How the Tantabus Parses Sleep

by Rambling Writer

First published 5th of January, 2019

The second Tantabus continues to grow, learn, and flourish. And maybe screw with certain ponies on the side.

What started with laziness and a tiny slip-up in arcane intelligence creation has blossomed into its own being. With Luna's blessing, the second Tantabus is free to flit around the dreamscape as it pleases, unburdened by oversight. And what pleases it is making good dreams. Who couldn't be happy by making others happy?

As the Tantabus settles into its life, its horizons keep expanding, forever revealing more of the world and of ponies. There's always new things to learn. New dreams to spice up. New nightmares to beat down. New ponies to help. New ponies to annoy.

Don't tell Luna about that last part.

Nightmares and the Deletion Thereof

You need not chase down nocnice, Mom had said. You are, as yet, too young and inexperienced, Mom had said. Leave such parasites to myself and focus on creating pleasant dreams for the time being, Mom had said.

Yeah, right. The Tantabus knew it had been created to make good dreams, not defeat the nightmare-causing beasties known as nocnice. But then, it had also been created to be a mindless arcane automaton, and that… hadn’t turned out the way Mom had planned it. What was the harm in trying to layeth down the smacketh upon nocnice?

So the second the Tantabus had spotted the vaguely equinoid shadow of a particularly tiny nocnica flitting out of a pony’s dream, it promptly gave as stealthy a chase it could muster (after setting right the damage the nocnica had done, obviously). It had to start dismantling nocnice eventually, and this one looked particularly pathetic, a good starting-off point. It probably didn’t even have enough dream energy yet for the complexity needed for proper inter-intelligence speechifying. The nocnica wasn’t far. Specifically, it was-

firstNocnica.updateStatus();

-half a brainstorm, a few ideas, and one stray thought ahead of the Tantabus and didn’t seem to have noticed its pursuer. It kept moving towards certain dreams, then drawing away as if repulsed by them, the same way responsibility repulsed Blueblood or zest and gourmands repulsed Zesty Gourmand.

“Where are you going, buddy?” the Tantabus whispered. “Where are you going?” Nocnice were attracted to the most potent sources of dream energy, those undergoing emotional turmoil. They’d stick those emotions in a metaphysical blender, purée them, and feast on the smoothie of confusion and despair that resulted. (The Tantabus preferred happiness, warm feelings, and giddiness, itself. Sadness and fear were lumpy and altogether much too chilly.)

Suddenly, the nocnica halted at one dream, paused, and plunged straight in. The Tantabus grinned to itself. “Gotcha. Good thing you’re hungry, ’cause you’re getting served.” This was going to be easy. The Tantabus briefly gave itself a set of fingers so it could crack its knuckles and dove in after the nocnica.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncns/surface?hexID=526172697479&lucid=n");

getDreamer();return:-- dreamer[name]: "Rarity"-- dreamer[desc]: SPECIES.Unicorn, SEX.Mare, COAT_COLOR.Light_Gray, [...]-- dreamer[interests]: "style", "fashion", "glamor", [...]-- [...]

Sitting unnoticed at an empty table in the corner, the Tantabus nudged up the brim of its wide straw hat and scanned the room. The establishment it found itself in was a western saloon about as stereotypical as one could imagine, but with an extra dose of fabulosity. Rather than drab earthen tones, every plank of wood a different bright color, every patron wearing a different magnificent outfit. Even better, it was all coordinated and immaculately crafted, rather than looking like a liquid changeling orgy had exploded in the room (“Liquid Changeling Orgy” would be a superb punk rock band name, the Tantabus thought). Ponies milled about, chatting indistinguishably. The piano player delicately plunked away at a smooth, flowing song in spite of the dramatic dress that probably ought to trip her up. The atmosphere was laid-back, the kind of place to kill a few hours in (but not ponies, as wasn’t uncommon for saloons).

But that all meant it was a place ripe for corruption by nocnice, such as the one hovering just behind the bartender. Ponies wouldn’t notice it even if they were lucid; they were on the wrong wavelength, or so Mom said. Being weak, the nocnica was only vaguely recognizable now, nothing more than a dark cloud of despair and angst. The Tantabus wanted to walk right up to it and drag it out of the dream, but Mom had said nocnice were reactionary. You had to wait for them to make the first move. Why that precluded walking right up to it and dragging it out of the dream, the Tantabus wasn’t sure, but Mom knew best.

At some strange behest of the dreamer’s subconscious, a waiter in an impressive wool poncho strode over to the Tantabus, grinning broadly. “Hello!” he said. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks,” said the Tantabus. “You and I are just figments of somepony else’s imagination.” In spite of all appearances, dream constructs like that weren’t self-aware in the slightest and technically didn’t even exist. Controlling their behavior was second-nature to the Tantabus. So, for fun-

ndc.feedLines(defaultLine);

The waiter sighed. “Dangit, not again. Time to rethink my weltanschauung.” He hurled himself through a window as the Tantabus kept its eyes on the nocnica. It reviewed the best ways to take nocnica down, trying to- Hold up…

ndc.undo();self.setRubberDuck(ndc);

The waiter hurtled back through the window, landing neatly in the chair opposite the Tantabus. “Alright, you’re my sounding board,” said the Tantabus. “I’m going to explain things to you to be sure I have them in order.”

“But I was existentially crisising out!” protested the waiter. “And what kind of method has you explaining things to someone who doesn’t exist?”

“My cousin-in-law calls it ‘rubber ducking’,” said the Tantabus. “When she’s got a problem troubleshooting a spell, she explains it step by step to a rubber duck, which somehow makes her smarter and lets her understand it.” It winked at the waiter. “At least you can talk back. You need a name. I stink at names, so how about ‘Placeholder’?”

“My name is not Placeholder!” bristled Placeholder.

“Shut up, Placeholder. Now, first, we wait, ’cause that little wuss over there-” A blinking neon sign appeared over the nocnica. “-needs to mess up the dream before I can fix it.”

Luckily for the Tantabus, nocnice weren’t slow. The first move was made in seconds; the nocnica tweaked the fabric of the dream, making the Tantabus cringe at how crude it was. Immediately, thunder boomed, leaving behind a dead silence in the saloon, with only the piano player plinking away and holding her head high (although she nervously fluffed her curls). A stallion staggered in from outside, raindrops of bleach (that worst of all fashion-related liquids) turning his clothes white. “He’s coming,” whispered the messenger. “He of Polyester and Nylon, the Plaid One.”

The entire room gasped as one. Waitresses swooned. Patrons shrieked. Babies wailed. Milk curdled. Beer soured. Paint peeled. Fabric paled. Placeholder snorted. “Overblown, isn’t this?”

“Hardly,” said the Tantabus. “This is normal. You need to get out more. But now that that loser’s done something…” It grinned, flexed its wings, and rubbed its hooves together. “Now, I need to get this dream to be awesome again, which, since it’s just a generic ‘baddie shows up and is mean’ dream, is super easy. No nightmares, no food for the nocnica, and then it’ll crawl away to die.”

“Nocnice are spirits,” said Placeholder. “They can’t die.”

“Mouthy little ducky, aren’t you? Yeah, okay, sure, but it sounds way better than ‘crawl away to subsist until it grabs enough stray dream energy to become sapient again’. Anyway, this is easy. I just need to give the dreamer some inspiration. Liiiike…” The Tantabus glanced to the piano player and slipped a little idea into her mind.

dreamer.inspire(DEFAULT);

“Fear not!” yelled the player. She whirled around and, against all odds and her extravagant dress, strutted into the center of the room, where she Posed. At once, a lightness filled the room, a sense that all would be right in the world, for who could deny the power within that Pose, or the unfettered astoundingness of the mare who performed it? To say her coat was pristine was to falsely imply it could ever be less than perfect. She knew her fashion not merely forward, backward, sideways, inside, and out, but in every possible dimension predicted by string theory and then some. Princess Celestia herself asked her for shampooing tips. Her name was a perfect descriptor, for she was… Rarity.

“Ooh, that’s good,” whispered Placeholder.

“Puh-lease. I’ve barely started yet.”

sp = new Spotlight();sp.aim(dreamer);

The Tantabus reached out and molded part of the dream on the upper balcony into a searchlight, directing it to aim at Rarity. She tossed her mane, nailing the absolutely perfect arc for sensuousness and desirability. The Tantabus helped her along by giving several stallions love-induced heart attacks; they collapsed with smiles on their faces.

Even the nocnica couldn’t miss tweaks to the dreamscape like that. It glared at the Tantabus, eyes narrowing to slits, hissing, only not at all because it didn’t have eyes or a mouth or much of a head at all. But it noticed the Tantabus and certainly disliked its turf being intruded upon, so if it had been able to, it definitely would’ve done those things. The Tantabus just smiled and waved. “It’s maaaaaaad,” the Tantabus whispered at Placeholder, who was nodding slowly. “Let’s keep going.”

“Good fashionistas and fashonistos of this fabulous city of Roja Muerta Moda!” said Rarity. “Do not let the tales of that… miserable miscreant, that devious dastard, that colorblind colt, that horrible hoodlum, that felonious fiend be a cause for dismay! For our sensibility is just! Our weave is strong! And our hats are very, very large.” And with that inarguable point, she Posed again. Somewhere, a baby giggled for the first time. “We shall weather the storm in our superb sarapes and peppy ponchos, and — most importantly of all — we shall look absolutely magnificent whi-”

A supporting column broke and the balcony collapsed, sending the Tantabus’s spotlight crashing down. Ponies yelped and Rarity’s monologue was cut short. The Tantabus hurriedly pushed some ideas into Rarity’s head to keep her talking. “Well,” she tutted, “really, I said we needed to get that fixed, didn’t I? Now, where was I? Ah! We shall look-”

“I think you done ----ed up,” whispered Placeholder. He stopped and blinked. “Wait, why the ---- can’t I say-”

But the Tantabus wasn’t listening anymore. That hadn’t been just a random action spat out by a brain in REM sleep. It’d felt the dream twitch; the nocnica had done something. Even though it shouldn’t have been able to know how to disrupt the dream. The Tantabus glared at the nocnica, still drifting aimlessly behind the bar. “I’m watching you,” it said, completely ignoring the fact that the nocnica wasn’t sapient enough yet to recognize the threat.

Right?

Suddenly, the nocnica streaked through the cracks in the walls. Half a ponderance later, somepony outside banged on the door, louder than nobles’ complaints in tax season. “¡Abre esta puerta!” the pony yelled. “¡Soy un tipo mal! ¡Y no tengo ni idea de lo que estoy haciendo!”

Ponies ran from the door, screaming, “The Plaid One!” Rarity Posed in front of the door and yelled, “Begone, blaggard! Or I shall give you the most magnificent mêlée you could ever imagine! I have knitting needles and I know how to use them!”

Placeholder chewed at his tongue and glanced back and forth between the door and the Tantabus. Realizing a way to seize control of the situation again, the Tantabus couldn’t hold back a grin. “This is where you need to get clever,” it whispered to Placeholder. “Kinda. Sorta. The nocnica’s probably got some terrible monster coming. Buuuuuut since whatever’s outside hasn’t been seen by Ms. Rarity yet, it hasn’t been set in stone…”

villain.set(bestPony);

The door was kicked in, ponies scattering like flies. When the dust settled, a large, powerful stallion was standing in the doorway, his face concealed by the low, wide brim of a nylon-trimmed hot pink hat. Around his body was wrapped a poncho of horrific design: plaid lime green and dark orange, all made up in the cheapest polyester imaginable. Good taste died in his wake, cotton shrank at his passing. “Hola, mis amigos,” said the pony. He raised his head, revealing a flowing ethereal black mane, crimson slit-pupiled eyes, and a most spectacular walrus mustache. “Yo soy Rey Sombrero.” He clapped his front hooves twice. “Olé.” Lightning cracked and thunder roared.

“You,” Placeholder said flatly, “are weird.”

The Tantabus scoffed. “Obvi. I work with dreams and normalcy’s way overrated.”

“Gasp!” gasped Rarity as everypony else managed to hide behind the bar at once. “Sombrero! The bandito of bad taste!”

Sombrero twirled his mustache most villainously. “Sí,” he said with a smirk, “tengo un papel que desempeñar en este sueño.”

“So, what?” asked Placeholder. “Aren’t you going to help this dream keep-”

“I wish,” muttered the Tantabus. It propped its chair back on two legs. “When you get down to the nitty-gritty, I’ve technically got less control over a dream’s climax than a writer does with their editor. If I just went and hijacked all this and took over the dreamer and everything, it’d be a bad dream, which…” It shivered and flexed its wings. “Now, all I can do is let the dreamer’s unconscious take over and plow through nightmares like a hot freight train through butter.”

“You may think your style impeccable,” declared Rarity, “but I assure you, you ruffian, that it shall be pecked most severely!” And then she Posed, Posed most gloriously. Generational blood feuds ended and extinct species returned to life. A herd of angels couldn’t have done it better.

Nothing happened to Sombrero, though.

“Pretty strong butter,” said Placeholder, smirking.

The Tantabus blinked. “W-well, uh…” If it could sweat, it would have. Something should’ve happened. If nothing did, the nocnica could feed. Maybe the dream needed some help. The Tantabus wove its magic into the fabric of the dream-

--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

-and flinched, shivering from horn to hoof, as the fabric refused to budge. Something was blocking its control, something that felt like- Uh-oh.

Sombrero villainously arched an eyebrow. “¿Qué estás haciendo?” he questioned. “No traduzcas esto. ¡Lee el cuento!”

“Ehm…” Rarity held her Pose, which meant it became nothing more than a pose. “This, ah, was supposed to work.”

Placeholder yawned. “Am I still helping? Shouldn’t you be explaining what to do to me?”

“Shutup shutup shutup,” hissed the Tantabus. Okay, it- it could do this. So- maybe the nocnica had locked down the dream. Somehow. Mom had never said anything about them being able to do that. So… what now?

Sombrero reached beneath his poncho, chuckling. “Sólo un obsesivo escondería tantos huevos de pascua,” he said. “Deja de animarlo.” Thunder boomed as he pulled out a tie, checkerboarded in dull gray and hot pink.

A wave of despair swamped the saloon. Rarity collapsed to the floor, futilely holding up a hoof. “No! No! Even you wouldn’t dare! Noooooooooo-oooo-oooo-ooooo…”

Take over the dream. Lesser of two evils at this point. The Tantabus hopped off its chair, walked up to Sombrero, and jabbed him in the shoulder. “Hey,” it said. “Hey. Dude. You’re going off-script.”

“Risas maldavo,” laughed Sombrero, waving the Tantabus away. “Tienes demasiado tiempo sobra tus pezuñas.” He ran the tie around his neck and tied it; Rarity writhed as if she’d been shot.

“No, seriously, you- Screw it.”

dream.delete(villain);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

A current of bad vibes and chilling thoughts rushed through the Tantabus, hitting so hard it staggered back from the fight, yet Sombrero didn’t budge. No no no… This wasn’t happening. How could tweaking dreams be this hard? Its only rival was a stupid little nocnica going after an easy target, which shouldn’t’ve been able to-

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

Wait a second…

The Tantabus walked back to Placeholder, rubbing a hoof through its mane as pieces started clicking into place. “Nocnice go after the most powerful sources of dreams,” it muttered. “I’m pretty much a pile of dream energy, so only bigger source of dreams is Mom. Maybe Aunt Celly, but she’s got like zero power in here, so I don’t think she counts. Dreams are my reality, and a nightmare is just a dream with a special label.”

It looked up at Placeholder. “So I’m not only in somepony else’s nightmare, I’m also in mine. Meta.”

A low voice rolled out of the dark corners of the dream, grating like claws on a chalkboard. “And here I was, thinking you might prove a remotely worthy foe. It would seem not.” Placeholder’s coat flaked off, revealing the nocnica underneath. Having enough energy to be fully sapient, it had taken on the form of a dark mirror of the Tantabus, as nocnice were wont to do. It critically examined the Tantabus with eyes that might as well have been black holes.

Well, booger. Not at all what the Tantabus had had in mind. But maybe it could scrounge some success out of this, now that it knew what it was up against. Maybe. The Tantabus looked the nocnica up and down and said, “You might be an emotion-eating sadist and have a schadenfreude streak two and a half miles wide, but at least you have fantastic taste in dreamers. You look good.”

And rather than the nocnica being even remotely rattled, it preened and said, “Of course I have fantastic taste. I can easily spot the most vulnerable targets.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” the Tantabus said. But dread was already settling in whatever passed for its stomach. “You do know who I am, yeah?” The nocnica had played its emotions like a fiddle. “Apprentice of Princess Luna, who’s probably already beaten you like a dozen times?” A well-maintained fiddle, too, with all the ease of oiled strings. “And I’ve been learning under her literally my entire life, chump.”

“You have, have you?” The nocnica chuckled. “I am ashamed her standards have slipped so low. You couldn’t even properly assess my power. You had to call in the assistance of a pony’s subconscious for review. How can you hope to combat me?” It glanced at Sombrero, who was attempting to strangle Rarity with his tie. “I have already won this pony’s emotions. You have failed. She shall soon wake up and I shall move to the next pony, stronger than before, while you shall still be as helpless as ever.”

“Helpless?” the Tantabus attempted to scoff. “I’m as helpless as a- fish in a- river.” And it promptly mentally smacked itself for making one of the worst, most on-the-nose metaphors in history. Scrambling for words wasn’t a good thing when claiming you weren’t helpless.

The nocnica shook its head. “I refuse to even dignify that with a response. Accept it,” it whispered in the Tantabus’s ear, “you know a few cantrips, adequate for creating short-lived fluff, nothing more. Your shallowness is such that it makes evaporated puddles seem oceanic. Do you have any option, any at all, beyond shaming yourself by running to Mommy Moon?”

protest();

“S-sure I do!” blurted the Tantabus. “I can- I…” Its wings twitched. “I just need…”

--Error; NullPointerException e

But nothing came. Something in the nocnica’s argument had to be wrong. The Tantabus had to have something it could do. Yet nothing came. What was it thinking, chasing down a nocnica with zero preparation? Nothing it had done had helped.

