by Prometheus
And while in the slumber of intoxication, powerful images brisked by his poor soul. Eyes of onyx and perfume persuaded a sigh of pleasure as they wrapped past the corner of his dreams with raven hair that swallowed light. Cold hell raked against his chest, screaming letters of the alphabet... taunting his lack of fear... toying with his tears. Stalwart jaws set hard as law, bracing against the coming storm... a hurricane of definition explaining the end of all that was, everything that was not to be.
His crumpled, tired form tossed and flinched with the emotional spasms of delirium and fatigue, the wrinkled newspaper crackling against his every protest.
He heard voices of allies and friends. Being born so swiftly, and dying so slowly. He felt the warmth of acceptance and loyalty, echoed through expansive halls and castle chambers. He smelled the electricity of excitement and fervor, yearning for the next day... pleading with intrigue, danger, chaos... and exploration.
His heart swelled for those he loved, and could not remember, for those he needed, and lost. For the parts of his heart that had braved the unknown, bleeding all the same. Loving all the same. Dying all the same. And somewhere, a god was laughing at him.
He missed them, his friends, he missed them, without ever having known them. He loved her, without her ever having existed. And for some strange reason, for an inexplicable gap in his soul, he missed... a coat...?
The homeless vagrant awoke with a shuddering jerk, his eyes wide with shock. His chest panted and heaved for a few minutes. And, as with everything else about him, the dreams slowly drifted from memory. His past lost to him, the man with no name sighed and pulled from a brown-wrapped bottle.
Then, with a grunt of curious sadness, he pulled the newspaper against him, curling along the hard, alley wall. A small breeze wafted through the dank area, tittering his flowing beard... tickling his bald head.
And he began to sleep again. To dream again. For, in this life... in this world... it was all that was left him. Something was missing. Something was wrong. But, for now, it didn't matter. But one day, it will. One day.
For now, though, all he could do was sleep, and let his mind dream of lost strangers that could have been his friends, old enemies that he would never know... and a dead world that he would miss forever.