Fundy always stared out his window at night. It was the constant changes in the night sky that kept life interesting, distracting him from the constant reality. Keeping his eyes trained up towards the stars, unbeknownst of the eyes that stared back down at him, he silently wished for a change.

The being that observed from a far listened very carefully, almost scared to miss a single word that spilled from the other's mouth. It was a quiet plea. A begging from the man to no longer be at the dispense of war. He willed the mortal to drift to his subconscious, giving the illusions of a deep sleep, he greeted him softly, answering each prayer with a light nod.

Fundy felt as if he was dreaming when he confessed his thoughts to the newcomer. He took in the simple smile and the eyes that held a new constellation with each blink.

It was then when he dubbed the strange being as a man of his dreams, Dream, to be more specific. A reoccurring visitor that only appeared in his most vulnerable and in need moments. Never saying too much but just enough to ease his worries of reality.