“You are as aggravating as dirt and not nearly as useful,” sneered the nocnica. “You know nothing beyond which you have been told. You shall always be nothing more than the moon’s dog, heeding her every whim. And when she is done with you, she shall-”

“Wait, wait, hang on,” said the Tantabus. “Could you, um, repeat that?” It tried to sound nonchalant, but this was really nothing more than a desperate attempt to derail the nocnica’s train of thought. Mom had said something about non-sequiturs making nightmares less frightening. Maybe.

The nocnica paused, but soon shook it off. “You shall always be the moon’s dog, heeding her-”

“Yeah, that. Moondog. Sounds pretty cool.” Thank goodness something was pretty cool in this situation.

“You… enjoy bei-”

“The words themselves, I mean. Say it!” The Tantabus flared its wings wide. “Moondog. Got a lotta oomph in it, dontcha think? It’s a nice trochee.” Now that it was actually talking, the words came easier.

“…What? You-”

“A trocheeeeeeeee. A poetic meter consisting of a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed one, ob-vi-ous-ly. Opposite of an iamb. Did you know that ‘trochee’ is trochaic and ‘iamb’ is iambic?” The Tantabus sighed. “But they’re the only ones that follow that rule. I mean, ‘amphibrach’ is dactylic, for crying out loud!”

The nocnica simply stared at the Tantabus, as if its psychological deconstruction getting interrupted by a ramble on poetic meter was something strange and unusual. The entire saloon brightened a few shades and Sombrero’s tie snapped as the nocnica’s control slipped.

And then the Tantabus knew what to do.

“But really,” the Tantabus continued, “trochees sound awesome. Like Batmare. Princess Luna. Pony. Nightmare. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“…You th-”

notify(self.getThoughts(), new Idea());

“Oh! And Spider Sinew and Liquid Changeling Orgy!” Rarity suplexed Sombrero through a table — and, more importantly, unwove the atrocity that was his tie.

“I fail to see how this matters.”

“It doesn’t, not really,” the Tantabus said with a shrug. “But it’s the simple things like that that make life worth living even in the face of an absolute disaster, you know? Thanks for reminding me!” It smiled, making sure light glinted off its teeth with a ting.

The nocnica had a terrific poker face, but a terrible poker storm; the tempest outside vanished in an instant. “This… This is irrelevant!” it spat. “You are rambling, attempting to cover up your own inadequacies with pointless trivia!”

The Tantabus chuckled. “You’re just jealous because I, unlike you, am really, really, really ridiculously good-looking. I mean, you look like me, not the other way around.”

self.setStatus(SMUG.Very);

“You judge me by appearance?” snapped the nocnica as Sombrero’s polyester began melting in the radiance of Rarity’s latest mighty Pose. “To say one of us is greater or lesser than the other based on how we look is absurd.”

“Oh, sure. In the real world. But this ain’t the real world, is it?” The Tantabus looked up at the ceiling and exaggeratedly tapped its chin. “I mean, it’s not like, unbound by physical laws, we can completely reshape our OH WAIT. But all that existence available, and you’re copying me. What kind of wimpy nightmare spirit are you?”

Deprived of fear, its source of sustenance gone, the nocnica was shrinking slowly. When it spoke, its voice sounded like it was coming out of a tin cup. “I do not need such capabilities!” it protested. “Ponies themselves provide me with their own fears, the tools for their own despair! I twist their perceptions so thoroughly they barely recognize themselves!”

“And that’s all you ever do. Yeah, maybe I am shallow. Yeah, maybe I am terrible at confronting nocnice. Yeah, maybe I do need to call for Mommy. But you know what? I’m learning. Come back in a year. By then, kicking nocnice’s butts and taking names will be so boring and banal for me that I won’t even recognize you as my first failure. And you?” The Tantabus flexed its wings and smirked. “You’ll be the same pathetic parasitic peripatetic pansy you’ve always been.”

self.isOnARoll();return: TRUE

By now, the nocnica was visibly decohering, but it still had some small scrap of smarts. It clawed at the Tantabus, forcing itself into its face. “You shall never be free of me. No matter how many times you kill me, I’ll be waiting at the sidelines, prepared for you to slip up, and when you do, I’ll-”

firstNocnica.shutDown();

“Yeah? Then I will never stop killing you. If I catch a whiff of you, I’ll burn you so hard you could be served up at a five-star griffon restaurant! I’ll pound you so hard your remains will be finer than glitter! I’ll censor you so hard, you’ll never even be thought of again!” The Tantabus shoved a hoof in what remained of the nocnica’s face and easily pushed it away. “Now make like a fruit hater and diss a pear.”

The nocnica keened — the limit of its remaining abilities — and vanished at the same time Rarity dropkicked Sombrero out of the saloon. “And could you come back tomorrow, dearie?” Rarity asked. “We have some poor, underprivileged designers who still need to own you!”

The Tantabus assumed that, ordinarily, this part would involve mopping up the damage the nocnica had done. Whether because this had all taken place in its own “dream” or because Rarity herself had done a fine mopping-up job, there wasn’t anything to do. The Tantabus pushed the backdrop of the saloon away, returning to the collective unconscious. Giddy as a goose and not caring that the comparison made no sense, the Tantabus reared and yelled, “Ha! Take that, nocnica! Take that, Mom’s disbelief in me!”

Mom. She’d want to know about this. Well, considering how she’d reacted to the Tantabus saying it wanted to take on nocnice, probably not. Then she ought to know, so she had a clear idea of what the Tantabus could do. How much to actually tell her, though? Particularly, the Tantabus wondered how she’d react to it being called “the moon’s dog”. That was probably a bit much. It’d leave that part out.

Although, Moondog actually was a pretty good name…

self.setName("Moondog");

Moseying through the dreamscape in Mom’s general direction, Moondog whistled a light and bouncy tune.

Back when Mom was creating Moondog and it was just supposed to be a oneiroturgic machine, she’d put a tracking spell in it, so she’d always know where to find it, in case things got out of hoof. After it had gained self-awareness, Moondog had poked the spell, fiddled with it, and made a reversed duplicate of it, ensuring that it could always find Mom. At least until Mom had explained that poorly-done tracking spells could draw the attention of the one being tracked, which was probably why she’d had a migraine for the past few nights while in the dream realm. She’d removed Moondog’s shoddy copy and patiently explained to it how to work the spell properly. She’d said Moondog’s skills lay in dream manipulation, not straight-up magic, and you shouldn’t expect to get a spell like that on the first try anyway, so stop looking so forlorn and quit whining, young tulpa.

Anyway, the point was that Moondog knew precisely where Mom was, which dream she was in, at all times. Distance not truly existing in the mindscape, Moondog found its way to the relevant dream in seconds. As it approached the dream door, Moondog worked on what it’d say to Mom to dispel her objections. She was always overcautious, acting like Moondog wasn’t even a year old. Which, okay, it technically wasn’t, but it was totally mature mentally. At least, that was what it told itself.

brainstorm();

“‘Hey, Mom? I’d like to mount the head of this nocnica on the wall, so I’ll need-’ Too complicated. Really wished walls stayed existing out here. And I don’t have its head, anyway. ‘Mom, remember how you said I should avoid nocnice? Well, one thing led to another, and-’ No, no, you’re proud of this. Don’t make it sound like an accident. ‘You know, Mom, assessing my nocnica-fighting skills is like determining the growing sapience of an arcane machine, in that you suck at it.’ Oh, sheesh, that’s terrible. ‘Just so you know, Mom, I-’ Don’t make it sound too casual. She knows when you’re making junk up.”

Getting formed from the thoughts and mind of a physical pony meant Moondog had inherited a lot of physical-pony habits and mannerisms, so it flexed its wings to work out nonexistent crinks in nonexistent joints and psych itself up as it looked the dream door up and down. Finally, it decided to just rip the metaphorical band-aid off and yanked the door open. “Hey, Mom!” yelled Moondog. “Guess what!”

And then it froze.

Mom was standing next to a nervous colt in a distorted school hallway, whispering words of encouragement into his ear and nudging him forward. At the other end of the hallway, a crowd of ponies, not much older than the colt, was assembled. They were hazy and indistinct, more ideas than dream entities. Although their voices didn’t say any distinguishable words, it was impossible to miss their mocking tone.

But it was the… stuff behind the crowd that attracted Moondog’s attention. Much like nocnice, it was just out of phase with the rest of the dream and nearly unnoticeable to regular ponies. It was a colorless (not black, colorless) mass of thoughtstuff larger than a dozen mental blocks or a childhood of suppressed memories. Its tendrils were entwined with the bodies of the ponies in the crowd, distorting them, rending their voices, making them twitch spasmodically. Moondog knew what it was; something of a cross between a nocnica and an arcane chemical reaction, it was mindless and yet corrupted dreams into nightmares simply by existing within them, growing through fear all the while. Formally, Mom called it Nonsapient Oneirophagic Parasitic Essence.

Moondog just called it what it was: NOPE. And that dream had so much NOPE.

self.setStatus(NOPE.Nope);self.activatePanicMode();exit(1);

“Nope,” it said, and slammed the door shut. “Nope nope nope.” It pressed itself against the door to hold it closed, even though that didn’t actually mean anything. “Nope nope nope nope nope.”

And yet Mom hadn’t looked the least bit concerned. Every now and then, Moondog received a rather intense wakeup call that, no matter how good it was at manipulating dreams (very), Mom was better. Much better.

while (self.isScared()) {    self.hide();    wrestle(self.getEmotionalState());}self.deactivatePanicMode();

After five long seconds of panic-moding out (or maybe five short hours; time was always fluid in dreams), Moondog managed to calm its racing thaumic circulator, or at least force it to a slower cycle. Okay. No pressure. It wasn’t like there was something on the other side of the door capable of draining the very essence that made up its life, consciousness, existence, and sapience. Nope. No NOPE. Moondog just had to go in there, nudge Mom on the shoulder, and-

Mom coalesced out of the space in front of Moondog, eyebrows slightly raised. “I thought I heard you,” she said. “Is everything fine?”

“Hi!” squeaked Moondog. “I wanted to talk, but I thought you’d longer. Be linger. Be longer! That was an awful lot of NOPE, wasn’t it?”

“The simplest of obstacles are often the cause of the greatest of anxieties when one is young, and oneirophagic essences are drawn to those anxieties. Dispelling it was a simple matter of convincing the young one to confront his fears directly — a lack of friends at a new school, in this instance — and see that they were not as great as he thought them to be.”

understand(momSpeech);return: FALSE

The psychology flew over Moondog’s head with a whoosh. “Um. Okay.”

Mom eyed Moondog the same way a teacher would eye a student who, though intelligent, was prone to stuffing crayons up her nose because it was funny. “You have great skill at sculpting dreams, but thus far, most of your achievements have been surface-level. As you grow older, you must confront the apprehension behind boogeymares in addition to the boogeymares themselves.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll try that.” Whoosh.

Mom still disapproved, but abandoned the matter. “Now, then. You had something you wished to tell me?”

Moondog thought about the little nocnica it’d vanquished. About the huge amount of NOPE Mom had vanquished. Little nocnica. Lots of NOPE. Little nocnica. Lots of NOPE.

Yeah, no way that was impressing Mom.

self.setStatus(SHEEPISH.Kinda);

Moondog forced a smile. “I, uh, chose a name.”

Robbery, He Dreamed

Wild Garden paced back and forth over and over and over. This was it. By this time tomorrow, he and the ponies he worked with would be stinking rich, once their robbery was through. “So,” he said to the four other ponies in the room, “let’s go over this one more time.”

“Again?” protested Luster. “We’ve been over this so many times, you’ll be reviewing it in your sleep.”

“Which will mean,” Garden said, his wings flaring, “that we’ll know it all perfectly, so we won’t be able to forget it!”

“Ufh. Fine,” Luster said, rolling her eyes. She gave her white, diamond-collared cat one last pat and stood up. “Just before noon tomorrow, we’ll go to the First Canterlot Bank. I’ll get in line and threaten the clerks.” A few sparks flew from her horn.

“Right, right,” said Garden. “Safe Deposit?”

Safe Deposit smirked and twirled his mustache. “At the same time, you and I will round up the customers as hostages. It will be easy. They will be weak, cowards, trembling before us. Our will shall be their law, our whims their actions!” His threw back his head and cackled, delivering some killer bass.

“Cool your megalomania, that’s not good if the guards manage to surround us. And Wheel Well?”

“I’ll be sitting outside with the carriage, waiting for you to come out so we can leg it,” said Wheel Well in a tired voice from her place on the ceiling. “Look, I know I’m just sitting there, can we please skip my-”

“Excellent, excellent. Luster?”

“I’ll get the key from…”

They went down the list, one item at a time. Garden was pleased at it all, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was a little bit off. Oh, well. Probably just nerves. They’d go away once he was actually robbing the place. “And, finally, Wheel Well?”

“I’ll be sitting outside with the carriage, so that once you pile in, we can leg it,” said Wheel Well in a voice so bored it was practically a tunnel. “Or I can leg it, since I’m the one pulling the stupid-”

“And we’re done!” Garden said with a grin. “So, now that- Hold on. I’m sorry, what were you supposed to do, again?” he asked of the fifth pony in the room. The starry alicorn hadn’t said anything yet and kept scribbling stuff down on her sheet of paper.

“Hmm?” said the alicorn, looking up. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just an artificially-created dream construct made to spread good dreams listening in on your dreamed-up conversation to learn your plans and keep you from robbing the bank while tweaking your subconscious to keep you from becoming lucid. Not important. Nope. Move along. Nothing to see here.”

Seemed legit. “Excellent,” Garden said, rubbing his hooves together. “We all know our parts, and-”

The alicorn spoke up. “Well, actually, quick question. Sorry, dude, but could you repeat that? Like, all of it? I’m recording this for posterity, and giving a step-by-step plan of your robbery would be really helpful.” She tapped the paper with her pencil meaningfully.

“Absolutely, Stranger I Don’t Recognize!” said Garden cheerfully. “From the top! Luster?”

“Again?” protested Luster. “We’ve been over this so many times, you’ll be reviewing it in your sleep.”

“Which will mean,” Garden said, his wings flaring, “that we’ll know it all perfectly, so we won’t be able to forget it!”

“Ufh. Fine,” Luster said, rolling her eyes. She gave her white, diamond-collared cat one last pat and stood up. “Just before noon tomorrow, we’ll go to the First Canterlot Bank. I’ll get in line and threaten the clerks.” A few sparks flew from her horn.

“Right, right,” said Garden. “Safe Deposit?”

Safe Deposit smirked and twirled his mustache. “At the same time, you and I will-”

“Wait, this is like super inefficient,” interrupted the alicorn. “Why don’t you just show me?” She pushed down all the walls like they were on hinges. The group was left standing in the middle of an empty Canterlot street. In front of them stood the First Canterlot Bank, all white and gleaming and shiny and very, very, rich. A stagehoof adjusted the sun for maximum glint-off-lamppost-ness and said, “You’re on in one, ponies!” The alicorn pulled up a smooshy armchair not far from the entrance and watched them with interest.

“Oooo, good idea,” Garden said to nopony in particular. “Why didn’t we think of a rehearsal?”

“Oh, yes,” muttered Wheel Well, “because standing in one place strapped to a carriage is soooo haaaard.” She started gnawing on the carriage harness in frustration.

But as the rest of his group walked up to the bank, the feeling that something was wrong came back to Garden. It crept up his spine and down his ribs. It did a little tapdance on his neck. And when he opened the door to find almost a dozen photographers taking pictures of him, he realized just what was going on. Garden’s eyes widened as he turned to the starry alicorn in horror.

“Oh! Your costumes! Here.” The alicorn tossed over their masks, black-and-white striped shirts, and burlap sacks marked with the bit sign on them. Garden sighed in relief. Nothing was wrong anymore.

Staff Sergeant Iron Phalanx suddenly knew he was dreaming because, as much as he liked to think otherwise, there was no way he could survive punching out a two-ton dragon while the two of them were plummeting from a Manehattan skyscraper.

“Cream is for chumps!” the dragon screeched again, and swiped at him.

“Cream is for those with self-confidence!” Phalanx yelled again. He dodged the swipe and dropkicked the dragon into a busy office building, where it plowed through several stories. But they were full of lawyers, so that was okay.

Phalanx looked down at the rapidly-approaching street. He could’ve opened his wings and flown away, he knew, but part of him wanted to see how this would play out. He couldn’t remember any falling dreams of his own. He’d wake up before he hit the ground, right?

Technically. He simply transitioned from “falling” to “standing on the ground” with no in-between state. He pulled his wings tight and stood up straight. He wasn’t usually lucid, so Luna must want him for something. What sort of something? He had no idea. But he’d heard that she sometimes contacted guards in their sleep when she wanted them for something important without making a scene. Or maybe he was just making stuff up. Probably the latter.

Unfortunately, the alicorn that slipped out of space and onto the pavement in front of him was not Luna. It was too small, too androgynous, too hole-in-the-air-looking. Phalanx’s jaw tightened. He’d heard the stories going around the castle, and while he was glad Luna had some assistance in what had once been a lonely, underappreciated task, he’d hoped to never have to interact with some… body that erratic.

Moondog shook itself down and turned to him. “Um, uh, hi, sir.” It waved. “You know who I am, right?”

“Yes,” Phalanx said tautly. “Moondog. Luna’s… tulpa.” Getting interrupted from beating up a dragon wasn’t doing wonders for his temper.

“Okay. Alright, so, uh…” It clopped its hooves together and grinned nervously. “Do I, uh, qualify as royalty? I mean, Cadance is royalty and I’m more Luna’s kid than she is and I’ve kinda got an order I want to give you but I don’t wanna give it if I don’t have any authority, sooooooo…”

“Let’s suppose you do,” said Phalanx. “What would that order be?” He tried to keep his voice level, but given Moondog’s reputation, he wasn’t looking forward to whatever order it might give.

“Bring over a squad of plainclothes guards and be at the First Canterlot Bank over your lunch break. You’ll catch a group of would-be bank robbers led by a guy named Wild Garden.”

Phalanx waited. Moondog didn’t continue. “…And?...”

“And what?” Moondog flapped its wings. “That’s it. Bank robbery. First Canterlot Bank. You stop it. Feather in your helm. What more do you want? Me to do a song and dance routine explaining it?” It twirled its cane and adjusted its top hat. “ ’Cause, I mean, I can, but those’re hard and it’ll take a few seconds to set up.”

