Author's Notes:

For those wondering, the name "Oneiro" is word based off the Greek term "ὄνειρος" or "óneiros", and of course, it means "Dream". There's heavy symbolism to be found in Dreams, and there will be much on display throughout this story, alluding to the terror that awaits the poor inhabitants of this orphanage. But above all, remember this: do not be afraid to leave feedback to this story. I've never really done a Conversion Bureau tale before, and if I don't get feedback, I'll never know what to add more of or what to take out to better improve my work. Hopefully though, you'll find something to enjoy about this story.

Sweet dreams...

The clock tower estate of Oneiro had stood high on the hilltop for time immemorial, as long as the townsfolk could remember. The people in Ajax, Utah felt they’d feared it longer still. Something about that hill was unsettling and wrong. Maybe it was how isolated it was from the rest of the rolling plains of Utah that the city had been built on. Maybe it was the ugly natural path that twisted and turned like a snake as it led up to the top past long-dead rows of flowers. Maybe it was how every time you climbed up to the top of the hill, the wind would always, always bite at the back of your neck as if trying to sever your very head from its shoulders.

The estate built by the late William Ajax had been set up there to keep an eye on his once-great investment. The town had housed one of the greatest and largest department stores in the West, and Ajax had been able to create a fine little mansion with a tall clock tower at its core from the proceeds. This wasn’t a normal department store…all of it had been underground for easy access to the miners that lived there. It had worked great for decades until the mines evidently just ran dry. Now the place was primarily a ghost town…folks only really stayed because they felt there wasn’t anywhere else they could really go.

Now they were beginning to think their decision was slightly wiser ever since the alien continent of Equestria itself had arrived at Earth, and the barrier had begun to expand. This magical barrier transfigured and transformed all it touched, a barrier that humans couldn’t survive past. The only way to get through this barrier that was engulfing the world was to turn into one of the native inhabitants of Equestria…to become a pony and take a special potion.

Hence the need for Conversion Bureaus all across the globe, the Solar Regent Celestia had informed the world’s leaders. This was the solution. The only problem being that when you turned, your mind didn’t remain the same, your soul, your spirit, your heart wasn’t your own. It seemed to be a violation of people’s very being to force them to take the potion, yet that was what the “eternally compassionate” Celestia was advocating.

Now people just wanted to stay away from the barrier until something was done about it. The problem was that the few rumors that suggested others were fighting back and finding solutions were rare…and what kind of solution would be able to make right what had been made so terribly wrong? It was getting to a point where absolute despair was gripping the world. Where people would take any chance they have of escape.

And the townsfolk of Ajax knew that the pony who’d bought the abandoned estate of Oneiro was sympathetic to humans. In fact, he’d turned the place into a unique orphanage for any child who was lost…

But not all who wander are lost.

It happened on a lonely September night…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The human banged as hard as he could on the door to the dark grey estate, a single candle lit in a circular window to his right suddenly going out. Surely somebody had to be inside.

“OPEN THE DOOR! Please! Open the door!” He yelled out, his voice cracked and hoarse, his face pale and gaunt as he struggled to stay standing. “Please…open…the-”

Mercifully, his pleas were answered as the solid oak doors opened up and he stepped back, a pony with beautiful fur staring up at him, blue hair falling down around his face as the colt gave him a gentle smile. “Are you alright?” He softly inquired, looking the human over. His clothes were old and worn, and he smelled as if he’d been without a bath for weeks, the human’s panting, heaving breaths combined with his poor frame indicating he’d not eaten in some time.

“I-I need…I’m so hungry and…and I don’t have anywhere else to go.” The human muttered out, cringing as he wrapped his arms around his chest, the wind digging deep into him as the sympathetic stallion quickly let him inside, closing the door and cutting off the cold. The human’s deep green eyes glanced around his new surroundings, taking in the warm, cozy atmosphere that now greeted him, seeing several human women sitting by a table off in a hall across the way, sipping what appeared to be hot chocolate and eating sugar-covered Pizzelle.

