

I'm coming to get you Kai

It was Him.

"You can...see me, right?" He approached the young man carefully, his voice melodic, almost soothing.

Jongin could see him, alright. He could also hear the same voice that told him there was no escape. He didn't expect the voice to be connected to this face but he knew that voice. He shook his head and took a step back as the other approached, feeling a lump form in his throat and his heart begin to accelerate.

"Ah, perhaps then I misjudged your readiness." His voice sounded resigned. "I am not here to harm you, Kim Jongin. I am here to rescue you."

There was nothing malevolent in the other's voice this time but that still didn't set Jongin at ease. "Who are you?" he finally managed to get out, his throat dry and the words like lead on his tongue.

"I've got a few names," he replied. " Oneiros, Morpheus….You can call me Sehun, I suppose that's the easiest one. I'm a traveler, that's all...or perhaps an alarm. I wake people up."
Jongin repeated the name to himself, as if testing it out. He wasn't quite sure how he knew but he knew it felt right. "But I saw you at SleepTight...I saw you in my dreams. You are Him." He shuddered as he said the last word, the memory as vivid as before.

"So you made the connection." Sehun nodded, falling quiet as he chose his words carefully. "You could also call me Dream, but perhaps that's too formal. Yes, I have visited you before. Many times."

"You said you were coming to get me," Jongin murmured. "You called me Kai..." his voice trailed off in confusion. "Why me?"

"I only come for those who can handle what's real," the man replied. "Your friend Jongdae told me that you were ready to understand."

"Jongdae? You know Jongdae?" Jongin paused. "What do you mean, what's real?" He looked down, finding himself still holding that single blade of grass, even here.

"Jongdae is my friend," Sehun said simply. "I can't tell you everything that's real now, but you'll understand. You're already understanding. I know you can see green."

"Green," Jongin repeated the word in wonder, looking down at the fragile plant in his fingers, smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. "So that's what it is."

"You always remember your first color. As long as you keep dreaming, you'll see more. You'll start to understand."

"But I never saw colors in my dreams at SleepTight. They were still black and white and gray." Jongin shook his head. "Never like this." He looked up at Sehun, summoning the courage to take a step closer. A single step seemed like a mile. The young man across from him was austerely handsome and no longer frightening. "And you were never like this."

"Those dreams..those aren't real dreams," The man explained. "It's all manufactured, computers and chemicals and illusion. There's only so much that can be done there. But here, you'll learn. But it's time to wake up now, Jongin. You don't want to be late."

"But I have so much I want to ask," Jongin protested, impulsively reaching out for the other man. "So much I need to know. Are you real?"

"It's time, Jongin. They'll ask questions if you're late." Sehun's voice was gentle. "You'll see me again when you dream."

"Promise?" Jongin's fingers skimmed over Sehun's, the touch fleeting as he felt himself being pulled away. This time he didn't fight to escape the dream but instead fought to stay. However the steady drone of his alarm awakened him and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Had he imagined it all?

While Jongdae was careful not to say anything at work that could cause the supervisors to catch notice, he still managed to slip small things into Jongin's pockets-a tinged-brown leaf, a pebble with the tiniest flecks of yellow. To untrained eyes, Jongin's coworker was simply getting rid of debris, not showing him more of the world.

Brown, yellow, red, blue....the names were foreign but Jongin liked the way they rolled off his tongue, the taste sweet and leaving the young man wanting more. The colors that came in fleeting glimpses in his world were bright and resonant in his dreams, the slightest touch of blue peeking through grey clouds flared across the sky when he met with Sehun.

Sehun had kept his promise, slipping into Jongin's dreams at night but never answering if he were real. "This is what your world should look like. It's what it did, before the wars and the machines."

They had chosen to sit beside a stream, Jongin drawn to the contrast of blue water and green grass. He pulled his knees up to his chest, one finger trailing in the cold, biting water. It was intense but he found he liked it. "But why doesn't it? Why can't everyone see these colors? They are beautiful."

"There were smells, tastes...hot and cold. Textures. It was a gift, Jongin. A gift that people realized they could control, and thus bend people to their whims." Tall Sehun leaned back on his elbows, seemingly soaking up the sun.

"It feels more real here than it does there," Jongin murmured, looking up through mussed bangs at the long-legged man beside him. "You are more real than anyone but Jongdae."

"That will take time and secrecy," Sehun warned. "That will make your world real, but there is consequence to it. Can you accept that? Being traced and stalked from place to place, trying to find the rest of the Dreamers?"
Jongin thought about it. His father and grandfather had served the Mainframe, had given every bit of themselves to what it was today. Was Jongin prepared to do the same for a different cause?

The answer was easy. "If it means bringing the world back to this, then yes."

"Then you've got to shut the Mainframe down," Sehun said. "Shut it down and your world transforms. You know where it is, don't you? Where the heart of all this grey is?"

Jongin swallowed and nodded. He knew. Everyone knew where the Core of the Mainframe was...and there was an implicit order to stay away. It had been easy to do when he was taking his vitamins and he had never questioned it. After all, the order came from the Mainframe so it must be right. But now…

"You shouldn't have to just dream to feel," he said, his gaze still turned towards the sky. "That's how we feel, you know. That humans shouldn't have tried to hide these gifts."

Jongin reached over, tentatively running one slim finger against Sehun's hand where it rested on the grass. The other's man's skin was cool and smooth, a contrast to what Jongin now knew was his own tanned skin. "You say humans shouldn't have tried to hide these gifts. Sehun, what are you?" Jongin asked softly.

