Comments: This is Aya’s dream. It’s pretty weird, and turned out a lot different than I mean it too, so in a way it kinda acts like a real dream, going off in different direction for no apparent reason. For those who are reading this without having read any of my other stuff let me tell you that in the universe this fic belongs to Ken and Aya are together, shounen-ai style. If you want to know how that happened go read ‘The Saga Begins’ (obviously also by me…). In the meantime enjoy Aya’s cracked out dream for all it’s rather cheesy goodness. I promise, I didn’t intend for it to be this cheesy. Oh well. R&R or else I will send elephants to your house to stampple you!

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I stand alone. I am everything. I expand and contract around the universe. I watch myself as I stand alone in a field of tall grass. I feel the endless wind that whips over my body. I am the loneliest sound that echoes through my ears. The sound of a million windmills churning in the wind, the hollow, empty moaning… that is me.

I wear white. I watch myself turn and gaze out over the world. Bent trees, bowed over by the ceaseless, driving wind. Are they I as well? I see, extending into the distance, row upon row, sentinels, windmills groaning, their thin white stalks bleeding grease. Three mounted blades whistle through the endlessly blue sky. Clouds streak across the void, driven by the wind. I walk.

The ground is not dry. The grass is not real; it grows upon mud. This mud is me, it grips my feet, pulling me downwards. I watch myself plod onwards. What am I walking towards? The lonely sound that is myself, that is my goal.

Red seeps into the hem of my white clothing, it soaks slowly upwards. It passes my knee. I notice. The I that walks, not the I that watches. I touch the spreading stain and my fingers come away darkened. I smell them. They smell like blood. I am the blood. I am the grasping hands that strain from the earth and clasp my ankles. They pull me down into themselves. Terror. I am… terrified. I can make no sound save that of the windmills.

I cry in fear. I do not want to die. I do not want to be pulled into the earth by these angry fingers. And yet… if I am they and they are I then how can I fear them? Why do I fear myself and the blood of my own? Should I not become one with them, share of myself and be at peace?

I try to be calm, but still I weep in fear. I am willing, but so afraid. Please… do not punish me. I will be good.

Hands on my face. Soft hands, dry hands, small hands. These hands are not mine. They are other. I raise my head. It is a child. It is All Children. All who have been children. Aya-chan, Ken, Omi, Youji, Manx, Takatori, Persia, Crawford, the children in the park, our customers, the people we have killed all have been children. All have been… all… all… all. They are this child. This child that touches my face, which is not of me, and leans close to whisper, “I will show you a secret.”

It takes my hand. The earth releases me. It does not mourn. We run, our feet are light. The child is fast, so sure of it’s path, but I stumble. I am pulled along, I cannot rest. We fly through rows and rows of spinning metal machines. They pass so quickly. The hollow, empty groaning fills me with an aching. I want to beg the child to stop, to let me rest, but I cannot find my voice. It is lost in the sound.

We stop. The earth melts away from us. We stand on a cliff, staring into blue water. An endless sea, bluer than the sky, clearer than glass. We kneel at the edge. The child points into the water below. I can see everything beneath the surface. I watch the waves crash against the cliff face. I feel myself roll as the water, stretching myself as the ocean. Again I am everything.

“Baptism awaits you. Be clean at the hands of….” The child does not finish its remark. Sickening, twisting metal, the horrible sound makes me turn. All of the windmills are falling. They buckle and groan as they fall towards the earth. The child turns and stands away from me, in the path of a falling metal pillar. I cannot move to save it. All the Children are destroyed. I could not save the children of the world.

I stand; I stumble backwards and fall into space. I am caught in the arms of the ocean. I am rocked. The sounds die away beneath the water. I will drown here. I am not afraid of the water. I breathe. I open my eyes. I am made clean. The currents take me as they will. I settle to the sea floor. It is so warm here.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” a voice whispers to me.

I open my eyes. A young man floats before me. He is not me. He has dark hair and dark eyes. I know him. I love him. He smiles at me and I touch his face. He touches mine in return.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“I am the ocean.”

“You caught me when I fell,” I whisper.

“I will always catch you. Are you not happy here in my arms? It’s peaceful. Stay in the warmth of my waters,” he says gently, brushing his lips against mine, taking me in his arms, and holding against his living body. We drift on the currents, embracing.

“But I let All the Children die,” I say at length.

“No. They chose to die. All children must die to continue living. Children cannot be children forever.”

“What will happen if I stay here?”

“Nothing. You will be safe in my arms, I will care for you, I will love you, and we two shall remain clean. Always,” he answers. Our bodies touch without friction. I want to be the ocean.

“But I must find All the Children again. They have something to tell me.”

He pulls away. The waters become cold around me. Where has the sound gone? His sad eyes assail me. I sink before him; the waters pull me down. “You would leave me?”

“I will come back.”

“Never.”

“You are not real.”

He weeps and fades. There is no more water. The ocean is empty. The sky is red, and the clouds are dark. I fall to my knees. I did not want this. I watch myself call his name. He will return no more. I am alone. No one will catch me now.

