NINE

 

The stranger stood there quietly, looking serenely patient and giving the Ghostbusters all the time they needed to get a good look at him. He stood about Egon’s height, long and slender with chalk‑white skin and bushy ebony hair that sprang out in every direction from his angular face—a long, bony nose setting off the shadows which covered his eyes. His hands were shaved inside the pockets of his heavy black leather coat; though the air around them was still, a mischievous breeze darted around the stranger, causing the folds of his coat to rustle noisily.

“Hullo.”

And now he was slightly shorter and stockier, his hair soft and smooth as silk, his three‑piece suit immaculately tailored. His features shifted and drifted across the canvas of his body, as elusive to pin down as the details of a dream. One moment he bore the dignity and grandeur of a god; the next second he looked all too pitifully human.

And still ... he simply stood there, waiting.

Egon slowly rose from his crouch beside Janine’s body. Eyes never leaving the stranger, he instinctively reached to his side and grasped his PKE meter.

“Ray?” Winston whispered from where he, Peter and Stantz stood. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m not sure...”

Spengler activated the meter and pointed it at the man, who stood there and permitted the indignity with good humor. The arms of the device shot out with such violent force that they actually snapped off and went flying in opposite directions; the meter itself bleated pitifully once and promptly exploded.

“Uh‑oh,” said Ray.

“Let me guess,” Peter offered. “We’re in even bigger trouble than before.”

“Not necessarily,” Egon replied over his shoulder. He took a step towards the stranger. “You’re one of Them, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “That, Egon Spengler, would depend on to whom you refer as ‘Them’.”

“You’re one of ‘The Endless’. Morpheus, to be precise.”

“I have been called that in times past,” he nodded amiably.

“Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy...” Ray repeated stupidly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shocked awe.

“Ray, just who is this guy?” Peter whispered, his eyes never leaving the scene being played out before them.

“He’s Morpheus,” Stantz whispered, as if that one fact should have made everything crystal clear to his friends.

“Ray, he’s already told us that,” Winston hissed. “Anything else you want to share with us, man?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ray nodded absently. “Well, he’s one of the Endless...

“Endless what? Endlessly weird?”

Ray turned around abruptly, eyes wide with fear. “Don’t say that, Pete! Not where he can hear you! Don’t you understand? He’s beyond anything we’ve ever faced before! Greater than Samhain, even greater than Gozer!!!!”

“Hides it well,” Peter admitted with a shrug.

“I believe we have some business to complete,” Morpheus said casually. He tossed a hand into the air, and at that moment the trap containing the Ghostbuster’s foe exploded. The Sandman shot skyward, screeching in triumph as he rose from the smoking ruins. He gripped his pipe with one hand, his bag of sand with the other, and prepared to load a salvo of dream dust.

Then he saw Morpheus. And froze.

Morpheus cocked his head in marginal interest. “I have been looking for you.”

For the first time ever, the Ghostbusters saw the Sandman hesitate and tremble. “My Lord,” he spoke in a quavering voice.

Awe ... respect ... and more than a little fear ... began to fill the Ghostbusters’ hearts.

“Ray,”  Peter whispered. “I know I really don’t wanna know this ... but just who the hell is this guy?”

“It’s hard to say,” Stantz answered, his voice quavering. “Some say he’s the Master of Dreams. Others say he’s the actual personification of dreams. And there are one or two schools of thought that believe...”

“Ray,” Peter said, grabbing his friend’s shoulder. “Reader’s Digest version, okay?”

“Okay.” Ray took a deep breath and pointed at their old foe. “Everything he claimed to be...” Now he pointed at Morpheus. “He really is.”

“Uh‑oh,” Winston muttered.

“Little servant,” Morpheus was saying in a calm voice that nonetheless tolerated no dissent, “you stole a portion of what is mine. I would have it back ... now.”

With a furious, frantic motion, the Sandman untied his pouch of dust from around his waist and threw it to Morpheus, who casually reached out and snagged it without the slightest effort. His other hand pulled out a similar‑looking bag; with deceptive care he poured the contents of the Sandman’s bag into his own, then looked up at the terrified creature.

“You have done enough harm here. It is time to return to the Dream World.”

“But...but Lord Morpheus!” the Sandman pleaded, tumbling to the ground and crawling up to his master’s feet. “These mortals are blind—they actively seek to destroy this world! And without them, there can be no dreaming! Have I not      done well? Have I not given you a veritable cornucopia of dreams to rule? And there are so many more to come—five hundred years of dreaming, all for you! Master, are        you not pleased?”

 

“Not really.” He reached out with one hand and with almost tender care touched the Sandman’s shoulder. “You have disturbed the natural balance of things. You have thwarted the work of my brothers and sisters, and they are not pleased about this. Dreams are but one facet of these creatures’ lives.” He almost seemed to smile for a moment. “Man cannot live by dreams alone. Enough is enough. It is time to return to where you belong.”

“Brothers and sisters?” Winston whispered to Ray.

“Destiny, Death, Despair, Desire, Delirium, and one I can never remember,” Ray replied.

“I’d hate to see their family reunions,” Peter muttered; Ray winced and motioned for Peter to shush.

Morpheus squeezed his hand tightly; the creature cried out as his form shifted and glittered in the fading sunlight, then collapsed into a small pile of sand. A whispery breeze sailed in from out of nowhere and lifted every grain of sand from the ground and carried them into the waiting pouch.