"I'm a Dream," he repeated. Sehun tossed his head, easily shaking dark hair out of his eyes. "I cannot exist in your world's current state, so I stay here. A Dream is far more than just sleeping, you know."

Jongin slowly pulled his hand away, shoulders sagging. "So the only way I can see you is here?" He knew the answer already but that didn't mean it hurt any less. With the colors came feelings, more than just the fear of his prior dreams at SleepTight - so much more. Sometimes Jongin's head spun with all he was feeling, and much of it revolved around the man - the Dream - beside him. It wasn't fair.

"Break the Core, and you'll know what a Dream really is." A sigh escaped the man's slender frame. "A Dream doesn't mean sleep, or fantasy. A Dream is what you desire. It's emotion, color, everything that was drained from your world. Once your world dreams, it's safe for us to appear."

"You must think I'm being foolish," Jongin said quietly. "I'll try my best; that's all I can do."

"...Describe green to me, Jongin."

Jongin looked up at the man seated beside him, confused at first. Then he took a deep breath. "Green is...new, and fresh, and clean. It's...happy. When I see green I feel happy. I think maybe it's the color that is missed the most at home." He paused, then added. "It's hope - green is hope."

Sehun nodded, apparently pleased with that answer. "Everything you couldn't fathom began with a real dream. Break the Core, Jongin. Jongdae tried, but he knows you can do it. Break the Core. Then you'll see me in green."

Jongin looked up at Sehun in surprise - and right at that moment his alarm went off, awakening him. "No!" he groaned, sitting up and cradling his head in his hands. He looked around his room, the colors no longer just blacks and whites and grays but muted shades of the yellows and blues - and yes, greens - that seemed to be echoes of his dreams. But he didn't want echoes anymore. He wanted the real colors.

He wanted Sehun.

"Break it," a voice whispered in his ear, even though no one else was in Jongin's room.
Jongin didn't need to hear the words to know that was what he needed to do. Dressed, he left his apartment and followed the flow of workers to the subway as he did every day. However, instead of stopping at his building he passed by, face still seemingly as blank as those around him but eyes intent on one goal.

The workers quickly filed into their respective buildings as the buzzers sounded and doors slammed shut, locking them in for their usual day of staring at a screen and typing in seemingly useless data. The streets were silent, save for the soft humming coming from a building covered in grey warnings--that it was part of the Mainframe, and that any tampering would cause global death.

Jongin stepped up to the building - and froze. Every fiber of his being tried to tell him that this was not allowed, that this building was forbidden. He had been taught this from the moment he had been given an Intellipad and shown how to enter binary code.

"Break it," the voice insisted again before whispering off a series of numbers-a code for the door, a way to stop the electronic eyes from recognizing him as an intruder.

The warmth of Sehun's voice broke years of training and Jongin's fear faded away, the young man entering the code, door opening with a soft whoosh of sound. Jongin stepped inside, the air stale and warm as he took a deep breath.

The halls were silent, supervisors' backs turned towards the doors. They had their thousands of grey cubicle slaves to oversee, they had no time for the likes of Jongin, just another little worker late on his day at the Mainframe.

Jongin followed instinct and passed down the hall, pulled in one direction. Somehow - whether it was from Sehun or someone else - he knew just where to go. The room was small and unattended, the computer old but still functioning.

An alarm suddenly started to blare, robotic voices announcing an intruder, demanding that he be subdude. Footsteps pounded above the room, all suddenly searching for the rogue worker.

"Break it. You've got no time. Break it, now!"

Without a second thought Jongin raised his hand.

For you... he thought of his family, of his father and grandfather, lost to the Mainframe.

For you… he thought of Jongdae and the risks he took to open Jongin’s eyes, even at the risk of his own safety.

For you… and he thought of green...and Sehun.

Just Sehun.

He brought his hand down, the glass beneath his fingertips shattering.

The alarm suddenly stopped as the building fell silent for a moment, then the questions began. Where were they, what happened to all the grey, why were they suddenly hot or cold or happy or confused?

Jongin collapsed into the chair beside the computer that had run their lives for so many years, blood dripping from the cuts that newly decorated his hand, too stunned to even feel the pain..

"Red..." he muttered numbly.

"Not grey?" asked a familiar voice.

Jongin slowly looked up to confirm that the voice wasn't still in his head. "Sehun?"

The lanky boy leaned against the doorframe, hair now bleached and dyed a variety of colors, which poked out under a thick, emerald green knit hat. "I told you I'd be wearing green."

"But you are just a dream...." Jongin murmured, slowly standing. He looked down at his bleeding hand and winced; it was starting to hurt.

Sehun stepped into the room and reached for Jongin's uninjured hand, his touch now warm and solid. "I'm real."

"But how..." Jongin's voice trailed off, the warmth of Sehun's hand against his own distracting.

"You. You made this Dream real," Sehun murmured. He led the way upstairs, pausing by the front door. "There's pain in this world now. There's sadness and loss. But there's a lot of good here too, everything you've ever wanted-and even beyond your dreams. It's still up to you. Do you open that door?"

Jongin looked down at the hand curling around his own so securely, his own physical pain fading. "Yes," he said quietly yet firmly. "It's worth it."

"It's waiting for us, Jongin. Things are green outside, and they're waiting." Sehun offered his friend a rare smile and pushed open the door into the suddenly bright sunlight.

Jongin's answering smile was sweet and wistful, tanned fingers twining securely with Sehun's pale ones as he stepped outside, towards hope.