Dream a Nightmare

Dream squinted into the sunshine. Had the world always been this bright? Or was it just because he had come from Limbo?

Dream assumed that it was the second. Then a thought crossed his mind. Had Wilbur felt like this when he had first come back? Dream didn't know. He had been in prison when he had brought Wilbur back. And they hadn't really been on the best terms in the first place.

Dream almost laughed at that thought. Not the best terms? They had been practically mortal enemies. Before the revival, anyway.

And then Dream heard another sound. It was his laughter. Had he actually laughed without realizing it? He didn't think so.

Dream frowned. Then why had he.....

Dream realized the answer. He heard himself, because he was here. Dream turned around, and looked through the forest. And, there he was.

Dream. Himself. As he had been. Before everything. Before L'Manburg, before Doomsday, before the prison, before Wilbur. Before Tommy.

He was calling out to George, and laughing. Happy. Genuinely happy.

Dream couldn't remember the last time he had been truly happy. 

He took in a deep breath, and walked forward. But then he hesitated. Would the other Dream see him? Would George? How did this work? Was he even really here?

Dream raised up an arm, looking at himself. He was still half transparent, but he didn't know what that meant. Glatt had been transparent, sort of. Ghostbur hadn't been exactly transparent, but he had never really seemed to be there when you were talking to him. Maybe Dream was the same.

But no.

He had to be here.

He had to be.

This was the only chance.

Dream took in another breath, and squared his shoulders, marching after Dream and George as they ran about, collecting materials. Soon enough, though, Dream lost his trepidation. And his bravery. He lost himself. In the memory. In the days since. Once, everything had been perfect.

This, right here, was exactly what he had always wanted. He shed silent tears that night, standing over the other Dream. The one who would become the Nightmare. Himself.

Why couldn't it all just be simple?

Why did Tommy have to.....

Wait. But had it truly been Tommy's fault?

He had started this, hadn't he?

Wasn't it just as much his fault as Tommy's? Sure, Tommy had started it, and kept provoking him, but Dream had been the one who had ended it.

Then he stopped again. Had he really been the one to end it?

Tommy and Tubbo had decided to launch the nuke by themselves.

Hadn't they?

Dream shook his head. It was all fuzzy. But he needed to fix it.

What did he need to fix?

He couldn't remember.

The Nightmare.

He had to do something about.....

What was the Nightmare?

And what was he supposed to do about it?

He couldn't remember. There was something. Something that he should remember.

What had it been about?

Something.... Tommy?

Tommy who?

He needed to protect.....

Tommy.....

And Wilbur?

Maybe?

Dream shook his head, but that only seemed to make it worse.

And then he remembered.

One moment of clarity. He was sent back. He was the Nightmare. He had to stop himself. He had ruined it all. But why?

And then it was gone. He knew only that he had a job to do.

But what was it?

When the sun rose, he followed Dream and George again, all day. He lost himself again.

What good was there in asking pointless questions? 

He was happy. That was all that mattered. There was a strange sorrow, too. But he was happy.