Nodding in satisfaction, Morpheus shut the bag, returned it to his coat, then turned to Spengler. “I apologize for any inconvenience.”

Ray looked around uncertainly, then stepped forward. “I apologize for seeming to be ungrateful, sir,” he said respectfully, “but ... well, everyone’s still asleep.”

Egon winced and glanced behind him, where Janine lay unmoving. Then he turned to face Morpheus again.

“She was hit with an overdose of your dream sand.”

Morpheus walked over to where she lay; Winston and Peter backed off to a more respectful distance. For the longest time he did nothing but stare at her pale, peaceful form…or perhaps at something else, beyond the Ghostbusters’ sight but not his. At long last he looked up and nodded at Egon.

“I can do nothing for her.”

Ray tried to grab Egon as he lunged forward, but Spengler was too quick for him. “But you have to!” he cried, screaming into the stranger’s face. “You’re the Lord of Dreams! It was your servant who did this to her! It’s your fault, damn you!” It took the combined efforts of all three men to pull him away as he yelled.

Morpheus merely regarded Egon with detached interest. “As I said, I can do nothing for her. But you can, Egon Spengler.”

“Say what?” Winston gaped.

“Me?” Egon stood frozen with disbelief. “But I’m mortal. I don’t have any special powers!”

“She dreams, Egon Spengler. She dreams of a fantasy love she feels she can never attain in reality. My minion did his job well. She is so tightly entwined in her perfect dream that she does not want to return. You must convince her to do so.”

“Convince her?”

“Geez,” Peter shook his head, “this sounds like some corny fairy tale.”

“Fairy tale,” Ray echoed, then his face brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Egon! That’s it!”

“C’mon, Ray, spill it out for the rest of us,” Peter urged grumpily.

Stantz grabbed Egon’s shoulders and grinned. “Egon—this is just like ‘Sleeping Beauty’! Don’t you see? The only way Janine’s going to want to come back is if you show her that you love her!”

“Tough call,” Winston commented. “Seeing as she’s asleep and he’s…awake…” A big grin spread on his face. “Ahhh.”

From nearby, Morpheus nodded in satisfaction.

“And how,” Peter chuckled, “did the Prince awaken the Princess?”

“With ... a kiss...” Realization slowly filled Egon’s features; he trembled slightly, then took a deep breath and went over to where Janine lay.

“Guys, this is kinda like a private moment...” Ray urged.

“Hell no,” Peter retorted. “This is a Kodak moment!”

Egon looked down tenderly at her soft, pale features; his hand moved on its own volition and gently caressed her cheek. Fingertips traced the fullness of her red lips, then dipped under her chin. The rest of the world melted away as he bent down and kissed her with a passion and intensity that left no doubt as to his feelings for the fiery redhead.

For long moments, there was no reaction; then a slender, feminine arm rose from the ground and languidly wrapped itself around his neck, followed seconds later by the other arm.

“Hot damn,” chuckled Winston.

“Ain’t love grand?” said Peter to the sleeping world. Then he looked around, and listened. Silence still reigned in New York City.

Reluctantly, Egon pulled away from a smiling Janine. “Not bad,” she sighed, letting his movement help her into a sitting position. “You can wake me up like that any time you want, Egon…” She saw the pale stranger standing nearby, regarding her as though she were an exhibit in a laboratory. “Let me guess,” she murmured to Egon. “More major weirdness?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.”

Egon helped her to her feet, then turned to face Morpheus. “Thank you.”

“I did nothing, Egan Spengler. You persuaded her to return.”

“And how,” Janine smiled from behind Spengler.

“But what about the rest of the world?” Ray asked. “And how long has everyone been asleep? How do we explain that? How can we?”

“There is nothing to explain,” Morpheus smiled. “Nothing has happened at all.”

“Uh‑oh,” Peter said. “Here comes a really complicated solution.”

“My power, wrongly used, created this problem.” Morpheus retrieved his bag of sand. “It will also provide the solution.” He reached into the bag and extracted a handful of golden grains that sparkled brightly in the dusk. “When you awaken, all will be as it was...as it should be.”

“Everything?” Winston asked. “What about Samhain?”

The smile on Morpheus’s face slipped away. “That is something I can do nothing about, Winston Zeddemore. You and he are meant to do battle once again in the future. He must remain at large so that this might come about.”

“But Samhain’s too dangerous to be kept out of the containment!” Egon shouted. “You can’t do this! You can’t! You ... “

With a long pass of his hand, Morpheus threw his sand into the air. The Ghostbusters froze as grains drifted into their eyes, then began to yawn and slide languidly to the ground. Janine smiled and snuggled up against Egon as sleep overwhelmed her senses. Within moments all five of them were sound asleep.

Morpheus smiled and watched the breeze catch his sand and carry it into the night. From each glittering grain emerged creatures of all shapes and sizes, which scurried about into the night and set to work on restoring the world as it had been before the renegade had put it to sleep. Several of them carried the somnambulant Ghostbusters into the firehouse and to their beds. Their master nodded in satisfaction, then let the evening wind glide into his coat and lift him into the sky.

“Sleep well, my friends,” he said in benediction. “And remember ... it was only a dream…”