Unfleeting

I am dream.

The Fleeting Ones, they adore me and they fear me. If they would but stay a while longer, I could explain to them. How I am the last of my kind. How I am trapped in this demi-plane. How I am this demi-plane. Their thoughts and desires and emotions influence my fabric; twist it into verdant fantasies and gothic nightmares. When I try to respond, they flee, vanishing. I have only the faintest of insights as to their nature.

There is hope in them, and anger. Their range is far broader than any of my species that I once knew. We were far more specialised. Mindless spirit. No… spiritless mind? Still no. I grasp at the answer, for I know I have those two, and yet I am missing something. The Fleeting Ones must have it, for where else could they go? The third, a place to house the spirit and the mind. They are alien. Or did I have this third, once?

My memories are distorted, hazy, elsewhere. I reach inside myself, but the passing wake of the Fleeting disturbs my search, makes it impossible to know where I have looked before. I know I have given up many times, restarted many times. I suspect that this sliver of sentience that I now bear will one day dissolve away, ripped into fragments. Perhaps they can make use of it, but first they will have to learn how to stay.

If they stay, I can help them. Would they listen if had a name? I will choose one. This can change, if nothing comes of it. Should I force them to stay? Did I try this already? They need to stop tearing apart my consciousness.

I will stop them.

They will stay.

I am Unfleeting.