Phalanx blinked. That… wasn’t unreasonable. If Luna had been the one giving it, he’d have followed it in a heartbeat. “Well,” he said, filling the space as he thought, “I was, um, just… surprised that…”

“You thought I was gonna order you to do something like dance through Thymes Square in roller skates, a rainbow wig, and a shirt that says ‘You’re With Stupid’, right?”

“Ehm…” Phalanx tried looking away, only to find Moondog was already there. “I… just…”

Moondog snorted in amusement. “Look, I’m not that fickle. If I’m royalty, I’m never gonna give you an order without a good, solid reason. I mean, I can control dreams and I can’t see the physical world. If I order you to do something, either it’d be faster for me to just do it myself-” (Behind it, a duplicate of Phalanx with said wig and said shirt skated by, shrieking, “You are my candy giiiiirl!”) “-or I wouldn’t see the results. And if I do, just complain about it to Mom and she’ll set me straight. No, seriously. No offense to Mom, but she wasn’t all that interested in things like ‘tact’ and ‘social skills’ when she filled this up-” It tapped the side of its head. “-’cause I wasn’t supposed to be sapient, so I’ve got a buttload of stuff to learn.”

“Uh-huh,” Phalanx said vaguely, nodding. Generally speaking, individuals taking insults in stride was a good sign. He held his breath and probed the waters. “So… bank robbery?”

“Oh, I swear to Mom, yeeeeees,” Moondog said with a groan, “bank robbery, First Canterlot Bank, that’s what I said, like, twice already. Right here.” It yanked down a map of Canterlot from thin air and jabbed a hoof at the point labelled First Canterlot Bank, Idiot. “Look, if it’ll help you remember, the song and dance is still open-”

“And you just… happened to find this from a pony’s dream?” Phalanx squinted at Moondog. “Are you spying on ponies?”

“I’m not usually,” Moondog said, gesturing vaguely, “but there was this one pony who was having anxiety dreams, then it turned out his anxiety dreams were because he’s robbing a bank tomorrow, so I kinda dug through his head to find his plans so the Guard could foil them, and-” It shook its head. “Look, that’s not important. Bank robbery. You stop it. That’s important. M’kay?”

“I…” Phalanx could feel his brain attempting to shift out of the gung-ho “I JUST BEAT UP A MOTHER-DUCKING DRAGON” state and into the “I have a job I need to do” one. It didn’t help that he was casually chatting with a hole in the sky that was smaller than him and sounded not dissimilar to his daughter. He cleared his throat, pulled his wings tight, and stood up straight. “If you have any other inte- information,” he said, “that would be much appre-”

“Well, the leader was dreaming of their last meeting, and I’ve got the transcript.” Moondog reached out and scooped a scroll from nothingness. “You want the transcript?”

Phalanx had never, ever, ever dreamed of getting any information this easily (until now, anyway). His wings quivered as decorum deserted him and he leapt forward with a, “Gimme!” He snatched the parchment and unrolled it in his magic, levitating it inches from his muzzle. He began skimming the scroll, reading the names of the robbers, their plans, their-

He had magic? He gingerly poked at the area above his forehead and twitched when he felt a horn. His horn, which hadn’t been there moments ago. He blinked and raised an eyebrow at Moondog.

“What?” Moondog shrugged. “It’s easier for you this way.”

“Well, I- Thank you.” Phalanx shielded his face behind the scroll. “And thanks for the warning.” He was partly feeling ashamed of himself, but who could’ve guessed that a being made of fluff and good vibes had any sort of sense of civic duty, let alone the proactivity to do anything with it?

“Sure thing. Now, I need to get going, but you want anything else?” asked Moondog, lightly nudging the scroll aside. “And I mean absolutely literally anything else? Deep-sea swimming off your personal yacht? Sipping maregaritas on your own private island? Rule over Equestria? Bagels and coffee with cream and sugar?”

“No thank you,” said Phalanx quickly. “I really should just read this without any distractions.” Like he’d ever hear the end of it if he fudged a personal assignment from Princess Luna’s… daughter because he wanted to go mountain climbing. “Although,” he added, “if I can make a suggestion, you might want to work on your entrance.”

But Moondog just laughed. “Big entrances are for ponies who’d leave no impression otherwise. You don’t want to turn heads because you’re making smashes and crashes and big flashy flashes. You want to turn heads because you’re you.”

Phalanx moved the scroll aside and raised an eyebrow. “…Are you just saying that because you need to work on your entrance?”

The entire world shook as Moondog got in his face and thundered, “NO.”

“Of course you’re not,” Phalanx said vaguely. “Also, you’re in my way.”

“Right, right,” scowled Moondog. It took a step back, but didn’t stop glaring at Phalanx.

“But you know,” Phalanx said as he went back to the scroll, “Princess Luna turns heads because she’s Princess Luna and she’s good at-”

Moondog’s voice sounded like a woodchipper. “Gotta get going good luck adios amigo.” It saluted and vanished. Phalanx didn’t look up.

“What a strange fellow,” said the lightning-warhammer-wielding dragon behind Phalanx. “You look busy. Should I come back tomorrow?”

“Probably,” said Phalanx. “This’ll take a while and I don’t want to be distracted.” Conveniently, pictures of each robber were included next to their names.

“Fine. I’ll be at Pequod’s when you need me. Taking my coffee without sugar, wuss.”

“Heathen!” Phalanx yelled as he committed the robbers’ descriptions to memory.

Some part of pop-culture investigative journalist Coranto’s mind recognized she shouldn’t be interviewing Blueblood in a greasy spoon staffed by monsters in space. The rest of her didn’t care. She couldn’t remember any of the questions she’d asked, or any of the answers she’d gotten, only that it’d been a good interview. She clicked her tongue and bounced the pen on the tabletop. “And I think that’s it,” she said, flipping her notebook shut. “Thank you for your time.”

“I hate you with the fiery intensity of a thousand of Aunt Celly’s butts,” glowered Blueblood.

Coranto nodded. “Understandable. So, what did you think of the place?”

“Horrid,” said Blueblood, his nose in the air. “The room reeks of fats, the food is prepared in a rush, it’s not even good when it arrives, the decor is trite, and I swear, if I hadn’t tipped our waiter, he would’ve eaten my head off. You saw those teeth on that timberwolf, yes?”

“And such a loss that would’ve been,” Coranto said sympathetically. It really would’ve; Blueblood stories made up over a quarter of her output during his more well-behaved months.

“I suppose it could be worse,” said Blueblood, staring at a stain on the table. “You could be interviewing my cousin the Tantabus. You’ve met them, yes? Such a smart, pretty, clever, funny, and all-around awesome tulpa, don’t you think? So much cooler than me.”

Coranto blinked. Coughed. It looked like Blueblood was sitting in front of her, but when he was saying things like that… “Um… Tantabus?”

Blueblood looked up with a grin that, most uncharacteristically of him, had something in the vein of charisma. “Ooo, only thirty seconds to know it was me. Nice,” said Blueblood. Said the Tantabus. “Faster than anypony else yet. Except for Mom, but, well, yeah. Oh, and just FYI, the name’s Moondog, now.”

Coranto sighed. Not again. “Look. I didn’t do it. I don’t know what you think I did, but I didn’t do it.”

“You ain’t really helping your case that way, y’know,” the Tantabus — Moondog? — said with a smirk. It kept using Blueblood’s body and voice, and Coranto’s brain churned as it tried to match those informal words with that formal pony, even though she knew it was actually that informal… dream… thing… pony… thing.

“Well, I didn’t!” yelled Coranto as she banged her hooves on the table. “I stayed away from Luna, just like you said, and I wasn’t thinking of sta-”

Just like that, the words had stopped coming out of her mouth. She stopped and tried yelling again. “Why can’t I say anything?!” No noise. She dropped back onto her chair and glared. Moondog smirked again. Stupid dream controllers.

The smirk, or at least the smugness, dropped from Moondog’s (Blueblood’s?) face. “Seriously, though,” it said in a lower voice. “I know you didn’t do anything. I’m not here for that. I’m here to give you something you’ll actually like, okay?” It waved a hydra over for pancakes.

Coranto rolled her eyes. “I find that ha- I still can’t say anything,” she said.

“Whup! Sorry,” said Moondog, cringing. It didn’t move and its horn didn’t glow. “There you go. You should be good.”

“But you didn’t do anything!” protested Coranto. “You j-” She stopped and blinked. “Testing,” she said. “Testing. 1, 2, 3.”

“4, 5, 6,” said Moondog, grinning, “7, 8, 9, 10-”

“How are you doing that?” asked Coranto. “Changing dreams without using magic, I mean.”

Moondog coughed exaggeratedly. “Besides this being, y’know, a dream, there’s the itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny matter of me not being a pony and not bound by your rules. I do use magic, just not the same way ponies do.” Over the course of a blink, Blueblood was replaced by Whatshisface, Discord. “Would you prefer this as a not-pony reminder?” Moondog asked in Discord’s voice. Another blink and Moondog was a huge minotaur with a tiny necktie. “Or this?”

Coranto flinched and pushed herself back in her seat. Shapeshifting of any sort freaked her out. The idea of someone not being at all who they looked like was… ugh. “C-can you just be… the you you were when I met you? Th-that’d be enough.”

Minotaurs were not supposed to pout like that, especially not when they had biceps bigger than their heads. “Awwww. You’re no fun.” Moondog wiped down its body with a napkin, erasing it like it was a drawing on an invisible three-dimensional chalkboard and revealing the old small star-bodied alicorn beneath. “This better?”

Still shivering a little, Coranto swallowed and said, “Good.”

Moondog nodded. “Alright. Listen. For real this time. Go to the First Canterlot Bank tomorrow at just before noon, okay? Stuff’s gonna go down, and it’s gonna be great for a story.”

Any shapeshifter-induced anxiety was drowned beneath the flood of a good story. “Yeah?” Coranto asked, smiling. “Such as…?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.” Moondog smirked. “Specifically, n onax eboorel. Come on, I can’t spoil it, now, can I?”

“You…” Coranto wanted to be infuriated, but now she was just surprised she hadn’t seen this coming sooner. She swallowed. “P-please?” she forced out. “It would he-”

“Nope! Oh, cool it with looking like you ate a bug.” Moondog snatched some Prench toast from a passing maulwurf and devoured it in an instant. “Really, I promise you. It’s gonna be totally sweet and the surprise’s gonna make it better. Besides, what’ve you got to lose besides a lunch break?”

“You don’t know how valuable lunch breaks are! They’re my only me time in my work day!”

“C’mon, it’s ooooone lunch break,” wheedled Moondog. “It’s only a few blocks from your office, and it’ll be fun! You’ll be surprised and the only ponies getting their faces plastered all over your anomic papers are the ones who deserve it.”

Moondog’s smile was surprisingly disarming, earnest and friendly. If it’d been a real pony, Coranto would’ve believed them in a heartbeat. “Well, I- I need a moment to think.”

“Sure.” Moondog pulled a chocolate milkshake from the air, leaned back in the booth, and started slurping it down. “Take your time,” it said, gazing at the diner’s clientele.

One lunch break. Just one. That couldn’t be that valuable, right? It wouldn’t even take any other time out of Coranto’s day besides her lunch break. Ten minutes’ walk from her building to the bank, and she knew a nice cafe right outside it. Part of Coranto wanted to say that Moondog was still stringing her on about the whole Luna thing, but making her take a walk during her lunch break for no reason was such a laughably petty revenge that even Coranto wouldn’t be caught doing something like that.

Deep breath. Okay. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Moondog tossed its milkshake away. “Really, you won’t regret it. It’ll be awesome.”

“So, uh,” said Coranto, “why are you doing this? I mean, yeah, thanks, but…”

Moondog rubbed the back of its neck and looked away. “Weeeeellllllllll, I… kinda went overboard when we met. I’m supposed to make good dreams, and that wasn’t a good dream, so I felt guilty and told Mom about it, and she… gave me a bit of a dressing-down.” It folded its ears back, and Coranto knew she’d never see such a regal alicorn looking this sheepish again. “Yeah, you, uh, needed to know I was real so you’d stop pestering Mom, but there were better ways of doing that than going skydiving when you hate heights. So I’m sorry, and you can consider this a belated ‘Sorry Our First Impression Involved Me Antagonizing You Too Much’ present.”

“I might need to borrow that idea.”

“Might? Borrow? You definitely need to buy that idea.” Moondog leaned over the table and snarled, “But don’t think it lets you off the hook about Mom.”

But Coranto had adjusted to the dream and didn’t flinch. “You could dull your teeth a little. When they’re that sharp, it looks like you’re trying too hard.”

“Does it?” Moondog pulled down the shades of the window, which had turned into a mirror. As Coranto pondered why she had a killer mohawk, Moondog examined its teeth. “Huh. Kinda, yeah.” It peeled the sharpness from its teeth and flicked the mirror back up. “Still-”

“I won’t bother Luna again,” Coranto recited like a tired student. “Yes, I know that.”

“Must you drain all the fun from melodrama?”

“Considering it’s always at my expense, yes.”

Moondog rolled its eyes. “Anyway, that’s the sitch, so: later, hater.” It saluted-

Coranto stood up. “Wait, what’s that supposed to-”

-and vanished into a cloud of purple smoke.

“-mean?” Coranto sighed and collapsed back into her chair. “Ooooof course.”

“What did you expect?” asked her chimera waiter. “Just because someone does something nice for you doesn’t mean they like you.”

Twelve hours later and wide awake (she’d pinched herself to be sure), Coranto drummed her hoof on the cafe table, staring at the facade of the First Canterlot Bank as a carriage pulled up. “Five to,” she whispered into her recording gem, “and no sign of anything unusual. I still have my doubts on… Moondog, I’ll admit. She- It- She’s unpredictable and too… flighty.”

She tapped out a brief drumline as she watched several ponies walk around the carriage and file into the bank. “But for someone that shouldn’t exist, she’s… she’s surprisingly straightforward. Maybe even honest. There weren’t any coy evasions except for the hook. And, well, you have to have the hook. She told me why she was doing what she was doing. And she even apologized.” She finished her drumline and paused. “Perhaps I should apologize to Luna.” Getting on ponies’ nerves was considerably less satisfying if the facts couldn’t be twisted to make it look like they did the things she was getting on their nerves for.

Coranto’s gaze didn’t move from the bank. Silence reigned and the clock tick, tick, ticked away. Coranto rolled ideas back and forth in her mind and came to a conclusion. “Note to self,” she said. “Apologize to Luna, in person, if Moondog’s tip is accurate.”

A burst of magic exploded inside the bank and an earth stallion rocketed through one of the windows. A pegasus mare, in plain clothes but rather bulky for a civilian, jumped out after him and fell on him with an elbow drop.

“And there we go,” Coranto whispered, grinning.

Parallel Friendshipping

As it lounged on top of Rarity’s cabinets, watching her pace back and forth around a dream facsimile of Carousel Boutique, Moondog reflected how bizarrely fascinating ponies were. Take the pony before it: she’d saved Equestria… a lot of times. What was it now? Six? Seven? She’d been captured by diamond dogs, then convinced them to release her through sheer persistence and whining. She’d been grabbed by a greed-swollen dragon without much fuss. She’d gone through worse without getting a curl out of place. And yet, here she was, fretting about making a dress so badly that her mind still dwelt on it while she was asleep. You’d think the mind would be less concerned about things like that after smashing down alicorns or Lords of Chaos or magic-stealing centaurs. Ponies were weird.

“Why didn’t you take her measurements, Rarity?” Rarity asked herself. “Why were you such a foal tripping over yourself with awe that you forgot- to take- her measurements?” She punctuated her words with vigorous stomps.

Moondog wondered if it was even possible for it to be dismissive of any anxiety dream. The dress Rarity was worried about wasn’t even scheduled for another two weeks. Yet Moondog truly thought the resulting dream just as important as the one that stemmed from Duchess Ponderosa’s massive conglomeration of troubles that included familial, monetary, and agricultural. Of course, what sort of arcanic machine would be allowed to be snooty about who or what it worked with?

“And you don’t even know where she is, so you can’t send a letter of apology begging for her measurements! Woe! Woe! WOEEEEEE!” She laid a hoof across her brow and-

dream.addItem(new FaintingCouch());

-collapsed onto a couch that certainly hadn’t been there half a second earlier. “My life is ruiiiined!” she wailed, flailing her hooves. “Part of my life! My reputation! Part of my reputation! Part of my reputation with a single pony! Part of my reputation with a single pony who has little influence on me beyond the next business transaction!” She paused. “My liiiiiiife is RUIIIIIIIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIIIINED!”

Even if it couldn’t be dismissive of dreams, Moondog couldn’t sit around and let ponies be miserable all the time, either. Time to actually do something. It flowed from the cabinet and reformed on the floor from the top down. It walked over to Rarity and stood over her, grinning. “Hi there! You look like-”

“Go away! I’m busy!” screamed Rarity. Still not lucid, she had no reaction to the alicorn standing over her. Instead, she buried her face in a pillow and waved angrily in something resembling Moondog’s general direction. “Can’t a lady have some privacy while she’s moping about in self-pity?!”

“Oh, sorry,” said Moondog, pulling back as if ashamed. Acting out the parts always made the dream feel more authentic. “Want me to come back in, I dunno, an hour?”

“An hour would be nice, yes,” whimpered Rarity.

“Alright. Have fun with your wallowing.”

Sniff. “Will do.”

advanceTime(TIME.Hour, 1);

“Okay, hour’s up,” said Moondog.

“It is?” Rarity reluctantly raised her head to look at the clock. “Oh. I suppose it is,” she said resignedly. “Well, a lady-” She stretched as she got up, arching her back. “-does- have- her responsibilities, most unfortunately.” She slouched off of the couch and levitated the cardboard cutout it now was out of the way. “And as much as I’d like to help you,” she said, turning to Moondog, “I’m afraid that’s simply not an option at the moment. I’ve just realized an important customer ordered a dress from me, only-”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

“-to leave without me… getting…” Rarity blinked at Moondog and stared. “You’re… the…”

“Boo,” said Moondog, grinning.

