Into the mirror it goes, this memory, this dream within a dream … this reflection of myself, I who am naught but dreams made flesh. Well, sort of flesh. Dreams made manifest, at least. Into the mirror it goes …

:: Reflection One :: Nuala is lovelier than she imagines she is, even without her glamour. She merely has to believe it. It is not her fault that Dream doesn't seem to appreciate. He doesn't seem to appreciate any of us, Lucien excepted. We women? Not so much. Perhaps Eve, and even then … well, who wants to understand that relationship?

What Nuala doesn't understand is that Dream is a self-absorbed son of a bitch, and we all want his notice. Perhaps he is immune to us, we Scantlings, to our power. After all, he has dominion over the lot of us. Then again, dear Nuala, perhaps the reason he denies you the use of your glamour is because he prefers, for once, to see something "real" within the Dreaming. For all we can give him, we can't give him that.

Then again, it is Morpheus we are speaking of here, Who knows, truly? Who knows. :: End Reflection ::

And another silver thread enters the mirror, this one frayed and hurried. Abrupt. Thrumming with … fear.

::Reflection Two :: Something is very wrong. The Cards came to get me, empowered by HER(??!). Came to abduct me, really. "Get" seems almost like it was an Escort Service. And while I know all about the Escort business, this wasn't it. I don't know who SHE is. Eve? Someone else in the Dreaming? I just don't know. I hate being frightened -- though, Dream knows, the men certainly love it. And, in the end, I am stronger for my fear for that very reason.

Being a Scantling is very complicated sometimes. It helps if you don't think about the paradoxes too much.

Then, outside the door, right before the twin gates … there is a hideous thing. A Wrongness. In the Dreaming. Growing. Spreading like some malignancy. Ramses went to examine it, and no one has seen him since … and Lucien … my dear Lucien … he no longer remembers me.

As for Dream, that son of a bitch, he is wallowing in some new misery, and is ignoring us! We called to him, and he told us, effectively, to sod off. Alright, he told Ramses to sod off … I couldn't even get through to him. I thought about going to his Gallery and trying to find him there, but I chickened out. That I would even consider it is a clear indication of how frightened I am.

You know I wouldn't swear at Dream if I wasn't very scared. Fear strips away our civilized facades. I suppose that's not entirely true for us … but it sounds good, doesn't it?

And now, look around! There are no men to benefit from having a woman to protect. Which means I'll have to deal with all of this myself. Whatever this is. Hence, a new aspect of myself is born.

I need new clothes. :: End Reflection ::