Icon from a picrew by grgikau. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
Hob dreamed of Robyn when he was twelve apprenticing under a carpenter and coming home with raw hands from handling new tools.
Hob dreamed of parties he went to at the height of Swing. Dressed in his finest, dancing with woman in sparkly flappers.
Hob dreamed of late nights in a tavern sitting across from his stranger, lost in crystal blue eyes. In his dreams, his stranger reaches for him, wants him just as badly.
Hob dreamed of his days as a foot soldier, sometimes in 1380 or 1914 or 1502. He dreams of the itch in his boots and the dirt he couldnt scrub out of his hands.
He dreams of Eleanor, belly swollen with their baby. Robyn helping her to rest by the fire as she got more sick and frail. She would sing lullabies to their unborn child sometimes, and he can’t quite remember the sound of her voice.
He dreamed of college. Of the many years he worked hard to get his doctorate. The late sleepless nights he had, more often in the last century than in the rest of his life all together. He dreamed of the bitter taste of stale coffee on his tongue.
Most recently Hob Gadling had been dreaming of warm summer days, sitting in the park, and feeding ravens. Sometimes he would be cooking in his dream, baking bread across from a dear friend, laughing to jokes he wouldn’t remember when he woke up.
Morpheus saw these dreams. Held them close. Gave strict orders to keep the nightmares away. Maybe one day he would walk in them himself.
So, Hob learning about Dream’s imprisonment and Dream kinda being real down at how much things have changed and how little a hand he had in that at all, like he’s the collective unconscious of humanity’s dreams and… humans obviously don’t need him anymore, because they did just fine without him for over a century…
Hob making a physical mix tape (or two or three or-) of all the songs Dream has missed between 1916 to when he got free that are about ‘the Sandman’, or about dreams/daydreams/the Dreaming etc, etc. The mix tape just has 'Dream’ written on it.
But, Hob doesn’t have anything left that would actually play a mix tape anymore, so he also makes a digital playlist and the next time Dream visits him, he sits Dream down in his apartment like 'Humans never forgot about you, Dream. Even when you weren’t here. We were looking for you, thinking of you. Trust me?’ and Dream just nods. So, Hob lets the playlist play at random, he made it by year, but he just lets it run as fate dictates.
Of course, the first song is Talk by Hozier, and almost immediately it gets Dream crying, because Hob has no idea the significance of that song. Hob almost stops the playlist entirely, but Dream shakes his head, tells him to keep playing it.
After Talk comes Evanescence’s Imaginary, comes Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics, comes Dream On by Aerosmith, comes Enter Sandman by Metallica, comes Mr Sandman by the Chordettes, comes the River of Dreams by Billy Joel, comes the Gunner’s Dream by Pink Floyd, comes Trees (Hallway of Leaves) by Sleeping at Last, comes-
They have to stop, because there are too many songs to play all in one go, but when they do stop, Dream is a wreck, clinging to Hob and thanking him with a shaking voice. Hob clings back just as tight and smiles brightly and says 'ah, my dearest friend, this is nothing, wait until you hear all the poems!’
Alright. But Hob accidentally making the New Inn as a temple to Morpheus. All of Moprheus’ more loyal but still epically curious Dreams/Nightmares (except for Gilbert) being like ‘hey, hey, wait. This is a temple to Lord Morpheus, right? So, technically, this land is part of Lord Morpheus’ realm, so technically, if we go to the New Inn… we aren’t leaving the Dreaming, so Lord Morpheus can’t get mad at us!!’
So, Dreams and Nightmares keep showing up at the Inn, but Hob doesn’t know that they’re Dreams and Nightmares, he just thinks they’re kind of odd regulars. They all become oddly fond and protective of Hob, like 'he’s our Lord Morpheus’ high priest, no one messes with our hi- we mean, with our Lord’s high priest!!’
By the time Dream gets free, the New Inn is the regular haunt of more Dreams/Nightmares than humans, unless one includes Hob’s own students, who get discounts there. Dream shows back up at the New Inn, does NOT notice any of his Dreams/Nightmares because he’s too busy making heart eyes at Hob and being all 'omg, pls take me back, I fucked up, I am sorry! D: ’ without saying even 1% of that.
Dream only notices his Dreams/Nightmares are literally there watching him flirt with Hob when they make out on like the third date, and Hob’s students all start whistling/cheering/clapping/etc and Hob is like 'oh no’. Dream turns to look at the other guests and finds himself meeting eyes with one of his own subjects and it’s just that scene where Corinthian and Gilbert see each other, only this time it’s Dream and a bunch of his own subjects, like suddenly everywhere he looks he finds a familiar pair of eyes and he’s like ’!!!??!?!?’ and they’re all like 'hey, boss, technically you own the land, so we’re not breaking any rules :) ’ and Dream suddenly suffers the mortifying ordeal of being known by his subjects… and Hob, but Hob doesn’t count anymore because he worked through his mortification over that one…
one of my favorite things is dream’s otherworldliness being reinforced by hob absolutely unknowingly doing something random and innocuous that amounts to an Expression of Feelings, or something that’s part of what dream would consider a courtship ritual or an act of dedication to him; and dream calling him out on it; and hob being like, Oh, that’s not what i meant per se, but i’m 1000% on board and you are glorious and unknowable and don’t mind if i do
(building an entire inn aside…)
just small things, like hob, under a ton of stress at work, decides to throw his distaste for cliche to the winds and singlemindedly apply himself to self-care; he starts growing his own chamomile in his little kitchen garden and develops a sort of elaborate and slightly hedonistic nighttime wind-down ritual which he’s rather proud of—no electronics two hours before bed, classical playing softly on the record player, chamomile tea and honey, lavender pillow spray, time set aside for at least a few lines of poetry before bed, maybe a nice relaxing bath—the whole nine. and if while he’s doing all these things he spares a thought for his friend morpheus, who could really use some being spoiled with fine things, hob thinks, well, who can blame him?
this entire time dream is quietly watching hob do these things, like, hob gadling, my darling; for me???swoon… have the boon of extra restful sleep and fancy, lovely dreams
dream shows up at their next meeting (nothing like centennial now; it’s once a month, because friends do meet up once a month at the pub to talk and laugh and look at each other and tangle their ankles beneath the table… right?) and he’s like, “your attentions have not gone unnoticed, hob gadling,” all warm and affectionate
hob—who, mind you, is living his best life, herb garden thriving, handsomer than ever, not an ounce of tension in his shoulders, lectures divinely inspired by extra-great rest, bookshelf of poetry anthologies overflowing because he’s been reading so much, none the wiser to the favor of one (1) lord of dreams upon him—is utterly nonplussed, like, “my… my attentions?”
hob, ever grounded, ever practical, is thinking, oh my god, i tried playing footsie with him one too many times, and he had to go and notice, didn’t he, and i’m fucked—
dream is like, “your offerings? your rituals?” and poor hob, who is allergic to the occult, and would never knowingly do a ritual in his life; his eyebrows are just… climbing… so dream, thinking his poor human is nervous about rejection, adds, “i assure you, they are most welcome”
cue dream having to explain to hob that he’s basically accidentally made an altar out of his entire house and has been petitioning him with herbs and essential oils and words read with intention and ritual baths and Pointed Thoughts??? and all of it has been, you know, Very Well Received
hob is like, oh my god, let’s not get started on the Thoughts i have about you
dream is all, “and in return, i have given you my favor”