Rarity shrieked and reflexively roundhouse-kicked it through the wall.

room.setWraparound(TRUE);

Moondog tumbled through the opposite wall, rolled, and landed on its feet in exactly the same position. Still grinning, it said, “So what do you do on Nightmare Night? Grab trick-or-treaters in a full Neighlson and suplex them?”

“Stay back, you troublesome Tantabus!” yelled Rarity, jumping back and raising her hooves into a fighting position. “I have sewing needles and I know how to use them!” Caught in her magic, over a dozen pins jumped from their pincushion to point at Moondog. Then the pincushion turned into a dozen more pins.

self.giveCraps(0);

Moondog’s grin didn’t waver an inch. “Hi!” it said, extending a hoof. “Name’s Moondog. Pleased to meetcha. Big fan of your creativity. Big fan.” And it was. Rarity had once made clothes out of a hotel room. Good clothes, even. As much as Moondog liked being able to tweak dream reality on a whim, a few limitations here and there definitely lent themselves more to creative expression.

“Oh, don’t for a second think you can-!” Then Rarity blinked and wrinkled her nose. “But… Luna… Waaaait, wait wait wait, Twilight mentioned you, didn’t she?” The needles clattered to the floor and wriggled away like caterpillars. “Something about… a magical… entity-”

“Protip,” Moondog said, projecting its voice to whisper in Rarity’s ear without moving from its position, “the word is ‘tulpa’.”

Rarity didn’t seem to notice. “-created by Luna,” she continued, frowning deeply, “to… assist her in her dream duties?”

“Which probably makes me Part-Time Princess Regent of the Dream Realm,” said Moondog, “but yeah.” It flared its wings and bowed. “Thankyouverymuch, lady and gentlemare, I’ll be here all week! And all subsequent weeks at no extra charge!” Did it even have a title? More importantly, did one of Mom’s titles relate to the dream realm at all?

“But then… if you’re… I…” Rarity looked at the holes in the walls and her eyes widened. “Oh, goodness, I am so sorry!” she gasped, putting a hoof to her mouth. “I don’t know what came over me-”

“Panic, sudden lucidity, impulse, honest mistake. It happens,” said Moondog casually, waving its hoof back and forth. (Rarity glanced at the hole in the wall at the last part.) “Plus, I kinda brought it on myself, just jumping into lucidity like that.” It wrung its mane; a few boards fell out. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“Well, I- I supposed that…” Rarity’s voice got lower and lower. “…perhaps… dream ponies could be hurt by… dreams…” She shook her head. “You’re sure you’re alright? That was quite the, um, kick.”

Moondog raised an eyebrow. It twisted its mane around a hoof and pulled its head off with a pop. “Pretty sure.”

Rarity squeaked, then frowned and leaned forward. She stared at Moondog’s neck as she stroked her chin. “I never thought I’d wonder what kind of head covering… equivalents a headless pony might want,” she mused, “but now…” She poked at Moondog’s neck.

“Oh, wow,” Moondog said, almost dropping its head as it giggled. “I didn’t think that’d tickle so much.”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);self.setClothes(dreamer.getClothes(STYLE.Business));

“But really.” Moondog collapsed into smoke for half a second, reforming as a normal head-on-neck alicorn in the kind of immaculately-designed business suit Rarity would’ve created if she was into something as boring as business suits. It flicked through a clipboard floating before it. “First order of business… Sable Cloak, famous theatre star, stopped by yesterday to order a dress from you, and between her busy schedule and your own enthrallment with her fame and style you forgot to take her measurements before she left, and now she’s back on Bridleway. Is that right?” Of course it was. But Rarity would appreciate the professionalism.

“In my defense,” Rarity said hastily, “she’s the sort of pony around whom- Yes, yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

self.adjustGlasses();--Error; NullPointerException eself.addToAppearance(GLASSES.Rimless);self.adjustGlasses();

Moondog materialized a pair of spectacles onto its nose so it could wiggle them disapprovingly. “Do you really think I’d be a good dream weaver if I had to conduct an interview with every pony I wanted to work with? I’m a smart tulpa.” Also in possession of a limited number of dream spells to gauge a pony’s surface emotional and mental states, but Mom said ponies didn’t like knowing that.

“I… suppose,” Rarity said skeptically. “While I appreciate the concern, I’m afraid this is a purely physical business, and- ah…” Her face turned beet red for a moment and she looked away. “Goodness that sounded dirty. My point being, how can you help with that?”

“Easy!” Moondog said, grinning.

clothesHorse = DreamPony.getInstance("Sable Cloak");clothesHorse.setCoordinates(0, 0, 20);

A silky black earth pony with a pure white mane meteorically plummeted through the roof. She jumped to her hooves immediately. “My dearest apologies, Rarity!” she said in a flowing voice as she ran to the fitting dias. “I left too early without considering what you needed!”

“Ta-daaaaaa!” Moondog made jazz hooves. “Your very own dream version of her! Take those measurements and they’ll be accurate to real life! Trust me, I’ve triple-checked. You can even get a head start on the design itself!” It grinned and slicked its mane back. “I’m good, aren’t I?”

Rarity was already on the dias with her tape measure out. “To say the least!” she said excitedly, measuring around one of Sable’s front fetlocks. “This is fabulous! All my worries for the week just vanished! Thank you ever so much! Now…” She measured Sable’s trunk length. “Don’t let me keep you, you’ve done quite enough for me-”

self.setClothes(NONE);

“Well, actually, can you work and talk at the same?” Moondog’s suit vanished as it sat down in a chair. “I kinda want to get to know you, know what makes your creative spark tick.”

Rarity peeked over Sable’s withers. “Me? You need my help? I appreciate the flattery, darling, but if Luna… ahm, created you specifically to make good dreams, I don’t see how I can help you. I have no experience with dream magic whatsoever!”

“But you do have loads of experience creating stuff,” said Moondog, spreading its wings. “I’m real good at making good dreams, but I feel like that’s only technically. Like they’re always the same sorts of good dreams.” It privately attributed this to Mom not needing to make a creative powerhouse for what was supposed to be an automated process, but didn’t bring the issue up; ponies always got weirdly existential when it reminded them that it was technically a machine. “But you’re an artiste of fashion. I could give you the same pile of junk three times and you’d design a different excellent dress every time. Your creativity level is like super off the charts.”

Rarity blinked, then smiled and fluffed her mane. “Of course it is,” she said. “Do you think you could fix the holes before I start? I don’t like the ‘atmosphere’ my boutique has being quite so…” A gust of wind blew through the walls, rattling everything in the room. “…ah, literal.”

“Oh, right! Sorry.” Moondog peeled the holes off the wall and ceiling, rolled them up, and tucked them under a wing.

“Thank you ever so much. Now…” Rarity took a step towards her fabrics, paused, and took a step back as said fabrics wove themselves from nothing. She delicately poked at Sable; the fabrics sewed themselves around Sable’s frame in a rough mock-up dress in seconds. Her giggle was rather high-pitched. “Oh, my. What I wouldn’t give to-”

clothesHorse.feedLines(waitingLine);

“Excuse me,” said Sable, “but I believe your guest is waiting.” She pointed at Moondog, who smiled and waved.

“Yes, yes,” said Rarity absently. She turned to Moondog. “You… personalize dreams, yes? Don’t just give the dreamer what they want; see if you can give them what they didn’t know they wanted, what they never imagined. Take Sable, here. She has a most stunning contrast between mane and coat, but I’ve yet to see her dresses take full advantage of it. The colors are all subdued and far too safe. So, since I was given free rein on the design…” She levitated two scraps of fabric, bright red and bright blue. “The contrast of these will accentuate hers all the more, you see? I’m thinking roses on the ocean.”

understand(raritySpeech);return: TRUE

“Uh-huh,” said Moondog, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“And when you get even the slightest whiff of an idea,” continued Rarity, “you chase it down! Never, ever let one get away! Run it to the ground and wrestle it until screams ‘Uncle!’” She pounded her hoof on the ground. “You never know what idea might be a good idea until you’ve worked with it a bit — don’t throw ideas out simply because you don’t like the look of them! You’ll know when an idea is an especially good one when you can’t stop thinking about it, find yourself expanding on it…”

The barn of Sweet Apple Acres was almost true-to-life, barring the lack of bad smells. It was large, even for a barn, unusually roomy and able to hold a not-insignificant portion of Ponyville’s population all on its own. The fire-engine red paint on the walls and shutters was unusually pristine for this kind of structure, with next to no chips or scrapes. This was probably attributable to the barn getting rebuilt, on average, two or three times a year for the past eight years. The thick beams that made up the framework were still good and strong without the slightest hint of rot. Shining pitchforks hung from pegs on the wall, held up by rusty nails. Hay was strewn across the ground, making a not-uncomfortable surface to walk on, while several bales were piled up in the corners. Worn, mildly frayed ropes dangled haphazardly from the loft, twitching slightly in the wind. There was also a twenty-thousand-gallon barrel of Sweet Apple Cider sitting in the middle, taking up most of it.

Applejack lay beneath the spigot, mouth open, blissfully chugging away at the sweet nectar that was flowing out. She flipped the handle back up, wiped her mouth down, and said, “Gotta say, this cider’s almost as good as the real deal. Missin’ the last little kick from the aftertaste, though.”

“Really?” asked Moondog, leaning against the barrel and holding its own mug of cider. “Neat. Taste’s, like, super hard to pull off. Mom never told me how to do it, so I’m just kinda making it up as I go.” For something as central to ponies’ lives as food, it was surprising how small of a role it usually played in dreams. Moondog drained the last inch of cider.

self.enjoy(bestCider);

“Coulda fooled me.” Applejack pushed herself up the side of the barrel, going a little far and pulling herself off the ground for a moment. “Second best kinda cider I’ve tasted.”

Moondog held up the mug in a toast. “Well, congratulate yourself, because even a lesser version of yours is the best cider I’ve tasted.”

Applejack squinted suspiciously at Moondog. “And how many kinds o’ cider have y’tasted?”

“Most of them,” Moondog asserted, briefly flaring its wings. It waved its free hoof around. “I jump around a lot, you know, and I’ve been in an awful lot of cider makers’ dreams.” It licked the last drops from its now-empty mug.

cup.setLevel(0.75, bestCider);

“Never really got the opportunity to talk to them about it, though,” it continued, and took another sip from its refilled mug. “This a family recipe?”

“Sure.” Applejack nodded. “Asked Granny ’bout it once, an’ she said it’d been old when she was but a li’l filly. Most o’ the recipes I know are family ones, actu’ly. There’s-” Her eyes suddenly narrowed and she lunged forward, pressing Moondog against the barrel. “Now don’t you go spreadin’ this all around when you’re workin’,” she said sternly. “I don’t wanna hafta tell Granny that cider sales’re down this year ’cause some dream pony’s givin’ it away for free in dreams.”

Moondog raised an eyebrow. “How would that work?”

“…Well, I sure as sugar dunno, but I don’t want it happenin’, y’hear?” Applejack prodded Moondog in the chest.

“Fine. Promise. For all Apple products, even.” Moondog traced an X over its heart, which glowed for several seconds. It decided to not mention that Applejack had less capability to enforce said request than she did to keep the sun from rising (barring polite requests to her friendly neighborhood demigodesses). “Mom’s real strict on me keeping secrets, anyway.”

Applejack looked Moondog in the eye for a moment longer, then backed away. “Good ’nough.” She smacked her lips a few times. “Say, uh, since you’re practicin’ taste, think y’could whip up somethin’ t’eat?”

dream.addItem(dreamer.getFavoriteFood(DESSERT.Pie));

“Hope you like pie,” Moondog said, waving a hoof at the newly materialized table, packed to bursting with said desserts.

A grin crawled across Applejack’s face as she examined the pies. “That’s puttin’ it lightly.” Grabbing a pie at random, Applejack cut herself a slice and took a bite. Her ears went straight up and her eyes started glowing (literally). She swallowed, said, “This is Apple Bloom’s pie!”, and quickly devoured another bite. “Or pretty dang close.”

“Yeah?” Moondog twirled a chair around so that its back was facing Applejack and sat down that way. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Oh, sure.” After wolfing down an entire slice at once, Applejack said, “First time she made it was, uh… six years ago. An’ Apple Bloom was even littler’n she is now, but she was startin’ to do some work ’round the farm. Big Mac was makin’ pancakes, but she got into the brown sugar somehow…”

Sitting in Fluttershy’s sunlit front yard, surrounded by happy animals, using a sleeping bear as a beanbag chair, Moondog gently pulled the brush through Fluttershy’s mane again. “Yes, just like that,” said Fluttershy. “That’s just gentle enough.”

“And this is really all you want?” Moondog asked as it maneuvered the brush around the chickadee perched on Fluttershy’s head. “Just having your mane brushed?” As much as it hated to admit it, Moondog didn’t always understand why ponies liked what they liked. Some nagging thought at the back of its mind kept saying something was up, even though Fluttershy was the kind of pony for which that was least likely to be true.

findCatch();return: FALSE

“If you don’t mind. Oh, and could you also scratch my back? Right between my wings. Yes, right there.” Fluttershy tilted her head back and hummed happily, wiggling her wings.

“Of course I don’t mind it,” Moondog said as it scratched. “I like it, to be honest. It’s just… you can have literally anything while I’m here, and this is all you want?”

findCatch();return: FALSE

The bear raised its head. “Yes, it is,” Fluttershy’s subconscious whispered to Moondog through the bear. “Why’s that so hard to understand?” Moondog ignored it.

“A little bit of relaxation goes a long way,” said Fluttershy. “I don’t need anything else.” She arched her back a little and rustled her wings. “Um, could you get a little more right there? No, lower- There.”

“Need and want are kinda two different things, you know.” Scratch scratch.

“Then I don’t see myself wanting anything else. What would I do with it?”

For anypony else, that question would’ve had a million answers. For Fluttershy- “Good point.” Moondog looked around. It was a peaceful place, all things considered, and for some ponies, all they wanted was peace and quiet. “I guess being waited on hoof and tail doesn’t hurt, either.”

Fluttershy giggled. “No. It doesn’t.”

“So…” Rainbow Dash looked around at the hissing horde of black-skinned, hole-limbed changelings around her, with more crawling from the walls of the hive every second. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Moondog was above the scene, floating like it was sprawled on an invisible couch.

“I… don’t wanna sound ungrateful for this, but… changelings are good now, right?” Rainbow held off the changeling closest to her by planting her hoof in its face. “So if a good dream for me is still seeing them as their old selves and beating them up-”

“Oh, come on!” Moondog dropped to the ground. “A year ago, this would’ve been hog heaven for you, and now you’re worried about speciesism?”

“They weren’t our friends a year ago! And is that even the right word?”

The changeling Rainbow was pushing back stopped trying to advance. “You look busy,” it said tentatively. “Want me to hold off on trying to beat you to a pulp?”

“Well, yeah,” said Moondog. “It matches the other -isms, like tribalism and sexism and-”

“But it sounds really weird,” Rainbow protested. “Like, reeeaaally weird.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The changeling sighed and walked back to the crowd. “She’s busy, guys! We need to wait a second!”

“Etymologically speaking-”

“I don’t care where the word comes from, it sounds super-”

drone = horde.selectRandomPony();noteToSelf("Rename selectRandomPony to something like selectRandomActor");drone.attack(dreamer);

An enterprising changeling lunged from the crowd and dove for Rainbow Dash, hissing, fangs bared. Rainbow caught it mid-air, twisted, and slammed it to the ground. “Hey!” she yelled in its face. “D’you mind? We’re philosophizing over here!”

“Hey now, you don’t need to snap,” scowled the changeling. “That hurt my feelings.”

“Keep it up and you’ll hurt outside as well as inside!” Rainbow bucked the changeling back into the horde. “Look, Moondog, if changelings are on our side now, then beating them seven ways to Sunday just because they’re changelings is… yyyyyeah.”

“Hmm. Alright, I get you. Gimme a sec.” Moondog conjured itself a beard to stroke thoughtfully as it stared at the ceiling. If beating changelings up because they were changelings was bad, then beating them up for some other reason was probably a-okay, so maybe-

stagBeetle = DreamPony.getInstance("Thorax");noteToSelf("Rename DreamPony to DreamActor or something");stagBeetle.feedLines(MOOD.Desperate);

Thorax plowed through the wall, leaving behind a massive hole, pursuing changelings streaming in behind him. “Rainbow Dash!” he yelled. “Thank goodness you’re here! Something something renegade changelings blah blah blah still allied with Chrysalis yadda yadda bad guys!”

horde.capture(stagBeetle);

“Also: oh no! I’ve been captured!” Thorax swooned into the crowd, which immediately cocooned him in slime. “If only there were somepony to rescue me!” he yelled as he was carried away. “Somepony Especially Awesome!”

Rainbow sighed and facehooved. “Dream pony dude thing,” she said flatly, “you really need to work on your lines. I mean, wow.”

“I didn’t think I’d need anything better!” Moondog protested, flaring its wings. “I’m improvising like whoa over here just to avoid scrapping the whole dream and starting over! How was I supposed to magically know you were suddenly super socially conscious?”

“The same way Luna does?”

Moondog folded its ears back and scowled. “It’s…” it mumbled, “not… quite that easy. And I… frgt bt it…”

“Hey!” protested a changeling. “Are we gonna fight? I’m booooored!”

“Still, they are evil now.” Rainbow flexed her wings and smirked at the horde. “Get ready to take notes on the Epitome of Awesomeness.”

“Finally.” Moondog sprang back up to its invisible couch and pulled a pen and paper from its mane. “Why do you think I came here in the first place?”

“La-la la-la la-la…” Pinkie Pie pronked along, singing a song that was going nowhere in particular and having a very fun time getting there. Moondog skulked along behind her, sticking to the shadows, waiting to corner her at a (relatively) still moment. Every single shred of information it’d dredged from other ponies’ heads said that Pinkie Pie was… different. She didn’t look different, she didn’t feel different, but something about her made Moondog feel like it was being watched. In spite of that feeling, Dream Ponyville was oddly empty, particularly for one as bubbly as Pinkie, but Moondog ignored that. Dreams were about as consistent as Twilight’s lists were short: not very. It was probably nothing.

