"All right, I already knew that nightmares were endless. They were born in the Nightmare Domain, like an endless stream of maggots crawling out of a cesspit."
Su Ming rose to his feet. He saw Lucien, the butler, striding over from outside the door. Lunch was probably ready, and he could have a meal in a dream before setting off. That did not stop him from making disgusting comparisons.
"But that said, what made you think of giving every maggot a name?"
What decent person gave their own nightmares names?
For example, if one day you dreamed that you had died, then couldn't stop thinking about it after waking up, would you name last night's dream "Drowned in a Cesspit"?
Most dreams had no names. Take the Dream of a Thousand Cats—one could call it anything, because it was simply itself.
Nightmares, on the other hand, each had their own names. It was rather strange.
"I am the Lord of Dreams, the King of the Dream Dimension, but not its first king." Daniel rose as well and brushed his white robes. What fell from them was not dust, but rainbow-like gleams of light. "The answer you seek has already vanished into dreams."
What he meant was that he had inherited a complete mess.
Many people knew of Morpheus, the First Dream. He had actually been quite active and had good relationships with many mages, especially Constantine.
But few people knew that he had always suffered from depression.
Around 1820, in order to resist the Old Ones' invasion of reality, he had launched a Dream of a Thousand People to alter the world. Afterwards, he fell into a weakened state—so weak that climbing a flight of stairs left him gasping for breath.
Then one day, he heard someone calling for him