What Dreams May Come

Final Fantasy X

To die, to sleep –

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

 –Hamlet

You two are more than just dreams now.

Maybe you are the dream that will end our dreaming at last.

–Fayth

When Tidus dreams, he dreams of the sea.

It stretches before him, glimmering and smooth and impossibly infinite. He floats on his back, feeling skin (not golden enough) soaking up sun, and contemplates the sky that stretches above. He likes the feel of the water, cool and deep and blue and green. Sometimes, when things are absolutely still, not a breeze rippling the water, he thinks he can lie here forever, wrapped snugly within a density of brilliant blue.

There is, after all, just the sea, and nothing between him and the sky.

Then he remembers a snatch of verse, and a panorama of hazy night and dazzling lights blurs his vision.

A throbbing in the back of his mind, trying to whisper to him of something he can’t for the life of him recall. He ignores it, and submits himself instead to the whisper of the sea. It encases him, enfolding him within waves of mellow light and muted color, and then – there is bliss.

When Tidus wakes up, his cheeks are wet. He thinks for a wild moment that the wetness is from the ocean, but his tears are salty too, and he does not remember why he has been crying.

    

The day has broken clear and Tidus steps outside, stretching his arms. He sits down near the railing and dangles his legs, humming a tune that has come unbidden to his lips.

“What are you singing?” Auron is behind him suddenly, looking at him keenly.

Tidus shrugs, and then falters. “I don’t know. I – I think I heard it somewhere…once.”

There it is again, the feeling that there is something he should be remembering. Tidus shrugs off the distant throbbing, but even so there is a glimmer of something faraway in Auron’s eye.

“Shouldn’t you have eaten breakfast before you came out?” Auron clears his throat, nodding with disdain towards Tidus’s empty hands.

“I wasn’t hung-” Tidus begins to say, but when he looks down there is an apple in his hand, and he takes a bite out of it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I am.” He looks at Auron and grins. 

There is silence for a time, while Tidus finishes his apple and licks his fingers clean. He looks up at the sky, filled with wisps of bluish clouds and the vague cries of seagulls wheeling above. In the distance he can see the towering buildings of the city, ostentatious and opulent even in daylight. He looks around for water, but there is none to be seen. 

“Auron,” he says offhandedly. “Do you think Zanarkand could have been an ocean, long ago?”

He can tell Auron is taken aback by the question, blinking slowly and presenting Tidus with that inscrutable look whenever anything taboo has been said.

To Tidus’s surprise, Auron actually answers this time.

“Maybe once, long ago,” he says, and he too looks into the distance. “Or maybe it will be, a thousand years into the future.”

            When Yuna dreams, she dreams of Zanarkand.

            A metropolis of lights, a city of dreams; the glimmering spires tower above her, stretching to an infinity. It is all flashing gold and gleaming chrome, the throng and bustle of people going about their daily lives push her, shove her; surround her. She stands in the midst of it all, a space in the middle of the assault of noise and worries and wishes and hopes that permeates her right to the soul, and she is thrilled by the pulse of life racing by.

It is everything she’s ever imagined and more, and she thinks she could live here forever, caught up in the frenzy and excitement of (truly) living. 

            There is the whole world between her and the sky, and so little time to do all that she wants to.

            Amid the flurry and tumult of a thousand lives she is plagued by something: a far-flung memory of a stretch of white beach, of light playing upon sky and water. 

            It was long ago, she tells herself. A memory she shouldn’t be remembering. Because I am happy here.

            (But not without him.)

            She cries out sharply, because she has almost forgotten him, and that in itself is unthinkable, an unforgivable sin. A flash of blue eyes and sandy hair, lost within the soaring spires of her city, and she finds she has woken up, arms and legs tangled in a web of blankets.

            Lulu is there, murmuring in soothing tones and smoothing her hair back with a cool palm. Yuna lies back, taking deep steadying breaths.

            “Nightmare, darling?” Lulu’s voice is quiet and gentle, cadence of the earth and sea. 

            “No.” Yuna’s voice is small in comparison, and she shuts her eyes tightly, wishing with all her heart for something (what?) she doesn’t even understand.