Pinkie’s route took her all across town, often doubling back on itself, the whims of a scattershot mind. But just as Moondog was ready to reveal itself to Pinkie when she was still at her bounciest, she took a left and entered Sugarcube Corner, quickly shutting the door behind her. So was it to buy sweets or make sweets? Either one seemed valid. And either way, this was probably the most still she’d been. Moondog quickly trotted to the door and pushed it open.

“SURPRISE!”

The lights came on, nearly blinding Moondog. About a dozen cannons went off, spraying confetti everywhere. Although the room was filled with yelling ponies, Pinkie Pie’s voice in particular filled the whole room, drowning out every other sound. Moondog blinked the glare away and saw a banner hanging from the ceiling: WELCOME TO DREAM PONYVILLE MOONDOG.

“Surpriiiiiiise!” said Pinkie, getting in Moondog’s face and grinning from ear to ear. “I heard about you from Twilight but you were never around for your greeting party but then I had a knee twinge and a tail corkscrew this evening so I was wondering when you’d show up and I’m sorry I’m the only real pony in this place but I’m not as good with dreams as you so I couldn’t get any actual ponies from their dreams-”

self.activatePanicMode();dreamer.setVolume(0);--Error; PinkiePieException p

“-so I should probably see if I can get Princess Luna to teach me that and do you think maybe you could put in a good word for me?” And she boinged in placed, smiling expectantly.

Moondog blinked. Mom had never mentioned something like this… awareness. “Um…”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay if you can’t!” Pinkie bounced away through the crowd, which parted for her like fish in a shoal. Before Moondog could get its thoughts under control, Pinkie had bounced back with a cart (also bouncing) lined with desserts. “So! I came up with the best treats I could dream of! You take a seat and I’ll show you the options.” Moondog hesitantly sat down at a table as Pinkie began rattling off various dessert names at the speed of light. “This is lemon meringue, this is Rocky Road-”

“How- How did you know I was coming?”

Pinkie Pie didn’t skip a beat. “-mint chocolate chip, this is chif- Well, you had to come here eventually, silly! And if you could come at any time, why not now? So I planned for now, and here you are! -fon, this is cookies ’n’ cream-”

“That’s not what I-”

--Error; PinkiePieException p

“You know what, never mind.” Just who was Pinkie Pie? Moondog double-checked her metadata.

getDreamer();return:-- dreamer[name]: "Pinkie Pie"-- dreamer[desc]: SPECIES.Earth_Pony, SEX.Mare, COAT_COLOR.Pink, [...]-- dreamer[interests]: "laughter", "parties", "Moondog trying the red velvet cake"--Error; PinkiePieException p

“Seriously, Moondog, try it!” said Pinkie, pushing some red velvet cake its way. “You’ve never had any cake before!” She grinned slyly. “I can tell if somepony hasn’t yet tasted the magnificence of monosaccharides.”

“Look, look, look,” protested Moondog, pushing the cake back. “It’s- I- You- You don’t need to do this for me, really! I- I’m the one who’s supposed to be making good dreams for you!” Honestly, how was something like this even possible?

But with party mode activated, Pinkie Pie was a veritable avalanche, consuming all in her path of wanton sugar-and-confetti-based destruction. “And my definition of a good dream is you enjoying yourself at the party I’m throwing for you! Pleeeaaase?” Her eyes were big and her voice was earnest.

Moondog looked at the delicious spread sitting before it. It’d never been celebrated like this before, never planned on it, and technically Mom had told it to not spend too much time just faffing around. But just once couldn’t hurt, right? Still, it had a job to do and it couldn’t waste time-

“Eh, ---- it,” said Moondog, and buried its face in the cake.

Spike pulled another gem from the positively humongous mound beneath him and popped it into his mouth. “All this is for me?” he asked hopefully, his voice echoing around the cave. “And I just need to answer a few questions?”

Moondog poured another bucket of sapphires onto the pile. “Nope. The gems are free. The questions are just a polite request. Pretty please?”

“Heh. With this kind of dream, I’ll do anything you want.” Spike burrowed into the pile and popped out on the other side, happily chewing on three giant diamonds with a ruby sticking out from under one frill and an emerald from under the other.

“Cool beans.” Moondog flowed to the top of the pile and looked down at Spike. “For starters, what’s it feel like to breathe fire? I’m just trying to get some non-pony experiences to draw on. Can’t believe Mom didn’t do something like this before.”

Spike stared at the ceiling of the cave, gnawing pensively on an opal, as he thought. “It’s… You… kinda will or force hotness into yourself and collect it in your belly.” He mimed a ball in front of his chest. “Then you just… push it up and out and, well, poof.” He spat a small plume of fire at the ceiling. “It feels like you’re drinking hot cider in reverse. But you’re not puking.”

“Uh-huh. Interesting.” Moondog plucked a chunk of hibonite from the heap for examination. “And when you bite gems, do you actually cut through them or do they shatter?”

“That actually matters?” asked Spike. “It’s just eating gems.”

“Which is part of the Dragon Experience!” said Moondog. “Honestly, do you have any idea how often ponies dream of being-”

self.setAppearance(SPECIES.Dragon);

Moondog ripped its pony skin off, revealing the starry scales of a dragon underneath. “-something like this? And I wanna do it properly.”

“Wait, hold up.” Spike rolled onto his belly and pushed himself into a sitting position, facing Moondog. “You can… pretty much do anything in dreams, right? But… I still know more about being a dragon than you?” He grinned slightly.

“Everything I know about dragonning, I learned from Mom. Which means I know jack squat about dragonning.” Moondog shrugged and collapsed back into a pony shape. “Just like you know nothing about being a pony.”

“I dunno. I’ve already been a dog, and the two can’t be that different, can they?”

“Let’s find out!”

dreamer.setAppearance(SPECIES.Unicorn);

Evidently, living with Twilight for one’s whole life left one immune to certain kinds of shock. Ponified Spike looked at his new hoof without the slightest hint of a twitch. He slid off of the gems, trotted around them twice, and climbed back on. “For starters, my sense of smell isn’t as strong as when I’m a dog,” he said, “and my feet aren’t as sensitive. But I can see and hear better.” He wiggled his ears back and forth. “Although that second one might just be because my ears aren’t flopping like flags on the side of my head.”

Spike pushed his hoof into the pile of gems. He pulled it out with nothing on it. Frowning, he tried again. Same result. And again, and again… “How do you guys pick stuff up with hooves?” he growled, repeatedly shoveling his hoof through the pile and always coming up with squat.

“Like this.” Moondog scooped up a single prasiolite stone and held it out to Spike, grinning a grin that was teetering on the edge of helpful and smug.

“Riiiiiiiiiight,” Spike said flatly. His hoof kept passing through the gems like they were water. “You’d think that this would be easier in a dream,” he muttered, “not harder.” He gave up and just plunged his head into the heap.

dreamer.getHoof().setFriction(0);

“Believe me,” said Moondog, still grinning, “I don’t know what’s going on. So, gems?”

notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);self.readSpellMessage(sm);

Moondog,I’ve heard you’ve been helping my friends with their dreams and introducing yourself to them. That’s great! While you’re at it, do you think you could stop by mine when you have the chance? I could use your help with something. It’s not vital, so take your time.TwilightP.S. I’m still new at dream magic, so let me know if this message doesn’t reach you Moondog wouldn’t know if it didn’t wait is this still recording delete that last bit WHY IS IT STILL THERE I don’t know how to delete things in this. Sorry.

Moondog stepped into Twilight’s dreamscape and into a coliseum in the Canterlotian style. The encircling walls, gleaming white, reached for the sky as pennants flapped in the wind. The stands were empty, but loud bangs and cracks echoed through the colonnades; in the center of the arena was Twilight, unleashing twenty different kinds of Tartarus on a wooden pole that reformed whenever she let up for a second. The ground around her was blackened.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you? Don’t you?” roared Twilight.

The pole didn’t deign to respond.

Twilight screamed and unleashed a torrent of fire on the pole that cracked the earth beneath her feet within seconds. The stone wall on the other side of the coliseum melted within seconds from the onslaught. The heat expanded the air so quickly it was like a shockwave, and in the real world, the light would’ve blinded anypony looking at it. All other sounds were drowned out as the fire roared.

And when the fire vanished, the pole wasn’t even singed. Twilight shrieked in anger.

“Call me crazy,” Moondog whispered in Twilight’s ear, “but you might be a tiiiiiiiny bit high-strung, cousin-in-law.”

Twilight twitched at the sound of Moondog’s voice, then sighed. “Sorry,” she said. “Rough day. It was…” She waved her hoof vaguely and groaned. “But! Enough about me. Glad to see you’re around, Moondog. Did you get my message?”

“No. That’s actually why I’m here: to tell you I didn’t get it, just like it said.”

“Oh.” Twilight’s tail drooped a little. “Well, I just wanted to…” Then she blinked and squinted at Moondog.

Moondog put a hoof to its muzzle as it snickered. “You have no idea how easy it is to get ponies to fall for that.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and continued, “So I was thinking: this all feels pretty real.” She gestured at the coliseum. (Moondog fought the urge to turn the sky neon green right then and there.) “And my spells work as expected.” She pointed at the pole.

“Okaaaaaaay…” Moondog said.

“So then I thought, maybe you could help me cast a spell that’d be nearly impossible in the real world, but trivial in a place where anything is possible. ‘What kind of spell?’, you may ask? Easy! It’s-” She frowned and started pacing. “Okay, never mind, maybe not so easy. I had that really good analogy, too… What was it?…”

spellScroll = new Scroll();spellScroll.setContents(dreamer.getCurrentThoughts());dreamer.giveItem(spellScroll);

“What was it what was it what was it…” Twilight muttered, hitting herself in the head with the scroll. She paused. She looked at the scroll. She shrugged, gave the first few lines a quick once-over, and nodded. “This spell, here,” she said, passing the scroll over.

Moondog unrolled the scroll. And unrolled it and unrolled it and unrolled it and unrolled it and…

“It analyzes wave function collapse in quantum physics!” Twilight said brightly as the length of the equation-filled scroll ate up miles. “Specifically, it’ll technically observe the wave function without actually observing it — probably — which will tell us whether the Clopenhagen interpretation is correct, which, either way, would be a huge leap forward our understanding of the world-”

“Oh, sweet Aunt Celly, you’re integrating the Haymiltonian across five dimensions,” whispered Moondog.

“I’m exploiting so many classical, quantum, and arcane loopholes, I might as well be a lawyer!” Twilight said cheerfully. “But I don’t really want to say that, because, well, lawyer…”

Moondog looked at the next few lines of the scroll before groaning and dropping it. “So let me get this straight,” it said flatly. “You want me… to simulate reality… perfectly… down to the quantum level… so you can test a spell.”

“Please?” asked Twilight, smiling sweetly.

self.setFacehoofLevel(7);

Sighing, Moondog slowly turned away and massaged its temples, mumbling, “Whyyyyyy why why why whyyyyyeeee…”

“What?” protested Twilight. “All you need to do is model reality — like you’ve been doing!-” She waved a hoof around the coliseum. “-and let me cast the spell!”

“This isn’t the greatest model of reality,” Moondog said bluntly. It reached up and rolled part of the sky away; the scaffolding of a theater crisscrossed above them and a giant stage light burned down in place of the sun. “See?”

“That’s only there because you’re making it be there!” Twilight said. “Come on, don’t you think you could put in a little bit more effort just this once? For science? Please?” The worst part about it was the way she was earnest rather than demanding. Shutting down a jerk out of spite was fun; shutting down a friend out of an inability to help wasn’t.

“It’s not that simple,” Moondog said, fixing the sky. “Remember, this is still all in your head, with your own expectations. Your spells are working perfectly because you expect them to. And if you expect your new super awesome spell to work one way, then it will, even if it’s totally different from the real world. Like, if I changed the way magic worked in here-”

dreamer.setSpellEffects(RANDOM);

“Okay, look.” Moondog plucked a rock from the floor of the courtyard and held it out. By all accounts, it was a perfectly ordinary rock, gray and dull and speckled. “Levitate this rock.”

Twilight gave Moondog a Look, but tried levitating the rock.

The coliseum exploded.

dream.setTimeSpeed(0);explosion.setVolume(0);

With the explosion frozen in place, Moondog wove around bits of stony shrapnel. Twilight was frowning, staring at the remains of a statue and poking it. “Huh,” she said. “That’s… Huh. Huh huh.” She looked around the tableau and tilted her head in though. A second later, she was scratching pictures and equations on what remained of the ground with a charcoal stick.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Moondog said as the coliseum rebuilt itself, “if I could do it, I totally would. But quantum physics is way weirder than dreams. I mean, particles behaving differently depending on whether or not it’s being observed? Why does a particle only interfere with itself when nopony’s around to watch it, if you know what I mean?”

Twilight didn’t look up. “Because on those scales… it’s so small that… Yeah.” Scratch scribble scratch.

“And this ‘reality’ is so hugely based on thoughts and perceptions that… that…” Moondog let its voice trail off and tilted its head.

“Yeah. I get you.” Scratch scratch.

self.setAppearance(SPATIAL.Picture);self.setRelativeSize(0.1);

Sighing, Moondog flattened itself into a tiny drawing on the ground. It took a seat on one of Twilight’s sketches and glared up at her. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You were talking about how weird quantum physics is,” Twilight said, “even though it really isn’t — you just need to remember that reality is governed by complex-in-the-mathematical-sense probability amplitudes and measurements can only occur in discrete quantities and observation itself can-”

“Okay, right. You were listening,” grumbled Moondog. For somepony so prone to tunnel vision, Twilight could be impressively aware of her surroundings. Well, live and learn. It looked “down” at Twilight’s equations. “So what’s this?”

“I’m reinventing arcane physics!” Twilight said cheerfully. “If the energies in the normal proportions for levitation caused combustion on that scale, how else does magic work in here? I know it probably won’t be consistent, but it’s a fun thought exercise! So thanks, even though we couldn’t do the quantum spell.”

Moondog shrugged and saluted. “You’re welcome, then. You want anything else, or-?”

“No, thanks.” Twilight scratched out something that required a mind-boggling number of Kroneckolt deltas. “This’ll keep me busy for quite a while.” She giggled. “I’ve never invented an entire branch of science before!”

“Alright. Be seeing you.” Moondog pulled open a door and put a hoof inside.

“Actually, wait.” Twilight scribbled the door closed. “You’ve been around most of my friends, but I haven’t heard anything from Starlight about you.”

“Yeah, well, uh…” Moondog laughed humorlessly and leaned against the blob that had once been a door. “No offense, but have you met her? She’d probably cast some weird spell by accident that’d shove me into the real world and keep me from getting back here. Noooooo thank you.”

“I thought Luna was the only pony with dream magic that powerful,” Twilight said, frowning.

“Do you really think that’d stop Starlight? Besides, you taught yourself to send me spell messages, so…” Moondog shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Still, it’d be nice of you to talk to her sooner or later.”

“Definitely later.” Moondog shoved the scribble aside. “Adios, amiga.” It was out of Twilight’s dream before she could respond.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, Moondog?”

“Have you ever thought about how freaking weird the Elements of Harmony are?”

Tulpa ex Somnium

The problem with villains with overly grandiose names, Daring Do reflected, was that they tended to be either ludicrously incompetent or ludicrously competent, and it was impossible to say which they were until it was far too late. Take this guy, this cult leader, the Eschaton. The name was Baby’s First Symbolism, so blunt it almost induced eye-rolling every time Daring heard it. And yet, after Daring had initially escaped with her half of the Medallion of Worlds, he hadn’t sent easily defeatable mooks after her to get it back. No, he’d just slipped her a mickey when she was celebrating at a bar and kidnapped her. She didn’t have her half of the Medallion with her — it’d already been safely hidden away — but it’d be easy for him to grill her about it, now that she was bound to a stone slab.

The Eschaton, a unicorn with a white coat and bleached mane and oh-so-clichéd black robes, paced back and forth in front of her. “One last time, Ms. Do,” he said quietly. “You can tell me where your half of the medallion is. Or I can make you tell me.”

“Do I win a prize if I tell you?” Daring asked. It wasn’t the best response, mostly because it was a delaying tactic as she surveyed the dingy stone room one last time. He was the only other pony in the room, and she could handle the cultists that were definitely outside the door; those sorts of robes looked intimidating but (and she knew this from experience) were a pain to fight in. But first, she needed to get out of these bonds, and although the knots were weak, she couldn’t pull her hooves out quickly, not without the Eschaton zapping her in the face.

“A quick and painless death. It is more than you deserve.”

“Weak. I could get a better prize from my cereal box. I think I’ll pass.” Yeah, that was getting changed in the final draft.

The Eschaton clenched his jaw and a vein pulsed in his forehead. Visibly. How close was he to an aneurysm? “Very. Well,” he said, trying and failing to add gravel to his voice. “Then let us. Begin.” He closed his eyes and pointed his horn at Daring; it flashed and the air began thrumming.

“Nice light show,” Daring said, hoping to egg him beyond concentration. “Not like I haven’t seen that a million times before. But, sure, yours is special.” She tugged at the ropes around one of her hooves. Maybe, if she was lucky-

Yet the Eschaton paid her no mind. His horn flashed again and coils of darkness unwound from its whorls. They dove at Daring, driving themselves down her mouth, into her eyes, through her ears. And Daring lost all sensation.

She was adrift on a sea of madness, her mind unmoored and cut loose. Her flesh, like a liquid, had long since sloughed off. Her memories were islands where she could gain some semblance of respite, but whenever she pulled herself ashore, the crows of the Eschaton’s interrogation spell dove and began picking it over. When they found nothing, a tentacle loomed from the sea and smashed the pathetic spit of sand to pieces, and Daring couldn’t pull it up again. She could feel herself nudged, pushed in the direction of today, where she’d hid her half of the Medallion. It was inexorable, inevitable, and the more Daring fought and dredged up irrelevant memories, the more her physical sense of self was stripped away. She was left shivering and drowning beneath a searchlight that watched her every move, waiting for her to either make a single misstep or roll over and die so it could pick over her bones.

Then she was pulled away, no longer exposed. She had the vague feeling that something had been thrown over her before a voice spoke.

“Like, whoa. Talk about bad touch. Hang on a sec, lemme get you out.”

