A dream about the Sandman

News:
Uploaded a new concept piece:

…

I received Digital Art Masters: Volume 1 today, which contains my work with an accompanying tutorial. It took a while because somehow the package was missent (that’s the word they used on the postal marking) to Thailand. How the hell did they make that mistake? The book is very nice, with great design and print quality. I was quite impressed. Kudos to the folks at 3dtotal.com!

Weblog:
My dreams have been pretty damn interesting lately. I think it’s because I’m only a month away from moving back to the States and looking for a new job, so there’s a lot on my mind. I had one last night that was so complete that it practically requires no editing to be a finished short story. Don’t believe me? Guess I’ll have to tell it to you then.

This is my dream about Neil Gaiman and the Sandman:

(For those of you that don’t know, Neil Gaiman is an author, and The Sandman (whoes name is Morpheus), is a famous comic book series Neil created/wrote for many years.)

————————————————————————–

Neil receives birthday cards from various people wishing him a happy birthday. One card in particular was stunning–a flash animation made collectively by various indy comic book creators. It told a story of the Sandman.

The Sandman was in fact Neil himself, and he’s at his birthday party with all sorts of guests. His lover comes to get him, ready to go on a little getaway vacation. They bid their guests fairwell and travel to the middle east. While walking around, they pass by unfortunate victims of political violence–people getting their heads chopped off at the hand of political adversaries. Morpheus’s lover begs him to put a stop to the violence, and the Sandman says he cannot interfere in mortal affairs whenever his whim strikes–that is not why he was given his immortal powers. The human world must function on its own set of rules, without the interference from immortals at every turn of events.

But when the Sandman come upon a dear mortal friend of his–a war journalist who’s become a captive and is scheduled to be executed, his resolve was shaken. The journalist seems to have made peace with his pending demise–his demeanor calm and composed, ready to step into the afterlife. Morpheus, remembering the many late night chats with his friend by the fire while drinking good wine, decides he could no longer take a neutral stance in human affairs. With a wave of his hand, Morpheus makes himself visible to the mortals and stops time–everyone frozen except for his journalist friend. The journalist was shocked and overjoyed to see the Sandman, but his defective heart gave out with the sudden astonishment. The Sandman reaches out and caught the collapsing body of his friend, and when he lifts his friend’s face, Morpheus was heartbroken to see a horrifyingly distorted laughter, silent and frozen on the journalist’s face. It was a death caused by happiness.

As the Sandman carries his friend’s body away from the makeshift prison, he notices something at the edge of his peripheral–something odd at the other end of the makeshift prison. Morpheus walks to the other end of the building to take a closer look–then it strikes him what is so odd. It is a small group of soldiers hiding in the bushes right next to the building, and the soldiers look nothing like the ones walking aound–they have different uniforms and carry different weapons. They are a squad of American speical forces–specifically Delta operators–just about to strike and rescue the journalist from the enemy’s clutches.

Shaking his head in despair, the Sandman turns to his lover and said quietly, “This is why we are not supposed to interfere with mortal affairs.”

————————————————————————–

Pretty damn cool, eh? Notice how the dream actually contains a fully functioning irony for the ending? That’s what I meant by it being a finished short story without any editing from me. Maybe I should tell it to Neil Gaiman–I’m sure he’d be amused.