            Lulu is silent, and her tender caress begins to lull Yuna back into sleep.

            “Lulu,” Yuna sighs sleepily. “Do you remember him?”

            “Who?” There is no recognition within the dark depths of Lulu’s eyes, and her voice sounds puzzled.

            “I – I don’t know.” Yuna sits upright, trying to grasp onto a sliver of light within her mind, even though it has already slipped away, as quiet as a breath of wind.

“I can’t remember,” she whispers sadly, and Lulu wipes a tear from her cheek.

            “Don’t cry, my darling.”

            But Yuna still weeps, for a memory she has forgotten, and for a boy she cannot remember to forget. 

            Lulu kisses her forehead. “Come, it is morning.”

            Yuna looks out the window and sees the ocean, calm and tranquil, sunlight dancing across the water.

            It is everywhere, this world of water.

And in the end, there is always the sea.

           

There is a game tonight, so Tidus spends the late afternoon warming up, going through the familiar routine of exercises to limber his muscles, getting ready to blitz. When the sun begins its descent Tidus decides it is almost time to leave and he packs his gear.

            Auron walks through the door just as he finishes tying his shoes.

            “You know,” Tidus remarks, without looking up. “It’s almost uncanny sometimes, the way you can pop out of nowhere and come waltzing in.”

            Auron’s lip twitches, which is as close to smiling as Tidus has ever seen him. “Good of you to notice.”

            Tidus laughs. “Bad timing, though. I’m just about to leave. You coming to the game this time?”

            Auron strides past Tidus into the kitchen area, acting as if he hasn’t heard. “You eaten yet?”

            Sometimes Tidus hates the way Auron mothers him, always asking about something or other. Another part of him appreciates the fact, knowing there has been no one to keep an eye on him since his mother died so long ago, and at least this way he knows that Auron cares enough about him to ask. Either that or it was just the guy’s strange way of making conversation.

            “Yeah,” Tidus replies, pulling on his jersey. “I ate leftovers from the fridge. There’s still some more, want some?”

            Auron opens the refrigerator door and looks critically at the empty whiteness. “There’s nothing in here.”

            Perplexed, Tidus walks over and yanks open the fridge door. “What are you talking about, Auron? I stocked it with food yesterday. See?”

            “Ah.” Auron glances in and unexpectedly he smiles, teeth flashing. “Sorry. Must’ve escaped my notice.”

            “So, about my game. You coming or not?”

            Auron glances at Tidus before taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “What team you playing for again?”

“Geez Auron, how many times have you got to ask? Maybe if you actually came to a game once in a while,” Tidus sighs in exasperation. “Star player of the Zanarkand Abes.” He points proudly to the logo emblazoned across his jersey. “Though I’m getting kinda nervous about today’s game. We’re playing the Magiks, and we’ve never gone up against them before.”

            Auron lets out a snort, which makes Tidus glance at him sharply.

            “What?”

            “You – nervous? You’ve never lost a game here.”

            Tidus frowns thoughtfully. “That’s true, but still…”

            Auron clears his throat pointedly and changes the subject. “Playing in that confounded stadium – might as well play in the sea, full of water as it is.” 

            “Yeah, but sea water’s too murky, I guess, so you can’t see what’s going on underwater. Plus, the sea’s too salty, anyway, which would make it too buoyant, and what happens if you accidentally swallow too much of it, that wouldn’t be good – ”

            Auron is silent now, staring at Tidus with an indiscernible expression. Something about his (too sharp) glance makes Tidus uncomfortable. So he shifts around, bends down to tie his laces only to remember he has already tied them and straightens up again.

             “Tidus,” Auron says carefully. “It’s funny how you keep mentioning the sea, telling me so much about it, when you don’t even know what it is.”        

            Tidus can only sputter. “What?”

            “You’ve never seen the sea before,” Auron explains smoothly. “How can you? Zanarkand is nowhere near the sea, and this is the only place you’ve ever lived. In fact, the blitzball stadium is the only place here where there’s ever been a concentration of water. I don’t even know where the rest of Zanarkand gets its water from.”

