His words are like liquid, every word calculated and loose but most importantly they slide across my skin and disappear. Each word is like a drop of water in the ocean, unimportant and to be forgotten in a sea of mystery without answers and empty meanings. I don't visit him to hear him talk.

His name is Dream. There is a surreal atmosphere around him, and every time I left the world he designed for me, I was dazed. I was lost, but there were little things he left with me to remind me that my fantasy world was real. Once, he left a scratch from one of his long nails down the center of my chest. I had hissed when he marked me. He didn't leave me with any other sign that he was real. Occasionally, I would drop my hand to my chest and wonder if I had scratched myself and just imagined his presence or if I'd really ever met him at all.

Another time, I found myself with a scar across the top of my thigh. It was bumpy as if fire had danced across my skin, but I don't remember getting it. Dream whispered once that he gave it to me, whether I remember or not. I believe him as much as I can, and though I put a great deal of trust within him I'm not sure how much what comes from his mouth is credible. It doesn't matter, really, but I like to think that the scar has a great tale behind it from a world I visit in my most sacred dreams.

I feel as if I am in a trance as I slip off my shoes, walking across the cold floor of the building I believe is his. Each time I come here I wonder if I am to dance within boundless dreams, or whether I will find an old woman sitting here, staring at me and telling me that Dream never existed, that I'm in the wrong place, that I have no place to be.

The smell of jasmine and sweat clings to the walls, and fountains with multicolored smokes bubble against them. The smoke meets my nose and I let any doubt escape me. This is the place I am to be. The ceiling is arched beautifully, and there is almost no furniture but beautiful sculptures and beige walls with paintings on them of windows that allow me to look through them to different worlds of dancing streams and grandeur ball rooms, dense forests and open fields with glistening sunshine.

I'm going to tell him today that I don't want to ever leave. I'm hesitant to speak to him, because I never really have conversed with him properly. We even met in silence. He lifted his slender hand, and a dull blue smoke was dripping from it. He brought his hands to his lips and blew upon the smoke, and it trailed outwards until it tickled my nose. I was enthralled. I walked over to him, and from then on I became an addict. There were no words needed.

I am curious what a conversation with him will be like. His words may be like liquid, but I am without a clue as to whether or not his words will turn to steam at my request or if they will be ice. I can only hope that they will be as steam, burning gently into my skin and slicking it over with sweat, holding close to the creator of the steam. If the liquid changes to ice then I am not sure what I will do. Perhaps I will cry and my dream-world will be shattered forever.

A purple colored smoke glides up against my hand as I reach the paper door deep inside his home that marks his private quarters. I knock upon the wall, unsure if he will answer. My breath hitches in my throat when he does not answer. I wonder if maybe it was wrong of me to think that I could come here without notice. No, I believe I have done such before and he has never scolded me with any meaning before.

Perhaps he is hurt. The thought makes my heart pulse and I slip my fingers into the dark purple crevasse that serves as a door handle. I slide open the door and slip into the room. He's splayed backwards upon a couch with his long black hair sliding off the couch from behind him. His eyelids are painted a shimmering but dark blue color and his lips are glistening. A faint smile slips across his lips as he tilts up his head to towards me. "Leon." He never opens his eyes. All his says is my name. There's no noticeable question to his tone. He doesn't feel a need to question me.

His arms outstretch towards me and my eyes slide down his long nails, nearly half the size of his fingers and recently cut and painted the same shade of blue that marks his eyes. There are white speckles that make me think of stars on them surrounded fine symbols that mean nothing to me. They are as foreign as the world that I've stepped into, like a night sky that drifts backwards into cream skin and ivory smiles hidden in a veil of those dark curls that captivate my eyes. I want to touch him, but touching is not talking. I never have acquainted touching with talking, and never hope to combine the two.

