Dream of the Endless: ah, there's a conundrum.
In this aspect (and we perceive but aspects of the Endless, as we see the light glinting from one tiny facet of some huge and flawlessly cut precious stone), he is rake-thin with skin the colour of falling snow.
Dream accumulates names to himself like others make friends; but he permits himself few friends.
If he is closest to anyone, it is to his elder sister, whom he sees but rarely.
He heard long ago, in a dream, that one day in every century Death takes on mortal flesh, better to comprehend the lives she takes must feel like, to taste the bitter tang on mortality: that this is the price she must pay for being the divider of the living from all that has gone before, all that must come after.
He broods on this tale, but has never questioned her about its truth. Perhaps he fears that she would answer him.
Of all the Endless, save perhaps Destiny, he is the most conscious of his reponsibilities, the most meticulous in their execution.
Dream casts a human shadow, when it occurs to him to do so.
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Text and Images from Season of Mists, © 1990,91 DC Comics Inc, written by Neil Gaiman.
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