He remembers none of these, but when the dream comes to him at night, while he sleeps, it's greeted with a gleeful kind of enthusiasm and, without thinking, Ollie strives to take the reins:
-----
There is a cape on his shoulders, heavy and dark and lined with furs, and he brings one hand up to slowly brush back the collar, to appreciate its finery. He has never owned anything quite so expensive, so indulgent, but in the dream it feels only appropriate. Great Knights are finely dressed, and so he must be, too. If he enjoys it -- well, there's hardly any harm in that, is there? He has earned it, after all.
[no, he hasn't]
He doesn't fully understand the duties of the great knights, so in this dream of himself, the words have gone to gibberish. Townfolks approach to yammer at him unintelligibly and Ollie, comfortably perched on a throne three size too big for him, only nods sagely and yammers back in the same incomprehensible language -- and somehow says exactly the right thing to leave them gushing and content, shimmery-eyed and please with all the good he's done. Not only is he a Great Knight in the dream, but he's the Greatest Knight, the one they love best and shower in affection.
[in his bed, he turns slowly, sleepily, and happily: an orphaned urchin in scraps of leather and fur]
When he's done, he strides from the hall down a long line of supplicants, and as he passes he gently extends his hand, somber and kind, to brush his fingertips against theirs. It's all they want from him, and he's only too happy to give it, waving them up as they try to bow. He's not only Great, but he can also be humble. Their adoration is enough, their debasement is unnecessary.
[not that he has ever bowed to anyone, himself]
From there, he finds his way to a dining room overflowing with fine foods unlike anything he's ever eaten in the real world. Pastries and pies, great hunks of meat carved into delicate, thin slices, that contrasts with the thick, buttered slabs of bread that are piled up toward the ceiling. There is heavy cream, whipped and sugared, to pour on top of his berries, and he is tempted -- sorely tempted -- to dive into the lot of it head first.
[in the real world, he probably would]
Here, instead, he takes one of the gold-rimmed plates and tucks it in against his side to sample a piece of everything. The logic of dreams turns the small surface into an infinite storage. He fits roast beef on it, and duck, and ham; bread and potatoes and turnips; eel and cake and sweets. He sits with it all and eats until he is full, and then looks at the pile, still impossibly tall. He will be kind, as well, and the servants can have the leftovers. After all, he must get to bed.
[his bed is hard, and he whimpers as he resettles, then finds his way happily back into the dream]
Because his bed is plush and comfortable, covered in cushions so soft that he about melts into it, surrounded on all sides by soft velvet and warm wool. He wraps himself in it like a cocoon, mumbling happily as he dozes off to rest.
----
And wakes up alone in a cold bed.
OOC
My character's name: Oliatos AKA Ollie
Character's journal link: Journal
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Dark-skinned and overly energetic, all Ollie wants to do is make himself useful to the cause, whatever cause it is that adopts him. He is kinetic, fond of physical activities and new experiences, with a boundless curiosity that gets annoying and fast.
Rank of character Apprentice-Knight.
Sacred Points obtained: 5/100