I creep towards him, and I slide the paper door shut behind me. I suck in a deep breath of the air. His scent marks everything and tickles at my nose, sending shivers down my spine as I dig my sock-covered toes into the carpet. My feet slide across the floor as I find myself walking towards him, and it only takes a moment before I fall to my knees at his side. He doesn't move, but I bury my face into my arms on the carpet when I reach him. "Dream…"

"You want to talk." He doesn't sound as if to be questioning my motives. I've never felt a need to speak very often near him, so it's obvious that something is strange as I've already spoken.

"Is that all right?" I get no answer. I lift my eyes from the floor, but the rest of me does not move save for my tongue licking at the back of my teeth for a moment. It fails to find words to offer, but Dream is not the one who wishes to speak. My eyes lock with his. His eyes are an amber, brown speckled with green and gold. The sparkles from beneath the blue eyelids urge to me continue, and so I force myself into speaking.

"Dream, I-I don't w-want to change this," I whisper, barely enough for even me to hear the words. He lifts himself from the couch, and he closes his eyes with a blank expression upon his face. I reach out and let my fingers connect with his bare ankles. His skin is cold, and I inspect the satin red slippers with thin rice-sized beads woven into the tops. I let a finger glide across the silk and upwards around the base of his ankle. He gives an even breath and I am enthralled at the feeling of his skin.

I have felt his skin many times and in many situations, but never once have I been able to utter a single word afterwards. He doesn't allow me to as he pulls his leg back, and I follow the leg of his loose pants that make me think of a gypsy, and he is very much like one. Dream travels from place to place, and he pulls a man on miraculous adventures, but no coin is necessary.

Little bells are about his wrists and they chime when he walks. His hands are gently even-palmed with the great face of the floor and I suck in a deep breath. I am never sure of what Dream will do.He pads across the floor and through another door. I can see his shadow through the door but it is getting small the further away he walks.

I am not sure if he wishes for me to follow him or not. I know his bed quarters are in that room, but I am afraid that the thrill of his soft skin will silence me once more. I am determined to tell him, but the consequences are startling. If he turns his liquid words to ice, I am unsure if I will ever visit these beautiful worlds he offers me again.

I do not walk, but I rather I crawl towards the door. My knees are shaking from even the gentle touch that I allowed myself to take, and I feel such a great weight on my chest that if I were to stand I am sure I would only fall once more. I press my cheek very lightly against the paper. I can hear him just faintly walking, and I turn my eye to look through the paper. His shadow does not move, but I am positive that I hear feet against the floor. This might be an illusion. Maybe he is mad at me, so he is playing tricks with me.

My hand is shaking feverously as I lift it upwards to slide open the door. He is standing in the middle of the room, a bedroom without a bed, and his head is resting upon a crimson painted ladder that leads through a whole in the ceiling. I've never been to the upper rooms. The most I have ever seen of them was that the smoke sometimes pours from up there, and I know that it must be his space up there.

Dream tilts back his head so that his hair falls neatly across his shoulder as a smile comes across his lips. "Aha." His tongue gets caught between his lips as he brings a finger up to cover his mouth, that same bizarre smile on his face as if he knows so many things that I could never understand.

He turns and begins to climb up the ladder, moving slowly. The entire room goes at a bizarre and slow pace so that even the smoke moves faster than Dream does.

My feet slip from beneath me as I try and stand on my own. The ladder becomes my support, and I grab the uppermost step tightly after he disappears into the room above. I am careful not to touch him. I don't want to fall into silence.

Tears slide down my cheeks as my foot catches the bottom step. I hoist myself upwards. I want him to hear me. I want to stay here. I don't want to go home. I like this world so much better than my own.

I suck in a shaking breath and climb upwards halfway into the room to find Dream lying backwards across a half-full moon shaped bed pressed up against the wall. Black and blue curtains decorate the outskirts of the bed. Dream is not the only person present.

I pull up onto my knees to inspect this man. I've never seen him before. His skin is unnaturally white as well as his hair which is tied backwards into a ponytail unlike Dream's dark and free-hanging hair. The white haired man flecks out his hand towards me and smiles. "You wish to talk?" he says in a gentle voice that's absolutely chilling. My tears cease their fall almost instantly upon the tender words. "Speak with me."