              Something tickles the back of Tidus’s mind. Incoherent; a faint prickling, an incessant reminder.

            “I know what the sea is,” he says indignantly. “How can I not know what it is?”

Auron shrugs. “Your dreams – ”

Tidus doesn’t bother to question how Auron knows about his dreams. It’s simply Auron, with his uncanny ability to know strange things and show up at odd times. Even so, he feels curiously affronted.  “How do I know so much about the sea, then? I must’ve seen it somewhere. I mean, look at the seagulls flying around here – ”

“Tidus, there are no seagulls here.” Auron looks at him impatiently. “The only birds around here are pigeons, roosting in the nooks of buildings.”

Once he’s thought about it, Tidus realizes it’s true. Strange, he thinks. I could’ve sworn I heard earlier this morning…

“It’s not only the sea,” Auron goes on. “Don’t you notice anything about Zanarkand?”

Tidus gives Auron a blank look.

“Like your blitzball. Like how you’ve never lost a single game in all the time you’ve been playing. Like how you can’t lose.” 

“We practice a lot. We’re really good.” Tidus replies, but it is halfhearted, because something about Auron’s words is really bothering him.

Auron is losing his temper. “What about your team, then – the Zanarkand Abes. You practice with them every day, yet you don’t even know their names.”

Tidus has a ready retort on his tongue, but strangely enough, it won’t come out. Of course he knows their names. Doesn’t he? How can he not? But wait, how did he even get on the team in the first place?

The throbbing is back in more intensity. His thoughts are jumbled in the back of his head and try as he might he can’t seem to straighten them out. Despite this, there is something about Auron’s voice, a patronizing undertone, that irks Tidus to no end.

            “All right then, explain this. If I don’t even know what the ocean is, why is it so real in my dreams?” He looks Auron in the eye, challenging.

            “Because,” Auron says slowly, deliberately. “Maybe they are real.”

            Tidus can only gape. “What are you going off about now, old man?”

            There is an uncomfortable silence for a while.

“My mistake. I should never have brought this up. You’re not ready to hear this.” Auron pushes up his sunglasses and his demeanor is suddenly back to being cold and withdrawn. “I apologize. I suppose I was getting tired, waiting for you.”

            “Waiting for me to…what?”

            Auron smiles for no apparent reason. “To remember how to whistle.”

            “But Yuna…” Tidus begins.

“Who?” There is a glitter in Auron’s good eye, gone as quickly as it appeared.

Tidus stops, momentarily disoriented. “I thought…never mind.”

He picks up his bag, noting with uncertainty that his hand is shaky, and motions to the door. “I-I should be going. Game’s about to start an’ all…”

Just as Tidus is walking out the door Auron fixes him with an unwavering stare. “You’re forgetting something, Tidus.”

            It washes over him now, this relentless pounding. Like the up-down pull of the current, almost, and a wave of cerulean nostalgia washes over him, tugging at the corners of his mind.

            (never forget them.

 if we get separated, just whistle, and i’ll come running. 

my story.               this is my story.          my story             my  story    m   y   s   t   o   r   y  )

            Tidus shakes his head clear and looks at Auron, who inclines his head towards Tidus’s feet and says by way of goodbye, “Your shoes. You forgot to tie them.”

            Tidus’s eyes reflect his confusion but he bends down anyway. “Oh. Right.”

            He ties his shoes and walks out the door into the hazy Zanarkand night.

           

            The sun is already high in the sky by the time Yuna decides to get dressed and step outside. The Bevelle afternoon is hot and muggy, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She thinks about her home in Besaid, missing the clear, deliciously sunny weather spent under palms and on sandy beaches. She wonders when she will see her island again.

            The people she passes by on the streets stop and bow reverently, their arms circling in the familiar gesture of prayer. 

            “Summoner,” they murmur in homage. “Liberator.”

            Every day the same thing, and Yuna only grows more bewildered. I’m not a summoner, not anymore, she wants to shout. Don’t call me that! And it wasn’t me, responsible for freeing you. There is still Sin among us, I have done nothing –

            Because I have forgotten his name.

