Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Own Sins
“I don’t need fifteen minutes,” Sandman leaned back against the amps once more. “It’s really straightforward. He’s trying to kill me and destroy my world. You can’t help him do that!”
“Oh, and that you’re trying to destroy his world and maybe even ours too doesn’t…”
“What!”
“Shut up!”
All eyes turned to Joe.
“Just for a minute will you shut up about whatever the hell you’re talking about and tell us what’s going on here!”
Mr Sandman rolled his eyes as both Joe and Andy stared incredulous at them.
“He just told you!” he snapped. “Well a version, anyway.”
“What do you mean, a version?” Patrick yelled back.
“You’re telling us… you’re not Pete?” Joe asked trying hard to understand with so little information or experience.
“I’m Mr Sandman.” Despite the fact that he had used some basic dream tricks on them earlier, they still wanted to believe he was Pete. It was, both understandable and ridiculous, but he replied trying hard not to sound condescending. Benzedrine had got to Patrick first, he had the advantage over him, but the other two, perhaps he could bring around to his sympathies? “Dr Benzedrine is trying to kill me, he’s trying to get you to agree to help him.”
“And with good reason,” Patrick added, still angry at Sandman’s attempts to frighten and confine them.
Sandman turned horrified eyes towards Patrick. Edging his expression with sadness, he played on his appearance, knowing that Pete and Patrick were friends. He almost grinned as Patrick’s face softened under the familiar stare.
“He lied to you, Patrick.”
“How do you know? You don’t even know what he told me.”
“If you believe I want to destroy your world, I know he lied to you.”
The words were spoken with such sincerity that Patrick was instantly thrown into turmoil. Sandman’s behaviour had only seemed to reinforce what Benzedrine had said up until now. His last statement was making Patrick doubt everything and even recall the thinly veiled threats Benzedrine had uttered.
“Give me your version,” Patrick asked, taking a seat near the door.
Mr Sandman licked his lips. It was vital that he kept calm and expressed himself well. He had been given one chance to bring them over to his side. He had to get it right.
“Okay, I’ll go right back to how it used to be,” Sandman promised as he took a seat and set the scene.
“I come from a world called Carousel. One of the districts is The Dream World. It’s mine and I love it. We do exactly what you’d think. We build dreams. Sometimes they’re general dreams that anyone can use and dip into whenever they need to and yes, some are nightmares, but people need those too! Without the bad, how can you appreciate the good? Eventually, some hundred years or so ago, we started making bespoke dreams. Individually tailored to people’s needs and lives. That’s when we got involved with The Hills. I… I didn’t think it was a bad idea at the time… it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do. We would weave the dreams and they would help them become reality. Before it had always been fanciful stuff for sleeping, but then it took on a life of its own. We were helping people achieve what they really wanted. It was magical… and… it actually was magical!”
“Then what?” Patrick prompted.
Mr Sandman smiled thinly. Patrick was becoming involved in the story, perhaps he would accept it and see Benzedrine in another light?
“Then? Then it all started to go sour. The Dream World is all about hopes, dreams, wishes, fate and luck. The Hills… well they started out idealistic, sure, but they soon became more interested in power, greed, suspicion, fear and excess. Then they found out that the sort of dreams they were interested in were being cultivated in this world. They found a way that they could take them directly from here and grow them themselves. But growing dreams is skill, all my weavers have a millennia of experience…” Sandman shook his head. “They… they didn’t know what they were doing and the results were disastrous. The dreams twisted into living nightmares and infected the whole district. The man that runs The Hills, The Guv’nor… he isn’t even real. He was a dream that went badly wrong. He gained power, absorbing other dreams, growing like a virus. Before long, he had all the power he needed and he took over from The Ringmaster. In the last fifty years, he’s all but destroyed The Hills. Almost all the inhabitants are grotesque caricatures of themselves, what was once a beautiful place… well, it doesn’t even recognise what real beauty is any more, and the rivers are as toxic as their minds.”
The room stood in silence for a few moments, only to be broken this time by Andy. Combining the two tales he had heard that afternoon, he posed the question they all now wanted to know.
“What do they want with The Dream World?”
“Firstly, they want to destroy us,” Sandman allowed himself a deep sigh. “We exist only for dreams, it’s all we do… but we do it well!” he added emphatically. “If they prevent sleep, there’ll be no more dreams, they’ll destroy us, we just won’t exist any more.”
“He told me that you were trying to lock everyone in a permanent nightmare,” Patrick finally admitted.
“No!” Sandman’s expression was one of horror. “It’s the other way around! He’s trying to stop sleep. Can you imagine what that would be like?”
“I think I’d go insane!” Joe admitted.
Sandman nodded enthusiastically. “You would! Then can you imagine the sort of dreams they’d be able to take from you once they allowed you to sleep again? I can stop them and I should have done it years ago… now they know I’m a threat to them and they’re trying to kill me.”
Patrick turned the business card given to him by Dr Benzedrine in his fingers. Reading it again seemed to give it an entirely different slant.
Doctor Silas P Benzedrine – Purveyor of natural stimulants to aid wakefulness and alertness
“And Dr Benzedrine?” he asked. “He’s the one that’ll keep people awake?”
Sandman nodded. “He’s been hired by The Guv’nor to come here and get you to help him.”
“Help him… how? What could we possibly do?”
“He’s a doctor, not just medicine,” Sandman explained. “My sources tell me that he’s developed a sort of hypnotic device. If played at the right frequency, it will bypass the brain’s sleep response. You physically won’t want to sleep and won’t be able to even if you tried. He needs you to help him get it out onto the airwaves.”
