As I stared at the empty space, I decided that my sleep muddled mind must have imagined the whole thing after all.

~⊰⊱~

She hadn't imagined it.

I had allowed myself to be seen, but not intentionally.

It was the first time I had ever made myself visible, and it was only for seconds, but they were the exact seconds she had opened her eyes from the nightmare.

I didn't think she would wake up enough to open her eyes, and I wanted to touch her, gently stroke her hair, give her some comfort.

I could only do that in my human form, while I was fully visible. 

That wasn't completely true, it wasn't that I couldn't do it, I could touch things, pick things up, hold things, but I couldn't feel it, not while I was invisible. 

I wanted to feel the softness of her hair, and the warmth of her skin. Maybe I needed the comfort of that.

I realized that she had opened her eyes, but I had done nothing to hide myself. I knew she had seen me, at least the part of me directly in her line of sight. I didn't think it would be a good idea to disappear while she was looking at me, so I stayed visible until her gasp of surprise caused her to close her eyes again.

I was still here, standing in the exact same place I was when she could see me.

I hadn't gotten a chance to touch her.

I reached out, my fingertips touching her hair, knowing that I wouldn't be able to feel it.

But I stroked it anyway, realizing she wasn't awake enough to comprehend that I was touching her even if she had been able to feel it.

I watched as her eyes drifted closed again, and I knew she would sleep for awhile, free of the nightmares. I could leave now, and go to others in need of sleep.

Except I didn't want to leave her.

I sighed deeply.

It was part of the deal though.

I had to do my job as The Sandman. Otherwise, I would no longer be The Sandman.

And that wouldn't be good at all.

I had been doing this for so many years now, and even though there had been times I thought maybe I regretted making that deal, that feeling usually went away when I considered the alternative.

Becoming The Sandman had saved my life.

If I hadn't agreed to it, well, lets just say that my days would have been numbered.

I glanced at her again, knowing she was sleeping peacefully, and would be fine.

I had to leave, no matter how badly I wanted to stay.

I would keep coming back. I couldn't stop myself.

It was only because of who I am that I can keep coming back.

~⊰⊱~

I had been fated to a short life. If not for that, I would be 128 years old right now, instead of 24. Well, I'm sure by now I would no longer be alive, but that's not the point. The point is, I'd been doing this for a long time now. 

I was grateful. I had prayed, and prayed, because I didn't want to die.

It had sounded like the perfect deal.

Become The Sandman, and time would stop for me.

The disease that was killing me would no longer progress, and I would live for all eternity, going wherever I was needed, helping people fall asleep and dream beautiful dreams. I had felt good about the fact that I would be helping people, because I loved people. I always had.

I wouldn't lie, it had been a pretty sweet deal. I couldn't be bitter that my prayers had been answered.

But as more time passed, I realized that the life I was living wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't really living after all, because no one could see me. I had no friends. I couldn't do anything, really, except help people fall asleep.

I couldn't have a conversation with anyone, because who in their right mind would talk to someone they couldn't see?

I could allow myself to be seen anytime I wanted to. There was no rule that said I couldn't. That was totally up to me.

But if I appeared to anyone, that meant I was reverting to my human form. That also meant my life moved forward, just as it does for anyone else.

Which also meant my disease progressed.

I had been diagnosed with AML. Acute myeloid leukemia.

My prognosis wasn't good. A year, at best.

I was only 24. I didn't want to die.

It wasn't that my life was perfect. Not even close. I had grown up with my alcoholic father. My mother had died during childbirth having me, and I'm pretty sure that's when my dad started drinking. I knew he blamed me, as soon as I learned how she'd died.

It all made sense. We'd never really been close at all. I had always felt like he was just tolerating me, not really giving a shit if I was around or not.

As soon as I turned 18, I moved out.

Four years went by that I didn't have a clue where he was or how he was doing. Then one day, out of simple curiosity, I looked him up.

What I found was an obituary. There was nothing special about it, no mention of me, or any family. It just said that he had passed away at the age of 47 due to complications from an illness.

I should have been sad, but I wasn't. He was better off. He had been miserable, probably since the day I'd been born.

But me, I wanted to live. I wanted the chance to try and better myself.

I wasn't a bad person, but I'd had a less than great life. And just when I thought things might finally start getting better, I find out I have maybe a year to live.

That was 104 years ago.

I had almost given up. It had been 8 months since my diagnosis. I wasn't feeling great. Still okay, still functioning, but it was easy to see that I was sick.

I knew that I could take a turn for the worse at any time. I would feel fine one day, and feel like I was at deaths door the next.

Thinking back, it feels like it all happened in a dream. The meeting, the offer of the deal.

I assumed it was an angel that spoke with me, gave me the chance to become The Sandman. But I don't know for sure.