            She feels like crying all of a sudden, the dry sobs sticking in her throat, but instead she swallows and smiles at the strangers gathered around her, gracious and charming. She touches hands and ruffles little girls’ hair, then disengages herself from the throng and continues on her way. She looks around her at the flat-roofed buildings, and strangely enough thinks they should be higher, stretching up to the heavens. Lit from inside by incandescent stars, brighter than fire itself, framed against a backdrop of swirling midnight sky.   

            Crazy, she calls herself. Where are you getting your ideas? Spira has never seen such things; it has no room for such extravagance.

            At the edge of the city she perches in a corner of the harbor, looking out at the vast expanse of glittering sea.  

            There is a little boy standing at the end of the pier, staring at her. Snub nose, rich olive skin; she beckons him over and smiles at him.

            “Hello,” she says. “What’s your name?” Her smile falters when the thought occurs to her that she should recognize him, a figure from a distant past (future) whose face is obscured within the depths of her memory. She should, but she can’t.

            “I have had many names in a thousand years,” he replies, and his voice is dusty with age and weariness, harshly incongruous to a boy of such youth.                       “It’s you.” Her breath catches in sudden, clear understanding. “Bahamut. Dragon Lord.” Her voice escapes as a whisper.

            “A gift in a dream.” He says simply. “Long ago.”

            Confusion shrouds Yuna’s features. “You – you shouldn’t be here. How can – ?”

            “You saved the world.”         

            “Maybe,” Yuna looks down at her hands. “Or Spira wouldn’t be like this. I just don’t understand how. Or why.”

            “I shouldn’t be here because the dreaming has ended.” He searches her face, the darkness of his eyes hidden and veiled. “Or has it?”

            Her head moves with a dejected shake. “I don’t know. My dreams…”

            “What do you dream about, summoner, daughter of Braska?”

            She starts at the title, but realizes in a moment that it is her, and who she is. “A city of lights,” she begins. “I dream of my city. And – I dream of him.”

            “Who?” The question is innocent, but there is another unspoken question in his eyes, and she refuses to meet it.

            “I don’t know.” Her laugh is bitter and acrid in her throat. “Never forget them. I promised. Only I can’t remember who, or what. But I can remember him.”   

            He smiles at her, but in it she can see the heartbreak of a thousand worlds. “Only a dream,” he says to her. “A dream within a dream. Are you dreaming, Yuna? Or am I? Is he?”

            It surprises her to find herself crying, and she can taste the salt of her tears, burning her mouth. Like the sea. Like the taste of him, warm and hard and real under her fingertips.

            She looks down to see the boy gently touching her hand. “Do you dream of happiness, Yuna?”

            “Yes,” she replies. “But there is no happiness here.” 

The little boy stares at her, but this time there is light behind his eyes. “Would you like to see him?”

The sky swirls above her, and in a moment of startling clarity Yuna spreads her arms. “Yes. Please,” she whispers. “Take me to him.”

The world tilts. Smooth olive skin and snub nose have disappeared, melding and shifting into liquid steel; flashing talons and roaring feathers, brushing across the fabric of worlds.  

“Come.”

Yuna closes her eyes and throws herself forward.

Beneath her tightly shut eyelids she can see the sea and the sky; and wings and scales of a thousand colors.

After the game, Tidus sits in the stands, watching the workers empty the sphere pool. It is late, and the lights of the city shine brilliantly, bathing everything in a warm yellow glow. The stands are almost empty now, and Tidus leans back on his elbows, marveling at the way the water in the pool seemed to drain into…nowhere.

            Perhaps Auron has a point, however whacked the guy seemed to be today. They had won, again, and Tidus hadn’t even played all that well.

            He tilts his head to look at the sky, lost in thought. When he turns his gaze around, he catches sight of her, standing a little bit away, stars in her hair.

            Her eyes meet his, and before he registers what is happening, she is running and has thrown herself into his arms. She smells just like he remembers, lilacs and the fresh breeze rippling over the sea.                         

“Tidus,” she says his name clearly, and then repeats it softly, over and over again, imprinting it upon her heart. “Tidus.”