"I – I want to stay here. I don't want to go home this time. I don't like it out there. It's frightening." My voice shakes almost painfully as my face drops to the floor. My breathing is uneven, and I suck in a deep breath to steady myself. The man with the pure white hair flicks his eyes to Dream. I can't tell what he is thinking either. He jingles, and my eyes fall to notice that in the opposite of Dream there are silver bells strung up against tweed around one of his ankles.

He crawls over to Dream and nestles his head against Dream's shoulder. I trace the outline of the stranger's lips as they glide along Dream's ear. Dream tilts his thin face to whisper at the man, and the white haired creature slowly turns his eyes in my direction. Both Dream and the stranger raise their hands to me, and the hands beckon for me to come over there.

Something churns within my stomach and my eyes burn as my heart begins to soar. I shakily crawl my way upon all fours to the bed, and I place my chin upon the end of the sheets, a sweet smell wafting from them. They smell like something I can't name. The scent of Dream meets my noise and I clamber atop the bed. I move upon all fours to be near the two that are lying before me.

Dream bends forward enough to place a hand upon my shoulder but it falls short and his nail grazes along the skin of my collar. My eyelids flutter closed and I make a hiss of pleasure even from the gentle touch. I follow after his fingers like a hungry dog. The man next to Dream puts a light hand upon my shoulder. I turn towards him as my legs find their way entangled with both of theirs. My cheek rests upon Dream's shoulder and the ivory man grips my wrist. He kisses my fingers and my eyes meet his, a dark almost colorless shade. My face goes flush as he bites down upon the soft skin at the tip of my finger. "Are you his lover?"

"Are you?" I'm not sure. I open my eye sand stare at him and then I turn to Dream who leans over and bites down onto the other man's pale white skin. "Call me Snow. I live here, if that is what you mean. I've heard you two together. A hole does little to remove sounds, and as Dream rarely speaks, so I am sure you know as to what I mean."

Snow leans over to lovingly place his kisses up and down Dream's jaw line, and I shake my head a little from side to side. "May I stay?"

I get no answer. Instead I'm pulled tighter against them. I feel two mouths against me, and taste various things. The sights about me blur behind a veil of curtains, satin, and smoke. They cover me and I'm gone to infinite other worlds without steam or ice. Words are still liquid. They still pass over me like the breath of the two that guide me further away from reality until I'm lost in a sea of pale skins and hot beats of air against everything and nothing as my head spins.

The world becomes like a slope and when I return I am between the two men. Snow is beneath me and Dream is above us both with one of the curtains from the wall draped over his shoulders and downwards, tickling my arms. His mouth hits my ear and he kisses it repeatedly. "Stay with us, but you must leave everything behind you."

"Everything," I repeat as my eyes lock with Snow's from beneath me. The only color about him now is the glaze to his eyes and the flush pink in his cheeks. I lean down and feel my lips curl around the line bump of his cheekbone from beneath his skin. Dream sinks his teeth into my skin slightly and I feel his long fingernails rake up and down my back. He's still breathing a little hard, but he hasn't moved.

"Give us your name," Snow says.

I raise a brow and say my name. "I'm Leon."

"No," Dream hisses out and I feel his nail dig in at my hip. "Your name. Everything."

"Infinity."

"Welcome to us, Infinity." His words are still liquid. Snow tilts his head and gives me a wink as Dream slides down beside the other man, kissing his cheek.

"Our Infinity," Snow whispers quietly, and they grab me again, pulling me back into the worlds that they've created.

"My Snow-Filled Dream," I answer as the world around me blurs once more. Words are unimportant now. They are liquid, neither hot nor cold and full of promises with no meaning or attachment. Each word is loose, but they bind me deep within the mysterious sea. The rivers of the sea outstretch to worlds I've never seen before, infinities beyond my imagination before Dream sent blue smoke like waves crashing around me and capturing me.

I am infinity dancing in white watered dreams.