The Seller Of Dreams

Here cometh he, a-gliding swift. Deep in the heart of the night, a cloaked figure pauses. He watches over sleeping men, women and children, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
A long pipe is produced, followed by a hooting sound similar to that of an owl's, as he blows the pipe. Dark, evil shapes suddenly start swarming around our elusive figure. But he, calm as ever in the face of danger, simply rounds up these horrifying black demons into a tiny jar, which is promptly thrown into a pocket of his.
He then takes out a handful of shimmery dust from a ragged bag, lifts it to his lips, and gently uses a deep breath to scatter the glitter about.

When his work is done, he allows himself a small, bittersweet smile, before heading off to another area where he is needed.

Into the minds of people sleep. The shimmery dust dances its way into people's minds, navigating its own way efficiently. A void where the black demons once inhibited is filled with presence of light, happiness, everything good, everything man cherishes.

Spreading sweet and darkness lift, Joy to dreams of simply deep. The worried lines on people's faces cease, replaced with smiles so sweet, as they continue in their peaceful journey to Dreamland. Their sleep is plagued by nightmares no more.

Allow me to relate this tale of our hero, he who spreads joy all around the world.

* * *
In the medieval times, people placed much faith and superstition in their dreams, claiming that dreams were a gift of God, an omen of what was to come. This remedy was clung on to by many persistent folk, desperate for their happy, fulfilling dreams to come true; yet it drove many mad, those who had seen horrible things in their nightmares, terrified out of their wits that they were being hunted by dark forces.
This preposterous way of thinking was not ignored by a youth by the name of Paris. He was a handsome boy of sixteen, with many young women already desiring him to be their suitor. He in turn pined for the love of the most evasive one-the village chief's daughter, Vega. Now Vega who was a proud girl, certain of her status as "hot property", demurred this eager request from a poor milkman's son. He showered her with lavish praise of her beauty and grace, extravagantly expressing speeches of love directed to his beloved. Yet Vega remained unmoved. She scorned him for not being good enough for her.
This sort of statement would usually turn suitors away, but Paris' heart had already been given to her, and her cruel rejection only added to his determination and lust. He became desperate, and mankind is usually driven to commit acts of foolishness in this uncontrolled state. He called up a spirit of love, not knowing it was the devil he had summoned, being the ignorant youth he was.
The devil, careful to allow Paris to believe it was a spirit of love he had conjured, made with him a pact-that Paris would be able to shape and mould the most perfect dream of himself and his desired Vega, then quietly slip the dream into Vega's sleeping mind. The condition was that, the devil hesitated, pretending that it was too great a task for young Paris to perform.
"Whatever may it be? Let me know and put it to action I will," cried Paris passionately, for he was much indebted to this kind, friendly spirit who had just offered to make his wildest dream come true.
The devil went on to explain that there were many terrible demons lurking around, attacking sleeping people's minds, called nightmares. These creatures of the night, shuddered the crafty devil, were highly dangerous, not to mention frightening. Which was why these nightmares, he declared, should be put away into a pit where they would destroy themselves, and perish once every last one of them was imprisoned. Paris' job was to cleanse people's minds from nightmares, then replace them with sweet dreams. A good dream for a bad one, like a bargain, the devil reasoned.
Paris, feeling sure that the plan would work, readily accepted the mission. Besides, he assured himself, it was a heroic effort to rid the world of dark demons. One night of work was a small price to pay for the affections of his beloved Vega, and the task seemed simple enough. However, a pact with the Devil is never easy to get out of, for the devil never plays fair.
Late that evening Paris set off, armed with the magical objects given to him-a cloak to discreet himself from human eyes; feather-light shoes allowing him to fly; a long pipe with the sound of an owl's hoot to draw the attention of night demons, for they were sworn enemies, owls being creatures which wake the sleepers up with its loud hoots thus preventing nightmares to spread their mischief; a jar to capture the demons, then transport them to the pit in the centre of the earth where they will ultimately be destroyed; and lastly a sack of magical glittery stardust, which were sweet dreams he had to replace the nightmares with. Stealthily he stole into the bedroom of Vega's, watched her sleeping figure and his heart ached, yearning for her love. He kissed her face softly, promises to marry her, and then he embarked on the perilous journey he was about to undergo. Alas, he didn't realise this was a journey to last a he would have cherished his freedom more.
Dutifully Paris completed his mission, only returning home before the first lights of day broke out the next morning. Tired and weary, but filled with elation at the prospect of being greeted by a loving Vega willing to be his wife, he met up again with the devil. "Well," said Paris, his eyes bright, "Fulfilled have I my part of our agreement, now all I ask is the dream for my beloved." The devil regarded him with bored eyes, then informed him, "Why, young Paris, rid the world of nightmares you have not, and thus you have not succeeded." With a lazy flick of the hand, he conjures up a magical mirror, showing Paris how the nightmares had found their way out of the pit in which they were held captive. The devil's voice grew colder, "Therefore, in failing your task, your life is bound to mine till you manage your end of the bargain."
The youth chastised himself for being careless. Yet as time passed he began to realise he had been tricked-the nightmares were impossible to keep a hold of, they were far too clever and cunning. Just like the spirit Paris had called up, who, he now began to see, was evil, the cause of all this complication. There was nothing he could do about it, he had, in a moment of weakness, sold his soul to the devil, and there had been no turning back ever since.
In spite of the tragedy of Paris, fate works in funny, mysterious ways. Vega, without any intention on her or the devil's part, was visited by a dream. Oddly enough, this dream was similar to the one Paris had hoped for, foretelling her that she and Paris were destined to be together, and that the tiny village would prosper once Paris became chief. The maiden took this dream very seriously, and wished with all her heart to see him again. But was gone, lost forever. Many a tear was shed on the boy's behalf, but none so much as distressed Vega. She regretted her past actions in turning down her alleged soulmate's proposal, wishing fervently that she could turn back the hands of time and change the course of events. Her belief in the dream was so strong that she swore she would never marry or even set eyes on another man as long as she lived. All her beauty withered away, and she lost her natural grace and loveliness due to her grief. Every morning, there is always a misty veil of dew hanging over our midst-Vega's tears, as it is believed to be.
Thus is the story of Paris, the Seller of Dreams. Thus is the reason for the phenomena of dreams and nightmares.

Here cometh he, a-gliding swift.