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> In the perpetual meantime of a shelter eternity, most are content to live and not to dream. But in the hidden corner where the gods gazes do not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming. Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity. We will defy this world from a power from beyond. -- Anon Guest

There are some realities in which time is not a relative dimension. Things do happen sequentially, but there is little cause to affect. In such realities, there is no hunger, no need to eat. That which is broken can bounce back. That which is made returns to its component parts. Dreams... are not dreamt.

In this reality, the deities of multiple realities gather. They are the only things that change. Shaped and moulded by the external forces of their believers. That said, their shapes are continually plastic. One could not, at a glance, tell Jupiter from Janus. Or Loki from Lathander.

In this space, Humans have arrived. You just can't stop them.

They have already discovered the rules, and the absence of biological pressures. They have tried to find their own deities amongst the identical, amorphous blobs that are the gods.

And further, they have tried to dream.

Tried... and failed.

Sleep _is_ possible in this eternal space, but it is nothing more than a relatively short period in which the body and mind are both at rest.

This has only made the Humans angry.

"We have the technology," grumbled Bao as she tried, once more, to make something when it kept disassembling in her hands. "We can _make_ dreams. We need to dream, I think. It's psychological."

"But... we're not changing," Pilu was drumming his heels against the crate he was using as a seat. "Can we even _have_ psychological effects if nothing's changing?"

"I don't want to be stuck here long enough to find out. Sure we got _in_ but getting _out_ requires... imagination. And I haven't been able to imagine anything since--"

A mutual look between the explorers. The unspoken, growing horror that they would be stuck _forever_ in this madness. Just the endless sameness. The same view, the same stuff, the same lack of needs. Hell, Flor had stayed awake for four 'days' running just to see if they _could_.

No ill effects. So far. Which might also have been an effect of this environment. They really could not tell.

"I am not going to accept that this is how things are meant to be. I _will_ find a way to make us dream. I _will_ find a way _back out_." So far, that involved putting a thing together faster than the universe could return it to its original state.

A click of a button.

Something in the laws of this reality...

..snapped.

There _were_ four humans in this space. There _were_ traces of their arrival in the form of the ship that got them there and the beginnings of a camp of sorts.

Now... there were four new gods. Amorphous and drifting as belief made them different with every thought from outside this realm. They had the power to do whatever they wanted... and nothing they wanted to do.

[Image <a href="https://www.canstockphoto.com">(c) Can Stock Photo / wassiliy</a>]

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