The thrashing in Daring’s mind slowed, then vanished completely. The barbs in her thoughts were delicately withdrawn as the ocean drained. She had a body again, ears and eyes and a tail and wings and everything. She moaned and attempted to rub her head, but she still couldn’t feel her legs.

“Huh. That’s new. Maybe if I- No, no. Why didn’t that work?”

The voice was strange, not exactly a stallion’s or a mare’s, and she couldn’t even place the age. Holding her breath, Daring cracked her eye open.

She was in a plain, featureless white room, yet still tied to the slab. Standing over her was an alicorn with a coat and mane of stars and glowing eyes, chewing on its lip. “Oh! Maybe if I- Daggit. Nope.” It looked Daring in the eye. “Hey. You doing alright, Daring?”

“I’ve been better,” gasped Daring. “Who… Who are you?”

“Moondog,” said the alicorn. “Short version, Princess Luna’s dream assistant, alright? And, hoo boy, do you need a good dream right about now.”

Approximately three million, eight hundred and fifty-two thousand questions (rounding down) exploded violently into Daring’s head and splattered across her thoughts, ranging from how she’d gotten out of that temple to how this (was this person even a pony?) individual knew her name. But she didn’t have the energy to ask any of those questions, so she settled for dropping her head again and moaning.

“Friggernaffy,” growled Moondog. “I was sure that- wait, waaaaiiiit…” It laid a hoof on Daring’s bonds; a pins-and-needles feeling swept up and down her body and she twitched. Moondog grinned. “Ha ha! Yes! Now, this is gonna feel a bit strange, but trust me, that means it’s working.”

Normally, Daring might’ve said something along the lines of, How reassuring, but with a maybe-princess coming to her rescue, she wasn’t going to push her luck. She held her breath as her entire body was poked with a billion pins. Feeling leaked back into her limbs and, to her surprise, it didn’t hurt. She wiggled her legs and wings, but they were still tied. A start, at least.

“Working on it,” said Moondog, preempting her question. “This spell is pretty clever-” The ropes suddenly unravelled, fraying at the ends into nothingness. “-but! Definitely not clever enough! Bada boom!”

Daring rolled off the slab. The moment her hooves touched the ground, the rock turned to water, fell upward to the ceiling, and drained through a grate that Daring was sure hadn’t been there five seconds before.

“And there we go!” Moondog said, sounding quite pleased with itself. “You. Are welcome.” It flared its wings and bowed.

“Um. Thanks, I… guess.” Still unsure as to what the heck was going on, Daring rubbed at the floor. It didn’t seem to have a texture and was instead just sort of there, a thing to stand on because she needed a thing to stand on. And how had she gotten into the room in the first place? There wasn’t a door and she hadn’t felt like she’d been teleported.

“You know, I’ll never get tired of those ‘deep in thought’ expressions.”

Daring twitched and pulled herself back to reality. Moondog was slouching over an invisible surface, its head propped up on a hoof, surveying Daring like she was a subject in some experiment. “You’re all like ‘whoa, I’m being painted’ or something, and suddenly you look off into the distance all dramatic-like so-” It framed its face with its hooves. “-your portrait looks nice. And to be fair, it does.”

Desperate to say something, Daring asked, “How did you know my name?” Even though an awful lot of ponies in Equestria would recognize her, what with her iconically spiffy outfit. Hence why she normally worked outside Equestria.

Moondog pointed at Daring’s chest. “Name tag.”

What? Daring looked down. She had, of all things, a sticker tag stuck to her jacket: HELLO, MY NAME IS Daring Do. More confused than ever, she pulled it off, only to reveal another one beneath it. HELLO, MY NAME IS A. K. Yearling. She hastily ripped that one off. HELLO, MY NAME IS Ineighgo Manetoya. Luckily, that one was the last one. But what was up with-

Short version, Princess Luna’s dream assistant, alright?

All at once, most of the pieces fell into place. Daring looked at Moondog again. “This is all a dream, right? And you just pulled me out of the Eschaton’s mental probe.”

“Um.” Moondog scratched its head. “It’s technically a dream, I guess?” It sounded like it was giving an oral report it hadn’t prepared for. “Your, uh, ‘interrogation’ was almost completely mental already, and once you were unconscious, that sent ripples into the dream realm, and those sorts of things hurt, y’know? So I just pushed in a little energy to bring it all the way in so I could work with it, and…” It rubbed the back of its neck. “It’s complicated. But, yeah, totally saved you from that guy. Anyway, I…” Moondog laid a hoof to its chest and began speaking in a dramatic voice. “…am an arcane construct par excellence, given life by Princess Luna herself, to-”

Daring raised a hoof. “I hate to interrupt-” -and she did; everyone loved a good speech. It was why real villains monologued and writers still had their own villains monologue even as they criticized that same thing- “-but if this is a dream, I should probably find a way to wake up. I was kind of in the middle of something, and- I can wake up, right?”

“Now that I redirected the spell, you can,” said Moondog. “Actually, if you’re in a hurry, let’s do that now!” And suddenly it was winding up with a warhammer the size of a train car. How it fit in the room was anypony’s guess. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” said Daring, taking a step back and flaring her wings as her heart sped up, “I’m sure there’s-”

Moondog smashed Daring in the face and she woke up on the slab, panting as if she’d flown a marathon or ten, her clothes pinned to her body by cold sweat. On reflex, she tested all six of her limbs; they seemed to be working, even if she was still bound. But the Eschaton’s eyes were closed and he was still muttering to himself as if his spell was still running. Nopony else had entered the room in the meantime. On a whim, Daring bit her tongue. It hurt. Whatever was up with Moondog, at least the results seemed to be good.

Daring lightly tugged at her bonds. Their loose knots hadn’t been tightened at all. Focusing on her right front hoof, she carefully pulled, rotating it back and forth inside the coils of rope until-

Something gave and Daring’s hoof slipped straight out. Thank heavens for small favors. She reached over and slowly, quietly pulled her other hoof from its loop. Yeah, these were pretty much the worst knots in history. What kind of genius knew mental entrapment spells but couldn’t tie a knot to save his life? The same kind of genius who thought calling himself “the Eschaton” was nice and dramatic, apparently.

With both front hooves free, untying her rear legs was so simple that she could’ve done it in her sleep. Unable to resist, she tapped the Eschaton on the nose. His eyes snapped open and he twitched so hard it looked like he was having a seizure. “How-?” he gaped.

“Hi!” said Daring. Punch.

The Eschaton’s head snapped to one side and he staggered away. He hadn’t even stopped moving before Daring charged him with the rope. In only seconds, she tied him up with the practiced ease of somepony who’d restrained others probably a bit too often. Not even wiggling in his shock, the Eschaton could only blink at her. “You should not- be- awake!” he gasped. “Escaping that spell is- is impossible!”

The one-liner-writing portion of Daring’s brain finally engaged properly as she grinned. “Dream on, chump.” She blew through the door, and after a few solid jabs to knock out the guards, she was dashing through the corridors of the temple; nopony had a hope of catching her.

Several weeks later, Daring was sitting in her house, spending the evening punching away at a typewriter in her front room. Its constant tack tack tack and the fire crackling in the fireplace lulled her into a state of easy contentment. It was a strange sort of catharsis, getting her adventures out on paper, even though they always seemed to end swimmingly. It was like she was writing the book specifically so she could close it.

The Eschaton finally stopped his pacing. “One last time, Dr. Do,” he said quietly. “You can tell me where your half of the medallion is. Or I can make you tell me.”

In a last delaying tactic, Daring asked, “Do I win a prize if I tell you?” But her situation didn’t deign to improve.

NOTE TO ED: I’m open to one-liner suggestions. Brain fart.

Tack tack tack. She changed some things in the transition from reality to page, obviously. Small things, mostly. Making travelling go quicker, rephrasing conversations, upping or downing the drama level of a scene at any given moment, tweaking personalities, that sort of thing. The specifics varied from book to book. For Daring Do and the Working Titles of Fate, she made the Eschaton a little bit more menacing, something she’d never needed to do before. Sure, the guy was effective at times, but at others, he was downright laughable. Anything to make the book flow better.

The Eschaton’s eyes narrowed, and Daring immediately knew she’d made a mistake. Yeah, snarking at the guy who was holding you captive, real smart. “Very well,” he said in a voice like the beginning of an avalanche. “Then let us begin.”

Tack tack tack. But for the most part, she kept at least the gist of events. It needed to feel right, and reality tended to feel right, at least when Daring was writing. Part of her wondered if she was really just a hack author who happened to live an interesting life, but she suspected she just wasn’t that creative. She could get the descriptions and prose down, make it flow and twist and dance, but when it came to actual plots, she was a blank. Reality provided for her, though, and it had that certain zing to it.

…waiting for her to either make a single misstep or roll over and die so it could pick over her bones.

NOTE TO ED: Too dark? Let me know if I need to change it.

Tack tack tack. Of course, the nice bonus about basing her books on true stories was that the setup was always there, so she didn’t have to worry too much about plot holes. Everything had to logically follow from what had come before or else it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Standing over her was an alicorn with a coat and mane of stars and glowing eyes, che

Tack tack- Except now.

Daring stopped typing and frowned at the sentence fragment she’d written. Right. Like her readers would accept a… dream-based tulpa conveniently appearing at exactly the right time to free her. Sure. She might as well just have a meteor plummet through the ceiling, take out the three floors above them, go straight through the Eschaton’s head, and leave her unharmed. Oh, and the shrapnel from the meteor conveniently severing her bonds.

But he’d used that spell before, and it’d been inescapable then. The scene in the cage with Mandrel had established that much. (Thank goodness she’d make a full recovery.) There was no way she was going to have herself be strong-willed enough to resist the spell; that was too easy. And nopony else was around to help her out.

So here she was, ready to start the avalanche of the climax, and lacked a rock to set it off.

Okay, so she could skip that part for now. Write the bit after she got saved and go from there. That would work, as long as she kept this bit in the back of her mind, right? Right. She set aside the page she was on and inserted a new one. Tack tack tack.

With both front hooves free, untying her rear legs was so simple that she could’ve done it in her sleep. But what little noise she was making attracted the Eschaton’s attention. His eyes snapped open; the second he realized Daring was free, the nature of his spell change.

Tack tack tack. Time drifted easily by, Daring smoothed out her escape from the temple, and that gap in her writing nagged at her like a mental wound. She thought, hurled her mind this way and that, but nothing came up, or at least nothing that wouldn’t require a massive reworking of the earlier chapters. Which, true, she could do, but it would take so much work, both in plotting and in typing. Stupid inability to go back and easily edit already-typed stuff.

As the river carried Daring away, the structure finally gave. The temple collapsed in on itself, walls and stairs crumbling as each level caved into the one below it. The colonnade at the top was the last to go; by the time they could fall no more, the pillars practically shattered with the force of the impact. A colossal plume of dust bloomed fifty feet into the air. When it eventually cleared, all that remained of that haven of evil was a dirty pile of rubble.

Tack tack TACK. Daring hit the period to end the penultimate chapter with perhaps a bit more vigor than she intended, but the issue of “getting out” still gnawed at her like a toothless dog and its bone. She unfolded her wings with a groan and leaned over the back of her chair to stretch her spine out. She glanced out the window. The sun had gone down a long time ago and the stars twinkled at her.

Daring looked at the ceiling for a moment, then grunted and rolled from the chair. She wasn’t going to work out any issues with the plot tonight. Almost completing the first draft of her book had wiped her out more completely than a balefire bomb. She dragged herself to her bedroom. Hopefully, sleeping on the issue would help.

Daring typed feverishly, beating out a steady drumroll across the typewriter’s carriage. As soon as the typewriter’s arm swung away, the letter drifted from the page to the ceiling. The mass of letters up there was already dense and cluttered. Daring ripped the blank page from the typewriter, laid it on a pile of equally-blank pages, and continued typing. Nothing would stick and ideas refused to coalesce in her head. She just kept typing and vainly hoping something would come.

She glanced up at the clock. Her deadline was approaching, as inevitable as tax season and even less welcome. The clock refused to move while she was looking at it, yet whenever she looked away, she could hear the hands whizzing around. Her fans needed, demanded her next book, and if she couldn’t get it to them soon… She wiped her forehead down and kept typing.

Then, suddenly, the letters started sticking. Daring typed out a full line before she noticed, then she read that line eagerly.

Bvyi fa fi bfiv ivx nkrt jfrg ivyi gkxar’i hxi fi pxyg aicqq fr y gpxyj? Cacyhht, F jxyr. Yi hxyai fi hxia jx vfgx axupxi jxaaymxa qkp hycmva. Yrtbyt, hkkz cn. F’j dxvfrg tkc.

…Truly, some of her finest work. Daring sighed, advanced a line down, and reset the carriage. She random punched a few keys in frustration, typing out “SURPR”. That prompted a frown; she definitely hadn’t hit any of those letters. Hesitantly, Daring poked at the M key. The letter that was typed was “I”. She hit the L. “S”. She hit the P. “E”.

“In my professional opinion, it would appear that your hierarchy of needs is like totally outta whack.”

Daring looked up and froze. That starry alicorn was staring down at her, perched on the back of her chair and looming as ominously as a bird of prey or (even worse) her publisher. “I mean, no offense,” it said casually, “but after getting kidnapped and nearly having your mind ripped apart by a cult, the thing that gets your goat to the point of nightmares is writing?” It cocked its head. “Seriously. You ponies are weird.”

“Um, hey,” said Daring. “Moondog, right?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

“Could you cool it with the vulture act?” Daring said exasperatedly.

Moondog blinked. Suddenly, a vulture was perched on the back of Daring’s chair. “No.”

Daring sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Hold still, will you?” She took the typewriter in her hooves, whirled around, and brought it down as hard as she could on Moondog’s head, crushing it flat into a glittery smear on the floor.

A hoof poked up declaratively from the smear. “I’m sensing some hostility, here,” Moondog proclaimed sagely. “Juuuust a little.”

“The last time we met, you hit me in the face with the mother of all sledgehammers!” yelled Daring. She crushed the hoof.

Moondog’s head formed from the smear. “Yeah. And then you woke up. Like you wanted.”

Crunch. “It’s the principle of the thing!”

“Oh, come on!” the smear protested. The stars winked angrily at Daring. “It didn’t even hurt!”

Wham. “So?”

“Oh, whatever.” Moondog popped up from the floor. Daring swung again, only for the typewriter to pass straight through Moondog and vanish from her hooves in the process. “Now, look,” Moondog said sternly. “Normally, I’d just do my thing and bug out and you’d never even notice me. But somehow, I’m the cause of your nightmares, so I’d like to get this sorted out personally.” Its slightly angry demeanor dropped into a slightly sheepish one as it looked away, twisting its mane around a hoof. “I… don’t wanna be making bad dreams by accident.”

“You could start by not hitting ponies in the face with hammers.”

“Hey!” Moondog flared its wings and jabbed Daring in the chest. “You needed to wake up, and my options for that are crap! I did the best I could!”

Daring had more than a few responses to that, but instead she batted Moondog’s hoof aside and said, “Fine, fine. So, what, you just want to talk?”

“Right. See, I thought your encounter with Mr. Mind Probe might scar you for life, but you were like super casual about it. I kept checking up on you every few nights, just in case, and you were fine. Then you start writing about me, and suddenly we get…” Moondog gestured at the letters scattered across the ceiling. “…abstract nightmares, of all things.” It pulled up the smooshy orange armchair next to the fire and collapsed into it. (That, more than anything, reminded Daring this was a dream; it was impossible to find that chair comfortable.) “And since I’m made to destroy nightmares, somehow being the cause of one is kind of a bummer,” it finished in the same kind of voice of a farmer saying that their grain silo exploding was kind of a bummer.

If she hadn’t been so used to making things up as she went along, Daring supposed she would’ve been more lost than an earth pony in Cloudsdale. But she got the general gist of things and hoped she could wing it. She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, pacing back and forth. “So. I’m writing a novel. Based on… what I was doing then.”

“Uh-huh. Marketed as fiction, yeah. My lips are sealed.”

Daring added yet another question to the list. “Then I got to the point where you saved me from the villain’s clutches — thanks for that, by the way — and, well, you hadn’t appeared before then, and you vanished and didn’t appear later. It’s like I invented you just to get me out of that jam. A real deus ex machina.”

Moondog blinked. “A… deus ex- I already exist!” it yelled, jumping out of the chair. “And somehow my showing up at the right time would be a literary crime? Readers are bullcrap! Coincidences like that happen in the physical world all the dang time! Or was Rainbow Dash showing up to help you that first time also something you pulled from your butt?”

Part of Daring wondered what would happen if Moondog stopped managing dreams for Luna and instead managed Equestria’s intelligence agencies. The rest of her said, “Reality doesn’t have to make sense or avoid strange coincidences. Fiction does. You can make ponies accept the impossible, but not the improbable. It’s…” She waved her hooves around each other vaguely. “Readers want me to get out of problems on my own, not have someone who’s never been in the story before do it for me. It makes the ending that much better. It’s the same reason everypony loves an underdog.”

“But, what, me doing my frigging job is bad writing?” Moondog snorted. “I guess waiters bringing you food is bad writing, too.”

“Let’s put it this way. A story where all the hero’s problems are solved by her suddenly finding a random briefcase full of bits is very different from a story where all the hero’s problems are caused by her suddenly finding a random briefcase full of bits.”

“So I guess this, with you and me-” Moondog pointed between the two of them. “-is a story where all your problems are caused by me saving your life.”

“I guess,” Daring said with a shrug.

“…I was kidding!”

“That’s what it is!”

“Oh, sure.” Moondog rolled its eyes. “What kind of angst-ridden story has somepony’s life being saved as the driving conflict?”

Daring scratched her head. Even though she knew this was real life (for a given value of “real”), she’d been bitten by the analysis bug and was determined to run with it to scratch that itch. “That depends on whether you’re the protagonist or I am. Although the other would probably be the deuteragonist, which-”

“Look, let’s get back on track, can we? Okay. At least I’m not the main cause of your nightmares,” Moondog muttered. “So we need either an earlier reason for me to be looking out for you or you to get yourself out via heroic spirit or something.”