I had 24 hours to think about it. He told me if I made my decision before the 24 hours was up, to just think about the happiest moment of my life, and he would be there, to either seal the deal, or to wish me well in my final days.

I had taken about 8 hours, and I had made my decision, dependent on the answer to a question I hoped I could ask first.

But getting him to come back might be a bit difficult. He'd told me to think of my happiest moment. I didn't really have one that I could recall.

After a lot of thought, I found myself thinking about my first day of 3rd grade. There had been a little girl, she kept smiling at me, and I finally said hi to her. Her name had been Beatrice. We became friends, and stayed friends all through 3rd grade.

Sadly, becoming friends with her had been the happiest moment I could remember in my life. Seconds after realizing that, he was there. I could remember our entire conversation to this day, very clearly.

...

"I see you've made your decision, Taehyung."

"I think I have. Am I allowed to ask a question first, before I give you my decision?"

"I don't see why not."

I hesitated, swallowing nervously.

"If I agree to become The Sandman, I understand that time stops for me. But do I remain exactly as I am right now?"

"You will stop aging, yes, and stay just how you are right now."

"So, I'll be a sick Sandman then? Because if that's the case, then no, I don't want to accept this deal. I don't want to feel how I feel right now, forever."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at me, contemplating. Thirty seconds went by.

"I'm sorry Taehyung, I guess I hadn't thought of that. Okay, how about this? Your body will be restored to how it was before you got sick. You will look and feel just fine. But you do remember what I told you about allowing yourself to be seen, correct?"

"Yes, if I allow myself to be seen, I am technically in human form, and while I'm in human form, my age, and my disease, will progress."

"Exactly. So that means that if you allow yourself to be seen for an extended period of time, you are essentially subtracting minutes from your life. If you're visible for long enough that the time comes that you would pass away from your disease, you will cease to exist, as yourself, or as The Sandman. You understand that, right?"

"I think so, yes. If I'm visible long enough for my disease to kill me, then I'll die. But if I do allow myself to be seen, and my disease progresses, am I going to start feeling sick again?"

"No. I'll make it so that you don't feel sick, or look sick. We can't have our Sandman deteriorating before our eyes. But that also means that if you stay in your human form for too long, you are risking the chance of no longer existing, and you won't have any idea when it's going to happen, because you will feel absolutely fine."

"Okay," I nodded. "I just won't let myself be seen. Then I won't have to worry about it."

"That's true. And don't forget, Taehyung, above all else, you must do your job as The Sandman. Don't let yourself be distracted from your duties. Many will need you. If you fail to do your job, the deal will end on it's own and you will revert back to your human form, time picking up right where it left off."

I had nodded in understanding, feeling like I had a sense of purpose. Finally. 

I would do my job.

"So are you accepting the deal?"

"Yes, I'll accept the deal."

...

Many years had passed, and I thought I was happy with this eternal job.

But I eventually realized that although I didn't have to, I often felt sad.

It was something I hadn't felt in a long time.

When I became The Sandman, I also gained the ability to push my emotions away, and simply help people fall asleep.

It wouldn't have worked very well if every time I helped someone who was having trouble sleeping because they'd lost a loved one, or lost a beloved pet, I let my emotions get the better of me.

So I didn't allow those emotions to surface. I kept them locked away, and I did my job without being affected by the sadness.

That's what I had been doing for as many years as I'd had this job.

Sometimes, it wasn't because they were sad that someone couldn't sleep. There were many reasons.

Stress, anxiety, joy, excitement, fear, to name just a few.

But I found it easiest to help them if I approached every situation neutrally. I found it kept me from possibly getting attached to some of them.

There had been a few that I'd helped more than once and grown fond of, but I didn't let it develop into anything, because what good would it do me? I couldn't have friends. I couldn't be seen.

Not if I wanted to keep this job.

It was hard to be neutral when it came to her though. I had tried, at the beginning.

Maybe it was because I felt guilty. Her body had needed sleep, and it was something her mind knew. I sensed that, it was what drew me there.

But she hadn't really wanted to sleep. She was fighting against it.

I had put her to sleep.

It was my fault the nightmare came.

I felt responsible, and it was impossible to hold my emotions in check.

I could feel how terrified she was when she was in the midst of that nightmare.

No one should have to be so afraid of something that isn't even real.

I knew that I was going to do whatever it took to help her see that these nightmares can't hurt her.

~⊰⊱~

I hadn't meant for her to see me, and I knew she would brush it off, deciding she had imagined the whole thing because she was so tired.

But I was going to put myself in that position again, because I knew without a doubt that I wanted to hold her. I wanted to comfort her, and tell her that I would never let the nightmares hurt her. And I wanted to be able to feel it.

It didn't have to be for long. Just a few minutes. Just long enough to give her a bit of contentment, a feeling of security. I would do it while she was asleep, and hopefully, she wouldn't wake.

Besides, would it really hurt anything if she did see me again?