“My new favorite Earth food.” The Earth pony admitted, his fur the color of the sky as the sun began to set in the evening, giving the human a bow as he gestured at the table, and a spare chair. The other humans all waved him over with cheery expressions, the human barreling towards the pizzelle, stuffing one into his mouth, almost coughing from the sugar intake but getting the tasty treat down with a few swallows. “It’s just so delightful, isn’t it? And I love hand-crafting the little designs I make in the pizzelle so they can hold more sugar in them like little trenches.” The pony added, trotting over to the table and pointing down at one, weaving a hoof about.

The paintings on the soft brown walls were slightly faded, but the beautiful imagery still shone through. There was heavy symbolism in them all, one showed Jesus transforming water into wine, another displayed the Beast’s majestic transfiguration into a man, a third was of a purple-furred pony suddenly gaining wings. Each of them seemed to emphasis a very positive change, and there was a sense of wonder and optimism that blazed out as brightly as a torch from each one. The floors were covered in soft velvet with curtains over the windows to match, and every chair had hand-stitched pillows of different shades of blue, to match the deep blue tables the newcomer was now eating from.

“Th-they’re very good.” The human managed to get out, taking in a few deep breaths before he finally sat down and began nibbling on another one, rather than simply stuffing it into his mouth so he could speak more easily to his benefactor. “I’m-I’m very sorry for intruding on you, but…I’ve been lost for weeks. I can’t remember my name, all I’ve got are the clothes on my back and I’ve been eating garbage out of people’s trash cans for so long.”

“Well, my name is Shinedown Tulamoon Mare.” Shinedown informed the human, putting a hoof on his chest, over the silver medallion that held the cloak he wore together as it glimmered brightly in the light of the many beautiful candles atop the room’s golden chandelier. “This is Oneiro, an estate I bought several years ago which I’ve converted into an orphanage.”

“It’s, well…really much nicer on the inside than I thought.” The human murmured as he glanced about, looking down at the pale blue plates the pizzelle laid on. “You seem to like the color blue quite a bit.”

“Oh, I LOVE the color blue, it’s a very divine color.” Shinedown remarked. “It’s representative of two things which seem to stretch on forever: the sky and the sea. Not to mention there’s so few blue animals in your world outside of the occasional bird or fish, so blue is a special color.”

“Mister Mare loves to brag about Oneiro, sir.” The long, brown-haired girl in a deep brown, green dress admitted, twirling a lock of hair in one finger before putting some of the hair in her mouth, chewing on it. “So I’d better stop him before he goes on a tangent. I’m Anna.” She said with a nervous smile, soft blue eyes twinkling. “The iceberg over there is Roxy.”

“Because she isn’t smiling?” The newcomer asked, the blackhaired beauty nonchalantly giving him a look up from the crossword she was doing, one leg crossed over itself revealing faded jeans and deep, piercing brown eyes behind the fringe of hair that fell over her forehead.

“I don’t have much to smile about. The Ajax Herald’s Crossword Puzzle is a bucket of balls and it always keeps me up at night trying to figure out what a six letter word for psychopath is.”

“Maniac?” The newcomer suggested, Roxy raising an eyebrow up and scribbling it into the crossword.

“I’ll be damned, it fits.” She mused aloud.

“Roxy doesn’t warm up easily, buddy. Don’t take it personally. I’m Lori.” The blonde of the group cheerily remarked, extending a slender hand that the newcomer took, looking her over. She had a slightly plain face, but quite dazzling wavy blonde hair and a very, very nice smile. Lori was the best-dressed of them all, wearing a sky-blue polo blouse which had a matching vertically-pleated skirt and high heels. She shook the newcomer’s hand and gave him a cheery bow of her head. “Been here for 8 months. Mr. Shinedown’s really nice.”

“Yeah, and his cooking is incredible!” The last of the young women there remarked, biting into a pizzelle and waving the sugar-coated treat in the air, her mouth stuffed up like a squirrel as she brushed some long, thick locks of reddish/brown hair out of the way. She had a plain tanned dress and shirt for her attire, with a little pocket on the front of her shirt which had a tiny, cute little cross medal stuck to it, which read “Catechist” in golden lettering.

