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From the moment of his first breath, Jack has been afraid. Afraid of the dark, afraid of the sunlight, afraid of the ice crackling beneath his feet and beneath his skin, afraid of the people in the villages who do not see him. They can tear him apart without knowing, without meaning to and Jack can’t hate them for it but it hurts, it hurts so terribly.
The world is a vast and dangerous place and trouble seems to search him out. He flies on the Wind to brilliant cities and decrepit hollows, to ruins and rising empires, he follows the sunrise around the world. He encounters other spirits, some who ignore him, others who attack him. He fears them also. Pained and injured, wounded to his very soul, he rests for the first time since his birth.
There are things to fear even in sleep.
Nightmares, mutters a voice, somewhere behind his eyes and before his hair. He shakes his head, the images don’t matter, there are worse things in the world. But he cannot find it in himself to sleep again.
So he fights the exhaustion, knowing he can go for at least a few weeks before he tires. Not like the children who sleep every night. He watches them, watches golden Sand drift down, down, down over their heads and spin and twirl into happy things. Perhaps he does not have those happy things – Dreams, supplies the voice behind his eyes – because he is invisible. Perhaps not even the Sand can see him.
But then the Sand begins to follow him, to chase him through the sky. It wants to make him sleep and so he begins to fear the sand as well. The Wind carries him high and low and into caves and crevices so the Sand cannot find him. He refuses to sleep, knows what lies in the abyss of unconsciousness, he will not have Dreams, only Nightmares and he fears sleep with all his might.
--
A bit of Sand seems to have escaped his grasp. It runs amok, never returning at daybreak as it should and so the Dream Giver follows it. He watches as it appears to chase the Wind through the skies and into forests, over continents and oceans. Sandy wonders if this wayward stream of Sand has fallen in love with the Wind. It would be very sweet if it had, but the Sand had duties, it could play with the Wind later. He pulls at it, urging it back with light reprimand.
But it tugs back.
Something is wrong and the Guardian of Dreams allows the wisp of Sand to guide him.
--
Jack huddles in the rocky niche, hidden by thick snowfall. There is not much to do while he is hiding so he must keep his eyes open wide and speak with the Wind to keep himself awake. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep while the Sand was following him.
The Wind ruffles his hair and buffets his soft cheeks, telling him where they will go next and where he should bring snow and how Antarctica isn’t really scary at all and they should go visit the penguins. He chatters back, asking and prodding and urging the Wind to say more, explain more, because he does not want to sleep.
A bright light begins to form somewhere out in the snowstorm. The Sand, he thinks. His heart pounds in terror because the Sand has found him, will make him sleep and then he will have Nightmares!
The Wind does not move, no matter how much Jack screams for it to take him away. A Friend is coming, it explains and Jack can only sit in utter terror as the golden light moves forward, rushing toward him through the blizzard.
A small man forms from the light, though. Jack stares for a moment, vision shaky from exhaustion. The man comes forward and the young spirit can see the Sand wrapped around the stout little figure as he floats toward Jack.
The Sand shifts and reforms above the man’s head.
Hello, it says and Jack realizes he can read.
“H-hello,” he calls back, shrinking into the shadow of his crevice in the cliff side. The man can see him! Jack is so scared though, this new being, so bright and warm, may try to fool him. The other spirit is obviously friends with the Sand and might try to make him sleep!
He must be right because the Sand begins to reach out for him, trying to touch him. He holds his staff out to ward the brilliant, glowing substance off. The little man frowns. More Sand glitters over the man’s head and Jack somehow understands that this is the man’s name.
“Sandy,” he murmurs. “Why do you want to hurt me?”
He doesn’t mean to say it but it comes out anyway and Sandy’s eyes grow wide and sad. Jack feels horrible, somehow, even though the man is the one trying to hurt Jack. The Sand changes shape again, asking for an explanation.
“I’ll have Nightmares,” says Jack. “I’m scared of Nightmares…”
Sandy’s warm eyes stare gently at him, and Jack knows that Sandy will not give him Nightmares but Dreams, like the children he watches through windows at night. He lets Sandy and his Sand embrace him then, pulling him from the crevice and he drifts away into a Dream.
--
Sandy is a round little man, his hair is soft, his Sand is warm, and his eyes are full of equal parts mischief and love. Jack feels warm and safe in his soft arms, no longer afraid.