The sudden understanding that overtakes him is unexpected, sending him reeling, gasping for breath. He tightens his hold on her, and his eyes trace her face, drinking in every feature.   

She touches his face in wonder. “You’re real,” she marvels.

            “This is real,” he says, and kisses her, soft and sweet and tender, and he never wants to let go.

            When they finally break away, Yuna looks around her at the illuminated sphere pool and the glimmering lights of the city. “Zanarkand,” she breathes. Then she turns to him, grinning. “I’ve heard in Zanarkand, there is a great stadium, all lit up even at night. Great blitzball tournaments are held there, and the stands are always full.”

            Tidus grins back. “You just missed the show. But here we are in Zanarkand, the place you’ve always wanted to see.”

            “Let’s just stay here,” Yuna says.

            They sit there through the night, her wrapped within the circle of his arms and him breathing against the crook of her neck. When the sky begins to lighten Tidus rouses himself. 

            “Yuna,” he tells her quietly. “It’s time.”

            “Hm?” she murmurs sleepily. “Time for what?”  

            Her arm brushes against his and for a moment he is reminded of the ocean, shimmering blue underneath an endless sky. Tidus doesn’t understand why he is suddenly feeling sad until he realizes just where they are. 

            “Come on,” he smiles at Yuna. “It’s time to wake up now.”

            She looks at him in bafflement until sudden comprehension dawns. “Your dream…” she whispers.

            “No.” Tidus runs a gentle finger down her nose, across the slope of her chin. “Ours.”

            He lifts his hands and they shimmer with luminous color, translucent orbs of memory wrapping around him in glimmering coolness. The first rays of the rising sun touch the earth, and his hand slides through hers, leaving her grasping empty air.

            “Tidus,” Yuna cries. “Don’t leave me.”

            “I won’t.” His promise is a fading sigh, and Yuna watches as Tidus closes his eyes and lets himself go.  

            She stands there, hugging emptiness, and her tears shatter upon the ground.     

             

            Yuna wakes up in a tangle of blankets, chest heaving for breath. Her cheeks are wet, only this time she can remember why she has been crying.

            Lulu is there by her side, stroking her hair with a cool palm. She murmurs in soothing tones, “Nightmare, darling?”

            “No,” Yuna says, and her voice is clear and strong. “Lulu,” she asks. “Do you remember him?”

            Lulu’s eyes are dark and betray her surprise. “Of course.” Her face is pained and reflects something faraway. “How…could I not?”

            Yuna smiles quietly, and leans over to hug Lulu when she sees the older woman’s worried expression. “Thank you,” Yuna whispers, and kisses Lulu’s cheek. “Everything is okay.”

            With clumsy fingers Yuna pulls on her clothes and runs outside in bare feet. The sun is shining brightly, dancing across the gently swaying waves of the sea. On the wooden pier in front of the cottage, she breathes in the fresh air and throws out her arms, whirling in inexplicable delight. When she stops, she steps to the edge of the pier and places two fingers inside her mouth. The whistle that floats out over the air is sweet and unmistakable, and she doesn’t stop until Lulu begins to call her inside.

            She takes one last glance at the open sea, smooth and glittering as always, before she steps inside.

            Where Tidus is there is only the warmth of sunshine and the welcoming embrace of blue-green depths. The sea calls to him, and he floats on his back, listening to the song it sings and the laughter rolling through its lapping waves. His eyes are closed, and the liquid sunlight playing across the breakers create patterns across his eyelids, submerging him in contented bliss. When his eyes open unexpectedly they are full of the hope of a thousand lifetimes over the course of a thousand years and laughter bubbles out of him. He stretches out his arms and legs and pushes through the yielding blueness towards the sunlight dappling the waters above his head. He leaves a translucent trail in his wake, tinted with the dreams of eons.  

           

            In the end, there is only the sea and the sky.

A/N: What is real? What is a dream? You decide. My only hope is that it made some kind of sense for you, no matter how warped or nonsensical. Of course, having played the game might just help. On a side tidbit, the lil’ ‘shattered tears’ image was taken shamelessly by me from muru’s work. Phrase is too pretty, and fit too perfectly not to be used. What would I do without you, muruchan?