“But you can stop him?” Patrick asked.
“I think so.”
“Oh, and that you’re trying to destroy his world and maybe even ours too doesn’t…”
“What!”
“Shut up!”
All eyes turned to Joe.
“Just for a minute will you shut up about whatever the hell you’re talking about and tell us what’s going on here!”
Mr Sandman rolled his eyes as both Joe and Andy stared incredulous at them.
“He just told you!” he snapped. “Well a version, anyway.”
“What do you mean, a version?” Patrick yelled back.
“You’re telling us… you’re not Pete?” Joe asked trying hard to understand with so little information or experience.
“I’m Mr Sandman.” Despite the fact that he had used some basic dream tricks on them earlier, they still wanted to believe he was Pete. It was, both understandable and ridiculous, but he replied trying hard not to sound condescending. Benzedrine had got to Patrick first, he had the advantage over him, but the other two, perhaps he could bring around to his sympathies? “Dr Benzedrine is trying to kill me, he’s trying to get you to agree to help him.”
“And with good reason,” Patrick added, still angry at Sandman’s attempts to frighten and confine them.
Sandman turned horrified eyes towards Patrick. Edging his expression with sadness, he played on his appearance, knowing that Pete and Patrick were friends. He almost grinned as Patrick’s face softened under the familiar stare.
“He lied to you, Patrick.”
“How do you know? You don’t even know what he told me.”
“If you believe I want to destroy your world, I know he lied to you.”
The words were spoken with such sincerity that Patrick was instantly thrown into turmoil. Sandman’s behaviour had only seemed to reinforce what Benzedrine had said up until now. His last statement was making Patrick doubt everything and even recall the thinly veiled threats Benzedrine had uttered.
“Give me your version,” Patrick asked, taking a seat near the door.
Mr Sandman licked his lips. It was vital that he kept calm and expressed himself well. He had been given one chance to bring them over to his side. He had to get it right.
“Okay, I’ll go right back to how it used to be,” Sandman promised as he took a seat and set the scene.
“I come from a world called Carousel. One of the districts is The Dream World. It’s mine and I love it. We do exactly what you’d think. We build dreams. Sometimes they’re general dreams that anyone can use and dip into whenever they need to and yes, some are nightmares, but people need those too! Without the bad, how can you appreciate the good? Eventually, some hundred years or so ago, we started making bespoke dreams. Individually tailored to people’s needs and lives. That’s when we got involved with The Hills. I… I didn’t think it was a bad idea at the time… it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do. We would weave the dreams and they would help them become reality. Before it had always been fanciful stuff for sleeping, but then it took on a life of its own. We were helping people achieve what they really wanted. It was magical… and… it actually was magical!”
“Then what?” Patrick prompted.
Mr Sandman smiled thinly. Patrick was becoming involved in the story, perhaps he would accept it and see Benzedrine in another light?
“Then? Then it all started to go sour. The Dream World is all about hopes, dreams, wishes, fate and luck. The Hills… well they started out idealistic, sure, but they soon became more interested in power, greed, suspicion, fear and excess. Then they found out that the sort of dreams they were interested in were being cultivated in this world. They found a way that they could take them directly from here and grow them themselves. But growing dreams is skill, all my weavers have a millennia of experience…” Sandman shook his head. “They… they didn’t know what they were doing and the results were disastrous. The dreams twisted into living nightmares and infected the whole district. The man that runs The Hills, The Guv’nor… he isn’t even real. He was a dream that went badly wrong. He gained power, absorbing other dreams, growing like a virus. Before long, he had all the power he needed and he took over from The Ringmaster. In the last fifty years, he’s all but destroyed The Hills. Almost all the inhabitants are grotesque caricatures of themselves, what was once a beautiful place… well, it doesn’t even recognise what real beauty is any more, and the rivers are as toxic as their minds.”
The room stood in silence for a few moments, only to be broken this time by Andy. Combining the two tales he had heard that afternoon, he posed the question they all now wanted to know.
“What do they want with The Dream World?”
“Firstly, they want to destroy us,” Sandman allowed himself a deep sigh. “We exist only for dreams, it’s all we do… but we do it well!” he added emphatically. “If they prevent sleep, there’ll be no more dreams, they’ll destroy us, we just won’t exist any more.”
“He told me that you were trying to lock everyone in a permanent nightmare,” Patrick finally admitted.
“No!” Sandman’s expression was one of horror. “It’s the other way around! He’s trying to stop sleep. Can you imagine what that would be like?”
“I think I’d go insane!” Joe admitted.
Sandman nodded enthusiastically. “You would! Then can you imagine the sort of dreams they’d be able to take from you once they allowed you to sleep again? I can stop them and I should have done it years ago… now they know I’m a threat to them and they’re trying to kill me.”
Patrick turned the business card given to him by Dr Benzedrine in his fingers. Reading it again seemed to give it an entirely different slant.
Doctor Silas P Benzedrine – Purveyor of natural stimulants to aid wakefulness and alertness
“And Dr Benzedrine?” he asked. “He’s the one that’ll keep people awake?”
Sandman nodded. “He’s been hired by The Guv’nor to come here and get you to help him.”
“Help him… how? What could we possibly do?”
“He’s a doctor, not just medicine,” Sandman explained. “My sources tell me that he’s developed a sort of hypnotic device. If played at the right frequency, it will bypass the brain’s sleep response. You physically won’t want to sleep and won’t be able to even if you tried. He needs you to help him get it out onto the airwaves.”
“But you can stop him?” Patrick asked.
“I think so.”
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