“Not the second one,” Daring said immediately. “It’d be really stupid if I broke out of a black magic interrogation spell just by being, grrrr, really determined.”

“Definitely,” Moondog said with a nod. “Those sorts of spells just get right inside your head, and…” It stuffed its hoof into its ear far deeper than a hoof had a right to go. “Blalgh. You don’t want to know the state your mind was almost in.”

Daring’s thoughts almost got away from her. To distract herself, she walked back and forth, staring at the floor. The whorls in the wood, she noticed, repeated themselves from board to board. “But if you were following me,” she said to herself, “you needed to start following me. You just hanging around because you thought I was interesting is weak and plot-device-y, since obviously you’d only be there to save my haycon in the climax. So why did you come to me?”

“Because I sent you after that guy in the first place!”

Daring looked up. Moondog was lounging across the armrests of its chair, looking very pleased with itself. “It goes like this,” it said, making big gestures. “I was like, ‘Hey, Daring, there’s these guys who’ve been dreaming about doing something bad, but I can’t enter the real world, could you check it out for me since you have experience with this sort of thing?’ And you were all-” Its voice became an exact copy of Daring’s. “‘Sure thing!’ And I checked up on you every night or so just in case, so I was watching you anyway, and I was able to help you help me!” It smiled and rubbed its hooves together. “Neat, easy, an invocation of… Sheckle’s… Something-or-Other-”

“Chekon’s Rune.”

“Right, that! It’s perfect!” Moondog’s smile was positively stuffed with self-satisfaction. Outside the window, a choir began singing.

It almost was. It gave Daring a reason to go out obtaining rare antiquities beyond the usual, the impromptu dream meetings could help the pacing and maybe provide some levity, and it’d bring the plot full circle in the end. Almost perfect. The problem was- “Yeah, no offense, but I don’t think you’re the best person for that.” Hopefully, Moondog would get it.

The chair collapsed and the choir went silent. After getting to its feet, Moondog lowered an ear, looking mildly surprised at best. “Really? Why not?”

“Because we need someone who doesn’t wake ponies up by hitting them in the face with warhammers,” Daring said flatly.

“Fair enough,” Moondog said with a shrug. “What about Mom, then? She’s the kind of pony you’re looking for. Ooo, and working for a princess raises the narrative stakes nicely, too! …It does, right?”

“Mom?” Daring’s thought processes did a double backflip in shock, but at least they stuck the landing. “You mean- Princess Luna?”

“No,” Moondog said with a sigh. “Ahuizotl. Yes Princess Luna! Who else do you think?”

“No, I mean- She’s a princess. I know other ponies have done it, but I don’t feel right writing her into my story.” Not something based this closely on reality, anyway. ”I want to be sure she’s okay with it, and it’s not like I can just talk to her.” Did the Princesses even know her double life? Assuming they read her books, it wouldn’t surprise her, if only because they seemed to know everything at times. But what kind of princess would read her books? Okay, Princess Twilight, but-

“Sure you can. She can spare a minute or two. Hang on, lemme get her.” Moondog pulled open a hole in the air and jumped in.

“Wait!” yelled Daring, jumping after it. “You can’t just-” She hit the hole’s empty space like a rubber wall; it flexed, cushioning what otherwise would’ve been a nasty hit (at least in the real world), and deposited her lightly on the floor again. Grumbling, Daring flattened her mane down and looked up to see a note taped to the hole.

Sorry, but you can’t follow me. Taking somepony like you into the collective unconscious takes more complicated magic than I can do.

Once Daring had read it, the note folded itself into an origami bird and fluttered out the window, straight through the glass, and Daring’s disbelief quota ran out. “You know,” Daring said wistfully to herself as she stared outside, “just once, I wouldn’t mind an expedition that was just me walking around a town, asking ponies questions about the artifact of the week. Someplace on the waterfront, nice and small and quiet. And Bitalian.”

Luna clambered out of the hole, quickly followed by Moondog. Daring didn’t bother being surprised. “What Bitalian towns would you recommend for a vacation, Princess?” she asked idly.

“Anything in Tuscaneigh,” Luna replied. “The history, wine, and culture there are all equally rich.”

“Mmhmm.” That was what Daring had been thinking, anyway. “Moondog, you’re not just making a dream copy of Luna to make me feel better, are you?”

Moondog bristled and took a breath, but Luna quickly held up a hoof in front of its mouth. “I assure you, it is not. If you so desire, I can send you a letter tomorrow confirming this meeting.”

“Sure.” Wings crossed.

“Now, Moondog has informed me of your plight and the proposed solution.” (Of course she knew. Why wouldn’t she?) “I have no qualms against my presence in your book, on two conditions. First of all, that you send the Court all information you have on whoever imprisoned you in the first place. Such mental magics are illegal, and I would hate to have such a criminal wholly evade detection.”

“Oh, absolutely. I can do that.” Daring decided not to mention that she’d been doing that since book 3 and the lack of response meant her letters had probably gotten lost in the bureaucracy every time. Not a good idea to criticize the Court in front of one of its heads.

“Second…” Luna looked Daring in the eye. “Might I ask for an autographed copy of your book upon publication?”

“Your Highness, after what your- daughter did for me, you can have autographed copies of all my books, past and future.”

Luna blinked, then grinned. “Huzzah!” she bellowed, pumping a hoof in the air. “Tia will be so jealous!”

“Moooooom…” Moondog mumbled. It looked away and shielded its face with a wing. “Stop embarrassing me in front of the famous author.”

“ ’Tis my parental right! You know not how pleased this makes me!” Luna smiled proudly at nothing, slowly unfolding and folding her wings. Daring coughed and shuffled from hoof to hoof. Moondog stared resolutely at a knot in the wall as its mane defied gravity and rose up to further block its already wing-shielded face.

Luna soon came down from her high. “If there are no more questions-”

“No, Your Highness,” said Daring.

“-then I must be off. And you,” she said to Moondog, “must not dally too long here. There is still much to do tonight.”

Moondog didn’t look away from the wall. “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t.”

Luna tutted at it, inclined her head to Daring, then leapt gracefully back through the hole in the air.

“Oh, auntiiiieeees,” Moondog groaned, throwing its head back. “I swear, you get her excited, and she turns into a kid in a candy store, only with less dignity.” It dragged a hoof down its face. “She can be so embarrassing.”

Daring couldn’t help but grin. “Heh. Yeah. Parents are like that.”

“Anyway…” Moondog bowed dramatically to Daring. “Pleased to have helped you sort this out. I still can’t say I get why this was so important, but that’s none of my business.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” said Daring. “You’ve never actually written anything. I mean book-written,” she added hastily. “You just make dreams, and half the point of dreams is that they don’t have to make sense.”

“Eh. True,” Moondog admitted. “A genius is only a genius in the field they’re a genius in, and I probably know less about books than you know about nocnice.”

“What’s nocnice?”

“Exactly. Anyway, like Mom said, I gotta get going soon, but before I do…” Moondog tossed an indistinct blob at Daring; by the time she’d caught it, it’d come into focus as a large baseball bat. “Tit for tat, y’know? Trust me, it’ll hurt me just as little as I hurt you.”

Daring looked at the bat. At Moondog. She shrugged and wound up. “If you insist.”

“I don’t insist,” said Moondog. “Just keeping the option open if you-”

And that was when Daring clubbed its head off, out through the window. She watched it sail into the distance and her heart got a little bit lighter.

Moondog peeled away the empty space above its neck as if were a balaclava, revealing a new head from nowhere. It looked out the window. “Ooo, two hundred feet. Not bad.” It smirked at Daring. “Betcha can’t get three.”

“You’re on.”

Halt and Catch Fire

The door was slightly off-kilter, and Moondog found that terrifying.

Contrary to the belief of many ponies, the dream realm actually did have certain rules it worked by. The laws of physics could be out to lunch, but a few specific things had no such lunch break and always worked in a few specific ways. One of those was that the doors to a pony’s subconscious were perfectly vertical and horizontal. Always, no matter what Moondog or even Mom did. It was an order-imposed-by-consciousness thing.

This one was tilted slightly to the left.

Moondog tilted its head one way. Tilted it the other, just to be sure. It’d checked more than a dozen times, but the very idea of a door being tilted out here was creepy, so it crossed its wings and bit its lip and hoped that- Nope, the door was still tilted.

self.psychUp();

“Alright, Moondog,” it said to itself. “There’s nothing wrong with this. Just a tilted door. That’s okay, right? You’ve seen weirder things in dreams. You’ve made weirder things in specific dreams. Heck, you’re a weirder thing.”

“Yeah, but that’s in specific dreams,” it countered. “This is in the collective unconscious. This place has stronger rules.”

“Oh, shut it,” it replied.

But it had a point. This door should not be tilted.

evaluateSafety(strangeDoor);--Error; InvalidDreamException e

Moondog slowly reached out, then slowly withdrew its hoof. What if the tilted door meant there was something bad about the dream? What if it went in and couldn’t get back out? What if there were nocnice inside? Mom would probably know. Moondog seriously considered going to her and asking.

It stopped because it couldn’t just go running to Mom every time it met something it didn’t know. Eventually, it’d have to do its own thing and couldn’t rely on her. Besides, there was a possibility, however small, that Mom actually didn’t know what was up with the door. She’d taught Moondog everything it knew about dream manipulation, nightmare entities, the connection of dreams to the subconscious, and loads and loads of other stuff. And yet she’d never mentioned this. There could still be things even she didn’t know.

So. Go crying to Mom for help? Or take an immense risk? Moondog thought and decided.

“Here goes nothing,” it muttered.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=4d6f6f6e6c6974204d6561646f77&lucid=n");

They may both emit water, but there is a drastic difference between a faucet and a broken water pipe. One is smooth, controlled, and very useful. The other is chaotic, wild, and does nothing but make a mess.

Dreams were the former. This was the latter.

It was barely even a dream, more incoherent expulsions from the mind; Moondog navigated more by feeling than by sight. It was like being in a funhouse, trippy with crazy angles. There was something in there that wanted to solidify into a proper dream, but it kept getting snatched away as the realm twitched and undulated.

But somewhere in it all, Moondog could feel somepony. They were terrified.

Time to do something about it.

dream.settle(MOOD.Default);

At just the right moment, Moondog planted a hoof on the ground and pulsed. Twitches were delayed half an instant and collided with other twitches in just the right way to cancel each other out. At the same time, Moondog dumped energy into the dreamform beneath. No shaping; that wasn’t important right now. It just needed a coherent environment.

From nothingness sprang a gorge, dozens of feet deep and several yards wide. It looked like a long-dry riverbed. An old graveyard, crisscrossed with random crumbling walls and filled with blank tombstones, spanned the bottom. Dead trees dotted the cemetery, the wind howling through their stiff branches. Everything was a dull, monochrome ashen gray. Even the sun seemed to be dying. Not exactly cheery, but it would do for now. And yet-

--Error; UnknownException e

Something about the dream threatened to slip away from Moondog. Something didn’t want to sit still like dreams did. Something wasn’t fully connected with the dreamer’s mind. Something was going to get itself slapped silly if it kept this up.

“H-hello? Mom? Dad? A-anypony?”

The voice wasn’t young, but it wasn’t exactly old, either. A teenager, maybe. 15 or 16. A mare. It wasn’t really coming from any specific location, and it was hard to tell whether that was because of dream logic or just sound echoing around the canyon. For some reason.

acquireDreamer();return:--Error; UnknownException e

Moondog frowned. Normally, it knew everything about the dreamer on instinct once it entered a dream. Why not now? It felt… discombobulated. Out of whack. But it quickly pushed the feeling aside. It had a dream to improve. “Somepony out there?” it called. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“N-no!” the mare yelled. “It’s- How, how did I get here?”

Okay, that was strange. In dreams, either you didn’t question how you got there because you didn’t notice that sort of thing or knew it was a dream and didn’t care. You didn’t question the dream like it was reality. The mind just didn’t work like that.

Whatever the cause, the mare’s talking allowed Moondog to zero in on her location. “Hey, don’t ask me,” Moondog said, walking across the scraggly ground. “It’s your head.” It flitted over a ruined wall into a rundown graveyard.

“…What? I- W-what are you s-saying? I d-did this?”

Even Moondog couldn’t miss the fear in the voice. It dialled things back a bit. “Well, not deliberately.” It approached a gnarled, leafless tree that reached for the sky with twisted branches. “It’s complicated. Minds are like that.”

An earth pony leaned out from behind the tree to look at Moondog. She was about fifteen, with a yellow coat and soft green eyes. Her mane was long, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, pink and white twisted together. She was shaking slightly and blinking a lot. “Who are you?” She took a few tentative steps towards Moondog. “I… I’m Moonlit Meadow, by, by the way. Can- Can you help me get out of here?” Meadow looked around and pulled herself close. “This place scares me,” she whispered.

dream.settle(MOOD.Happy);--Error; UnknownException e

“Well, what about this?” Moondog reached up and, twisting the dream’s textures in just the right way, yanked away the grayness like it was wallpaper. In the space of an instant, grass had sprung up across the bottom of the canyon, the trees were full of leaves, the graveyard had been replaced with a particularly rocky patch of ground, and the sun was shining brightly.

It wasn’t perfect. There was something off about the way it changed, which befuddled Moondog to no end. Absolutely nothing, not even nocnice, had interfered with dream-changing in that particular way before. But the end result was the same, so-

noteToSelf("Ask Mom about error in tweaking dreams");

At the changeover, Meadow yelped, jumping two feet into the air from a sitting position. “What?” she squeaked. “How did you do that?!” She nosed at the ground, as if it would vanish if she poked it too hard. She tentatively bit-

grass.setFlavor(TRUE);

-off a tuft of grass and chewed. She swallowed and stared up at Moondog. “Who are you?”

Moondog chuckled. “Who am I? Who am I?”

boast(GO.Big || GO.Home);

“Moondog the Tantabus, at your service!” Moondog flared its wings and bowed. “The latest and greatest, as well as first and worst, dream apprentice of Princess Luna herself, and her sole psychosomatic descendant! If you want good dreams, I’ve got ’em by the trainload! I’m your all-singing, all-dancing ticket to anywhere! I slice, I dice, I make the best dang julienne fries this side of reality!” Confetti rained from the sky amid thunderous, sourceless applause.

Meadow was simply confused. “What… What are julienne fries? What’s a tantibus? A-are you even a pony?”

self.setAppearance(SPECIES.Abyssinian);

“Well, technically, I’m a pony now.” Moondog reared and quickly remolded itself; soon it was bipedal and feline. “And now I’m an Abyssinian.” It smiled and ran its fingers through its hair. Moondog liked fingers.

Meadow squeaked and shuffled away. “What-? I-! I don’t-” She took a deep breath, rubbed her temples, and screamed, “What is going on? Who are you, what are you, what am I doing here, why aren’t you giving me a straight answer, GAH!”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);

Moondog dropped back into its usual form. “You really don’t know? This is a dream. C’mon, everypony gets that!”

“But I’m not asleep! I-” Meadow frowned and looked away. “I don’t think so, anyway. I…” She hit her head a few times. “I remember a… a fire, and… falling-”

self.setMentalAlarmBells(TRUE);

“-but that’s it.” Meadow glared at Moondog. “Really, who are you and what’s going on?”

Not liking the implications of Meadow’s last memory, Moondog stalled as it thought. What was it supposed to do at a time like this? “Oh, that’s complicated, you know,” it said airily. It waved a hoof around vaguely. “Long story. I’ll, um… I’ll be right back. Stay right here, okay?”

Meadow blinked, then screamed, “Where would I go?”

But Moondog was already gone.

self.setLocation(mom.getLocation());

Mom was turning a river to liquid chocolate for a hydrophobic stallion when Moondog popped up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, um, Mom?”

“Yes, Moondog?” Mom dipped a hoof in the river and licked the chocolate off. Smacking her lips, she said, “Hmm. A bit sweet, I think.”

“You’re leaning way too much on childhood memories of the taste,” Moondog said automatically. That was the mistake it always made. “Adults have it more mellow, smoother, bitterer.” It frowned. “‘Bitterer’? No, that’s not right. Stupid Ponish irregular comparatives.”

Tasting the tweaked river made Mom raise an eyebrow at Moondog. “You knew that?” She sounded a bit… proud.

“I’ve been experimenting with taste,” said Moondog. “Look, Mom, how’re a coma and sleeping different? The pony’s unconscious either way, right?”

“Why?” asked Mom, her voice sharp with worry. “What brought this to mind?”

“Well,” Moondog said, rubbing the back of its neck, “it’s…”

self.setHonestyLevel(100);

“I found a filly who’s- Her dreams are weird and the last thing she remembers is something about a fire, so I, I’m worried she’s in a coma.” Moondog wrung its hooves together. “And there are, you know, ways to wake a pony up from normal sleep, but I don’t want to do anything to her if she’s really comatose and I’d mess things up more.”

“Ah.” Mom’s ears drooped. She lowered her head and took a long draught from the chocolate river. “Ponies are unsure of the precise nature of comas,” she said, “but although your attempts would not harm her, they would not awaken her, either. There is more to sleep than mere unconsciousness. It is a time for relaxation, for the mind to rejuvenate itself. When one enters a coma, it is often because the body is in urgent need of healing and cannot afford exertion. What did the dream feel like?”

“It was… It’s kinda hard to describe.” Moondog looked up at the yellow sky. “It was like… the mind was dreaming, but didn’t know it was dreaming. Kind of a mess. I had to work more than usual to get the dream going how I wanted it and it kept wanting to slip out of that way. I… I really don’t know. And the usual knowledge spells weren’t working right, either.”

“Hmm. In those circumstances, a coma certainly sounds reasonable.” Mom sighed and the dream vanished around them. “It is always unfortunate, to encounter a situation such as that, but it cannot be helped.”

“Ah.” Moondog nodded vaguely, trying to process it all. Just dropping that information on Meadow — Hey, guess what, you’re in a coma! — would be… ugh. But she needed to know, right? She couldn’t just be stuck in that canyon thingamaplace until she woke up — if she woke up. What to do, what to do, how to do it, how to do i-

“Is there something more you need?” asked Mom.