“That’s an…interesting medal.” The newcomer admitted as he reached into the dark brown jacket he wore, taking out a small medal of his own. It resembled a chariot made of silver, twinkling in the light of the hall as he looked at Shinedown’s expression. The earth pony gazed at the chariot with an odd amount of interest as if transfixed. “I’ve had this the whole time. I THINK my parents might have given me this, it seems important…”

“My mom was all I had and when she died a few years back this was all I had left of her. I had to sell everything else.” The lass with the cross medal quietly admitted, her tone going from cheery to solemn and subdued, her faint Irish accent almost barely audible in her sorrow as she hung her head. “I still couldn’t pay the bills. If only ma hadn’t died with so much debt...”

“Luckily Tori here was welcome to stay in my orphanage. All those without parents are welcome, regardless of their age.” Shinedown insisted. “I had to grow up without my parents because of my blood.” He admitted quietly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m, uh…I’m an Inkblood.”

“A what?” The newcomer asked.

“He’s part Changeling.” Roxy spoke up with a slight snort. “Those ponies who look all buggy and can change their appearance. So I’m guessing all of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names.”

“Yes, they never let me join in any of their games. Being picked on for so long, you get both very compassionate…and very angry.” Shinedown muttered darkly. “I found a way to channel both!” He added with a slight sigh, hanging his head a little. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, ah…” He looked the newcomer over, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I’m sorry, you’re positive you don’t remember anything of your past life? Not even your name?”

“No, I…I don’t.” The newcomer sighed as he looked down at the medal in his hand. “I’ve got it!” He remarked, snapping his fingers. “Call me “Chariot”. It sounds impressive and important and mysterious.”

“Then welcome to Oneiro!” Shinedown proclaimed with a dramatic flourish and a sweep of his cape, laughing happily as he took Chariot’s hand and shook it with zeal. “You realize what this means, right girls? What he’ll get to be?”

Roxy sighed. “I’m not singing it.”

“Party-pooper.” Anna remarked, hopping up and whistling a few notes before the other girls rose up, and began to harmonize. “Be…our…guest, be our guest!”

The Chariot smiled. Somehow, he felt he was going to like it here.

…

…

…

…He didn’t know how long he’d been here, but he knew something wasn’t right when he realized he couldn’t quite feel his arms and legs. He had struggled desperately to try and move from wherever he was, but he was trapped, stuck on the cold steely table he’d somehow been strapped to, and utter darkness was clouding his vision.

A soft miasma of pale red light began to creep into the room from just beyond his vision as he squinted through the inky blackness, trying to figure out what was approaching him. Why was everything so hazy and blurry, what had his host slipped into-

He suddenly realized who it was and struggled to speak, mouth opening yet no words coming forth as his host gently patted him atop the head, holding his torch high with the other appendage as he looked mournfully down at him.

“I’m going to need you to be brave.” He softly informed the young man, putting the torch on the wall as he drew a small needle from off a nearby table.

“Wh…why can’t I move?” The human finally whispered aloud.

A sad, quiet sigh. “You’re dead, that’s why.”

“No. No, I’m not dead.”

“Yes.” His host insisted, his eyes beginning to turn black, his tone becoming softer…sweeter…sliding fluidly into his ears like water being poured. “Yes, you are. Why else would you be here?”

“I’m alive. I’M ALIVE.”

“You’ve been dead for three days.” His host cooed, piercing green gazing back into the young man’s eyes, the human trying to speak yet unable to find the words. “Now just relax. Try to think of the needle as your friend. You aren’t going to feel a thing.”

He tried to scream. The words wouldn’t come. His body was revolting against him as the needle slid smoothly into his skin and deep into his heart, those same piercing green eyes blazing back at him, that horrifying, tender little smile on his host’s face as he felt the fire spread. It surged from his heart, rising up from his chest and sweeping through his body as he finally looked down, seeing what had become of his legs…

And he started to scream.