FicWad

Standing at the tunnel mouth, Dr Benzedrine looked from left to right. It had been centuries since he’d last ventured into the Dream World but nothing seemed to have changed, except possibly it was a little darker than he remembered. It wasn’t his area of expertise, but he knew it wasn’t necessary for dreams to be created at night and, as such, he had often wondered why Mr Sandman insisted upon keeping the Dream World in a permanent state of darkness. Perhaps it suited his style, perhaps he had a flair for the melodramatic or perhaps he had simply gone insane? To Dr Benzedrine, it seemed all too likely and was the only way to explain Mr Sandman’s bizarre make up.

Looking behind him, down the long tunnel to The Hills, he couldn’t even see his beloved home district; the colourful buildings and fairground-style gaudiness were far from view. Already, even without taking another step, he was homesick and more than a little nervous. Yes, he was endowed with certain powers, some of which Patrick had experienced during his encounter with him, but here in the Dream World, he had none. Likewise, in The Hills, Mr Sandman’s dreams and illusions were ineffective. It had been a precaution designed to keep them apart. Without use of their powers, neither was likely to enter the other’s district for fear that they couldn’t protect themselves against the other.

A competitive edge had started between the two brothers in boyhood. Back then it had been healthy rivalry, but had quickly grown into something more sinister. As men, the constant feuding and fighting had given rise to the pair needing to be separated for their own safety. The necessary but unpleasant task was reluctantly undertaken by their father, ruler of The Hills, known to most as The Guv’nor, but to his wife, Eleanor, as Joshua.

The Guv’nor had tried to make the best of a bad situation by giving them jobs that required them to work in a complementary way, one sending the world to sleep and the other waking it. It had seemed the ideal solution; they would not be in each other’s way or need to compete on any level. But such was their deep mistrust of each other, they found different things to argue over. The main cause of their fighting had become their father. Joshua had decided to grant the position of Mr Sandman to his eldest son. It would require taking control of the Dream World and organising a battery of dream weavers and spinners. The position should have been considered a declaration of trust, an honour, but Marcus J Sandman, as he became, saw it only as banishment from his father’s side. The fact that Silas P Benzedrine, the favourite son, the son he had never been, had been kept close by in The Hills and had studied to become a doctor like their father only seemed to confirm his suspicions. Jealous and bitter, Mr Sandman had hidden himself away in the Dream World. The dreams he personally weaved grew ever more outlandish over the decades until he found a way to affect the real world finally making a connection with his real-life counterpart, Pete Wentz; spinning dreams for him that would eventually become lyrics.

Now, Dr Benzedrine stood at the entrance to the Dream World knowing only that his brother had taken both Patrick and someone called Pete. He had to find them. If he rescued them, Mr H Shoe Crab, The Luckiest Man In The World would reward him with some luck of his own. It was the sort of thing you only dreamed about. Nobody ever met Mr Crab; it was forbidden to even use the ‘L’ word and yet, not only had he seen him, he had spoken to him, he had promised him some luck. A dream come true! What was his dream? He wanted, more than anything, if it were even remotely possible, a good relationship with his brother. He sighed heavily as he thought about it. He had been pushed to the limit, his patience stretched to the point that all he wanted was to be rid of his brother. But if the option were there, what he really wanted was for the situation to be resolved. With luck, he could have that.

With grim determination, Benzedrine set out down the dark path.

*

“What do you need me to do?” Pete asked flatly.
“You’re willing to help?” The Guv’nor asked with some surprise.

Pete leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped together and his eyes firmly fixed on his fingers, staring intently as if they may do something exciting at any moment.

“It’s in my own interests to help you, well, sort of,” Pete paused. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a little worried about the word ‘bait’, but there’s not much I can do, is there? You can make me do whatever you want, I might as well do it willingly. At least then I’ve got a certain amount of freedom.”
“You get your words confused,” The Guv’nor commented. “You mean free will, not freedom.”

Pete took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt deflated and miserable; this man certainly knew how to crush him.

“Just tell me one thing,” Pete began. “When you’ve got them back, will you let me go? And I don’t just mean, don’t keep me here, I mean go back home.”
“Yes, I will aid your return, you and your friend, Patrick,” The Guv’nor replied kindly.
“Patrick?” Pete’s eyes widened. “He’s here? How? When? Where?”
“He’s in Carousel,” The Guv’nor waved his hands in an attempt to calm Pete’s reaction to the news. “He’s not in The Hills.”
“Well, where?” Pete pressed.
“Mr Sandman has him in the Dream World, I understand he’s being looked after.”
“And you’ll get us both back home?”
“Yes, I promise,” The Guv’nor replied sincerely. “Provided I get what I want.”
“Your sons,” Pete nodded thoughtfully. “What do you need from me?”

“My Aide will take you for a press conference, you will pretend to be Mr Sandman, it will get his attention.”
“What do I say?” Pete asked concerned.
“I have it all written out, just follow the script.”
“What if they ask something unexpected?”
“They won’t,” The Guv’nor smiled. “It’s for one of my magazines. It’s all scripted.”
“Okay.”

Pete exhaled deeply, turning to see The Guv’nor’s Aide standing in the doorway signalling to him. Turning, Pete followed him out leaving The Guv’nor and his wife Eleanor alone in the room. Gently placing an arm around her slender waist, The Guv’nor sighed wistfully.

“The boys will be home soon, my dear, I promise.”