I run away. I run across the barren ocean floor. It is dry and cracked. It is me.

I am the earth. Ken is the ocean, he catches me in warmth, and gives me life. I am barren without him. I must know the secret of All the Children. When I find them, he will return to me. He will be real.

I come to a shore. I breathe the air. There is no life. Ruins, all is ruins. In the distance I see the field, the windmills. Do I hear them creak and groan? Can I be the sound again? The wind takes me away. Arms beneath my arms. I am the wind.

“You are not the wind. I am the wind. I am the sky. I cannot catch you, I cannot make you blossom with life and cradle you in my arms, I cannot do these things. But I can help you and push you from behind. I can challenge your strength and lift you above the world,” a voice says in my ear. I look back into eyes as blue and endless as the sky.

“It’s you,” I say.

He smiles. “Yes it is me. Am I not light and airy? I am the wind. Will you let me help you?”

“I will. Thank you.”

He takes me to the field and leaves me there. He hisses through the grass and whistles in my ears. He is gone, but the wind remains.

I am the earth. Ken is the ocean, he catches me in warmth, and gives me life. Omi is the sky, he shines above me, and lifts me upwards.

These are not windmills. They are crucifixes. Rows and rows of crosses march into the red sky. They moan and creak, wooden. This is not where All the Children are. It cannot be. The crosses lean in. I run though them, but they block my path. They spread out; I cannot find the end.

Fire flies from my feet. I am the earth. I expand and contract around the universe. I am everything and the sound of splintering wood. I watch myself run. I stumble. I cannot see. The first sweeps across the grassy field. It licks at the bases of the crosses. I choke and stumble. I fall to my knees. I burn, but it is not painful. I close my eyes.

“Would you ignore me?”

I open my eyes, but all is darkness. “What are you? Who are you?” I ask.

A young man emerges from the smoke around me. I know him. Waves of light hair fall to his shoulders. His eyes are dangerous. He kneels. “I am the smoke and the fire. I am the shadows and the light. Run with me in darkness and you will never stumble. I will burn a path for you. All you must do is trust.”

“Will you catch me?”

“You do not want me to catch you. Fire burns and smoke chokes. I will scorch you. Do not fall.”

“Will I find All the Children?”

“No.”

“Then why should I trust you? Why should I run with you in darkness for nothing?”

“You may yet find the secret.”

“Then I will continue.”

“I will guide you.”

He takes my hand and together we run through the choking smoke. He has no fear. I use this. I feel the wind at my back, fanning the fire that gives us cover. It burns the crosses. I hear them scream. I am the sound. I pass through. I am alone.

I am the earth. Ken is the ocean, he catches me in warmth, and gives me life. Omi is the sky, he shines above me, and lifts me upwards. Youji is the fire, he burns beneath me, and runs with me in darkness.

Here there is nothing. I stand alone once again. I feel nothing. I fade, falling out of existence.

“What is the secret? Who will catch me?” I cry.

“I cannot catch you. I am but the wind. You will fall through me.”

“I cannot catch you. I am but fire. I will burn you.”

“I cannot catch you. I am but water. You do not believe in me.”

The last voice is his. I search blindly in the void. “I do believe, I was wrong!. Catch me. I need you to live!”

“You said I was not real, and so it is true. What is water without a shore, without something to cling to? It is nothing. You left me to find the secret, but it is here. I am but water and you have made me nothing.”

I begin to weep into my hands. Salty tears flow over my flesh. Arms catch me. I am cradled in warmth I cease to fall. I do not fade away.

I look up, taking my hands from my face. I see his face. I weep with joy, I choke on his name.

He touches my cheek. He takes a tear on his finger. “And so you create me anew.”

I wake with a little start. A chill has settled in my spine. It tingles, shivers spread through my body. I sit up and run a hand over my face. That was… quite a dream. I always hate those symbolic dreams that play like a bad existential movie. I look over at Ken who is sleeping soundly at my side. I trace a finger over his face and lean down to kiss his eyes. He stirs and grumbles.

“You are my water, Kenken.”

He snorts. “Wha…? Wha d’yah say?”

“You are my water and I am your earth.”

“Sure…. Now, I’m tired, koi. Go… back… sleep.”

“That's the secret, you know.”

“Wha… secret?” he says still mostly asleep.

“The secret of All the Children.”

He blinks and opens his eyes, staring up at me. “What?!”

“Will you catch me?”

He runs the back of his hand across his mouth and smacks his lips. “Sure. Anytime. Now can we go back to sleep?”

I smile softly and lie down beside him, pulling him into my arms. “I love you, aité.”

“Yeah, yeah. Me you, same.”

I pull him closer and kiss his face. He nestles into my arms and promptly drifts away. I close my eyes and let him cradle me in warmth.

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After thoughts: Don’t ask about the windmills. It’s a personal thing. I’ve been haunted by the image of the power fields at South Point, Hawaii for over ten years. It is the one place on earth that has had a lasting affect on my psyche. The sound is… like nothing I can describe… eerie and absolutely amazing. Go there if you ever get the chance.