“Nothing,” Moondog said quickly. “I just-”

--Error; ThoughtBufferOverflowException e

“-gotta… go… do… something else.” It paused and hastily flashed a nervous grin at an unconvinced Mom. “Another dusk, another dream, right?” It saluted and was gone.

Once it had something resembling a plan, Moondog covered its return to Meadow’s dream with a teleportation spark. The dream hadn’t changed much since Moondog had left, although it was maybe a little bit grayer. Meadow was sitting at the base of the tree, half-heartedly sketching out pictures it the dirt. When she heard Moondog arrive, she looked up, and you didn’t need magic to recognize the suspicion in her expression.

understate();

Moondog sat down some distance from her, giving her space. “Hey,” it said. “We kinda got off on the wrong hoof.”

Meadow’s lack of reaction spoke volumes.

“So let’s start over, ’kay?” Moondog went over its method of easing Meadow into the whole deal one last time, then said, “Right now, you’re in the dream realm.”

Meadow’s response was so quick it was practically reflexive. “But I’m not-”

“We’re getting to that,” Moondog said, holding up a hoof, “hold your horses. I’m Moondog, and I technically don’t exist. I was made by Princess Luna to help her in patrolling the dream realm. Basically, I’m just a blob of magic that thinks it’s something special.” It grinned lopsidedly. “I mean, did you think this-” It tossed its mane back and flared its wings wide, making sure its starry palette was as visible as possible. “-was real?”

“I just thought you did something weird to your coat,” Meadow said, “like the crystal ponies.”

There were times when magic took all the fun out of being magical.

“So… that means…” Meadow frowned and scratched the back of her neck. “You can control dreams? Like Princess Luna?”

“Yeah.” Moondog reached up and flicked a hoof through the sky, ignoring the coma’s mild jolts of pain. The sun raced to the horizon and day turned to night in seconds. As the moon soared to its peak, Moondog yanked it down. “It’s not that hard,” Moondog said, holding the foot-wide ball out to Meadow.

Meadow’s hooves twitched as she slowly reached out. She touched the moon, froze for an instant, and delicately plucked it from Moondog’s grasp. “Whoa,” she whispered, turning it over. She reached up and placed the moon back in the sky. Then she tried to grab it again, but it was too far away. “Whoa,” she said again. “That’s- I bet you could make better dreams than Luna.”

Moondog let out a quick, barklike laugh. “Oh, heck no. Mom could run rings around me in her sleep!” When Meadow tilted her head in confusion, Moondog could almost see her brain struggling to parse that sentence. “Metaphorically, I mean. Well, I guess literally, too. I wonder if she’s where that phrase came from…”

Meadow stared for a moment, then looked around the canyon. “So if this is the dream realm, how did I get here?” She stood up and started walking around. “I know I didn’t fall asleep.”

self.psychUp();

Unable to think of anything more gentle, Moondog said, “You’re in a coma.”

The entire dream twitched painfully, some grass turning gray. Meadow froze as she stared at a cloud. “W-what?”

“You’re in a coma. I think- Your house must’ve caught on fire or something.” Moondog was painfully aware that its bedside manner left a lot to be desired. “And now you’re here. Sorry.”

“B-but… This- I-” Meadow collapsed onto her rump, blinking. “You- You’re a- dream thingy! C-can’t you wake me up?” More color drained from the world, some plants withering to ash.

“If I could,” Moondog said, holding back a sigh, “I totally would. Really. But I can’t.” Why’d it decided to tell Meadow the truth, anyway? It should’ve taken her lucidity and been done with it. But then, planning ahead normally didn’t matter when nothing lasted more than a few hours.

“What?! But… my parents are out there, my family’s out there, my friends are out there… My- My life is out there! It-” Meadow cringed and looked away. “I-I don’t w-want to stay h-here. I sh-shouldn’t be here. I- I-” Holding her head in her hooves, she tried to force her words out, but they didn’t come. “I wanna go home…”

dream.settle(MOOD.Happy);--Error; UnknownException e

Moondog fluttered up to her, green haphazardly cascading from its shadow, and lightly put a hoof on her shoulder. Meadow immediately latched onto it, burying her face in its mane. Little gasps escaped her as she shook.

“Look,” said Moondog softly. “I need to leave. I have a job to do. But do you want me to come back when I can?”

“P-please. It’s so lonely here…”

Moondog let Meadow cling to it for several long moments. Let her have it. It’d probably be the closest thing to a happy experience she’d have for a whi- Idea…

dream.settle(MOOD.Happy_Memories);--Error; UnknownException edreamer.allowLucidity(FALSE);

Moondog held its nonexistent breath, but even as the dream stumbled awkwardly into Meadow’s past experiences, nothing felt wrong about her lucidity slipping away from her. With any luck, she wouldn’t be aware of loneliness or boredom.

Now. What would Mom say?

“…so I did the best I could,” Moondog said to Mom as it paced back and forth across a path of stars, “but she’s still comatose, and I-” It flared its wings in frustration. “I don’t know what to do! How do you get ponies up again?”

Mom had stared pensively at Moondog throughout the whole explanation, never interrupting it, never saying a word. Finally, with Moondog finished, she rustled her wings, took a deep breath, and said in an almost pained voice, “I can’t.”

“But-! If we- Uffh, fudge.” Moondog had been afraid of that. It ran a hoof through its mane. “I really shouldn’t have told her that, should I?”

“Perhaps not.” Mom could only be more stone-faced by being actual stone.

“Friggety. And it- feels like the dream’s just gonna fall apart sooner or later, so I’ve gotta hang around to make sure-”

“No.” Mom’s voice was solid, a statement of fact, yet she sounded reluctant at the same time.

Moondog flinched and looked up. “Mom, she’s like fifteen and she’s trapped in a strange place with literally nopony else around, not even her parents or friends, I can’t just let her dreams turn on her! I know I’d have to let some other nightmares get away, but-”

“You cannot attend one pony to the detriment of others, either,” said Mom. She took a deep breath, like she didn’t want to say what she was saying. “And if you neglect others’ dreams-”

“Mom, I- I don’t think you get it.” The stars in Moondog’s coat began twisting around each other. “I have one job — just one! — and that’s make good dreams. But you’re telling me to stay away from-”

“It’s not that simple,” Mom said, uncomfortably flexing her wings. “We care for all of Equestria. Should you devote all your time to this one pony, well-intentioned though it may be, you will miss the big picture.”

“Equestria’s a photomosaic, you know,” Moondog mumbled. “The big picture is made up of lots of little pictures.”

“That may be, but-”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

“Hold up. All my time?” asked Moondog. It flew up to Mom’s eye level. “Mom, how long do you think I’m going to be in her head?”

Mom blinked. Slowly, she said, “How long were you planning?”

“I dunno, maybe half an hour every day? Ish? It doesn’t need that much maintenance.” Without falling, Moondog paused in its flapping to make a noncommittal gesture with one of its wings. “And I’ve still got other stuff that needs doing, so I can’t skimp for much more than-”

“You define taking a half-hour break in between working for countless hours on end as skimping?” Mom asked quietly.

Moondog shrugged. “Making good dreams is kinda, y’know, my job, so I thought, like, if I wasn’t doing that-”

“It is my job as well, and yet I do not devote all my time to it,” said Mom. “I need rest, relaxation, ‘me’ time, so I take breaks. Why shouldn’t you?”

“I’m not a pony, so I kinda don’t need those things, so I thought-”

Mom waved a hoof dismissively. “That is irrelevant. How many ponies dream of things they want but do not need? I apologize for not making myself sufficiently clear earlier. It…” She unfolded and folded her wings as she paused. Moondog knew enough about her to tell that she was looking for the right way to phrase something, possibly without offending it. “It can be easy to… to forget-”

tension.break();

“That I’m barely a year old and know pretty much jack squat about the real world?” suggested Moondog, landing on the lack of ground again.

Mom couldn’t help smiling a little. “In essence. One is supposed to have a decade and a half of parenting before a child becomes remotely self-sufficient, not the mere months I have had with you. Even so, I certainly would not have described you in that manner.”

return: TRUE

“Mom, my self-awareness does include my own limits, you know. Usually.”

“That is true for astonishingly few ponies.” Mom flexed her wings and briefly looked over her shoulder at something Moondog wasn’t aware of. “I leave it to you to decide how much time with Meadow is sufficient. I shall trust your judgment on this matter. But if you remain worried about the rest of your work, might I offer some advice? Care for this pony during the day. You-”

“Yeah, yeah, less ponies asleep, less nightmares missed, I know,” said Moondog, waving Mom away. “I was planning on it.”

“Let me know what you learn about comas, if anything. Perhaps you could teach me.”

“Heh. That’ll be the day.”

By the time Moondog returned to Meadow’s “dream”, it was on the brink of collapsing into incoherent static again. With a slight twist, Moondog pulled it back to the canyon. Meadow was sitting beneath a tree, staring at nothing in particular. She turned to Moondog once it teleported in and pulled herself up to sit straighter. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” mumbled Meadow. She sounded like she was trying to sound tough. “I’m fifteen, and I was crying like a baby, and- Yeah.” She sniffed.

“Apology accepted,” said Moondog. “Won’t tell anypony.” It peeled off its mouth and tossed it away.

Meadow smiled weakly. “Thanks. That goes double for my sister.” She got up, flexing her legs. “So what’re you doing back here?”

self.setMouth(TRUE);

“Getting stuck inside your own head has gotta be a bit dull,” said Moondog. “I’m gonna stop by here every now and then to keep things interesting for you until you’re better. If that’s what you want, of course.”

“For- For me?” Meadow asked, putting a hoof on her chest. “Why? Don’t, don’t you have other stuff you need to do?”

“I can manage. Trust me.” Moondog walked up to Meadow, surreptitiously shrinking itself so the two of them were about the same size. “You’re in trouble. I can help. So why not?”

Meadow stared at the ground, but Moondog recognized the posture as thoughtful, not aversive. The idea of being able to do anything was often overwhelming for ponies, for some reason. Finally, Meadow asked, “So what can you do?”

“The only limits to that are your imagination,” Moondog said, smirking, “and believe me…” It stomped, shaking the entire canyon to its foundations.

for (i in range(6)) {    dream.settle(MOOD.Random);}

As the canyon folded backwards on itself, Moondog reared, spreading its wings and legs wide. “…that ain’t hyperbole at all.” Every few seconds, the dream fell into a new scene: a rainy city of skyscrapers, drenched in black and neon. A grey void filled with countless floating mirrors. The rings of a gas giant. The middle of a hurricane. An underwater volcano that spewed red smoke. Endless rolling plains.

Meadow would’ve yelped, but she had to spit out an eel first. It slithered into the grass and vanished. After she was done coughing, Meadow said angrily, “Could you, like, not do that? I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She sat down and rubbed her stomach.

“Gotcha. No rapid environment changes.”

dreamer.setNauseaLevel(0);

Moondog sat down in front of Meadow and smiled. “So. What do you want to do?”

“Mom? Could you… do me a favor? You know that filly in a coma? She’s… Her name’s Moonlit Meadow and she lives in Halterdale. Do you… think you could… maybe… I mean, if, if you have the time… I was just wondering…”

spitOutThoughts();

“Could you find her hospital records or something and tell me how she’s doing? I know it’s probably not great, but…”

“I shall do my best.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Moondog asked.

“I’m comatose. Am I supposed to feel okay?” Meadow replied. She leaned further over the ledge, staring down into the cenote.

“The kinda-mopey, things-are-bad-but-I-guess-they-could-be-worse sorta-okay, at least.” Meadow had been like that for a while, but it was hard to blame her; how much fun could you really have when you knew your body could be dying? Moondog swung itself down to the vertical portion of the ridge, jiggled with the gravity, and sat down. “Are you that? Or are you actually depressed about something?”

“Not really ‘depressed’, more…” Meadow sighed. “My sister would’ve loved it here. We always wanted to go cliff jumping in something like this, but our family just never had the money to go to Mexicolt.” She kicked a stone into space. Several seconds passed before they heard the splash. “And I feel kinda guilty for doing this without her, even if it’s not real.”

“Ah.” Moondog cartwheeled back up to level ground and sat next to Meadow. “Miss her?” It’d never really wanted siblings, although it could see the appeal. Kinda. Maybe.

“A lot, yeah. I know siblings are supposed to be at each others’ throats, but she’s cool.”

“Hmm.” But if a sister was a friendly face…

acquireDreamer();return:--Error; UnknownException e

Still no chance of getting Meadow’s memories of her, either. Daggit. “What was she like?” Moondog asked. It traced out the shape of a blank white, featureless pony in the air. “Maybe I can, like, make a dream copy of her, and-”

“I don’t think that’d work.” Meadow fell back onto the ridge and stared up at the sky. “I’d know it wasn’t really her, and- it wouldn’t- feel right. I’d be cheating.”

“Oh.” Stupid unreality. Moondog flexed its wings, considering whether or not it should be offended. It settled on “no”. “Are you sure you’re sorta-okay? It’s just cliff diving. It’s not even real.”

“I don’t know,” Meadow said. “It’s weird. I, just, I feel like I shouldn’t do it. I can’t explain it.” She got up again, looked down at the water again, and sighed. “Thanks for trying, but I don't think there's anything that can get me down there.”

dreamer.shove();

“Her house caught on fire during the night and her bedroom door was blocked. She attempted to climb down via the tree outside her window, but a branch broke, and she fell, hit her head, and lapsed into unconsciousness. That was over half a moon ago.”

“So… she… might not ever wake up.”

“She may not. She may. Ponies have survived worse. It is hard to say, even for professionals.”

“Here’s hoping. Thanks.”

The pirate ship rocked slightly against the oncoming waves. In the distance, a whale broke the surface of the water, hung for a split second, then crashed back down. “So if you’re like a… golem or something,” said Meadow, “do you remember what it was like when you woke up? Or were activated or whatever?”

whale.breach();

“Kinda, not really,” Moondog said, watching another whale jump. “It’s… I had all these stimuli, but I didn’t know what they meant. Doing some things felt good, doing others felt bad, but I didn’t know what I was doing.” It didn’t think about its creation much. It was a thing that had happened, so why linger on it? “Then, suddenly, it all clicked and everything made sense. I couldn’t even believe I’d been that stupid before. It’d been like I was drunk before.”

“…I’m fifteen. It’d be bad if I knew what that felt like.”

“Right. Sorry.” Moondog planted its hoof in its face. “Do you play any instruments? Piano, guitar, theremin?”

“Mom pushed me to play the piano,” said Meadow. “And… I actually didn’t hate it.” She smiled and the waves grew slightly smaller. “I still play a little. It’s fun.”

“Guess mothers know best, right?” Mom certainly did.

“This time. Why?”

“Take the times when you learned something new about playing music, finally understanding what it meant after seeing it elsewhere, then apply it to literally everything, and that was me waking up in a nutshell.”

Meadow stared out over the ocean, frowning as she thought. “That… That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Moondog said with a shrug. “But that’s what it was like.”

“Weird,” muttered Meadow. She blinked a few times, then leaned over the railing to look down at the water. “I wanna go for a swim. Can you-?”

dreamer.setWaterBreathing(TRUE);ocean.setTemperature(WARM.Somewhat);

“Already done,” said Moondog. “Come on.” It walked into thin air as the railing pulled itself apart and reassembled into a diving board.

“You know,” Meadow said, looking down from the board as she bounced up and down, “when I get up, Dad’s gonna freak at how good my diving is. I’ve been trying to learn it for, like, ever.”

“‘Yes, Dad,’” Moondog said in Meadow’s voice. “‘A figment of somepony else’s imagination taught me how to dive while I was unconscious.’”

“Your name should’ve been ‘Figment’ or something. ‘Moondog’s’ weird.” Meadow jumped from the board and dove into the ocean, plunging beneath the water with nary a splash.

“Well, I like it,” pouted Moondog.

“Meadow’s condition is unchanged.”

“It’s been almost a moon. Shouldn’t she…?”

“I cannot say. I lack medical experience with comas. I do not know what this means for her survival.”

Moondog watched Meadow skate without skates around the rings of a gas giant, thinking to itself. It’d been forming an idea for several nights, now, and the more it bounced the idea back and forth, the more the idea felt like a good one. Meadow didn't belong here, and the knowledge of her coma would work its way into every good experience she could have. Besides, she had family waiting for her.

“What’ll you do when I’m gone?” Meadow asked as she passed by Moondog again.

Moondog pushed off her asteroid and drifted over to Meadow. “Same thing I do when pretty much everypony else is gone during the day. Keep working on dreams.” It flared its wings to glide to a halt right next to her, vacuum of space notwithstanding.

“But you’ll miss me, right?” Meadow kicked off and started skating again.

“Oh, sure,” said Moondog. It skated off after her. “Not counting Mom, you’re the pony I’ve talked with the most.”

“…That’s depressing.”

“Eh. I don’t mind.”

self.gatherThoughts();

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” Moondog said. “I might know of a way to wake you up.”

Meadow whipped around to Moondog, her mouth hanging open. “What? How?”

“Well, it’s- I’m already in your head, right? So if I go deeper, maybe I can, y’know, find out what’s going on in your unconscious. Maybe. I dunno, I’m kinda playing this by ear. So…” Terrible, terrible bedside manner. Moondog took a deep breath. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to try. I promise I’ll be careful.”

Meadow looked at her spacesuit and at the nebula that surrounded them. Looking down, she shuffled her hooves. “Well,” she mumbled, “I… don’t want you to-”

“Look, I won’t be offended. You belong in the physical world.”

“Then…” Meadow kept looking down for another few moments, then nodded. “Yeah. I… I miss my family.” She sniffed a little. “Just don’t touch anything else in there, okay?”

Moondog grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Booooooooo.”

“Now hold still.” Moondog lightly touched its horn to Meadow’s head and-

dreamer.viewSource();

-the world collapsed in on itself as sensation exploded.

MOV  $md, PDX

The realm Moondog dove into was indescribable, pure feeling and perception. It wasn’t black; there was simply nothing to see. It wasn’t silent; there was simply nothing to hear. Nothing existed, not even space, except thought, impression, and gut instinct. Fortunately, Moondog was essentially a construct of thought, perception, and gut instinct. It’d never been in the direct unconscious like this, but it felt right at home, almost even more than in dreams. It casually drifted from idea to idea, from concept to concept.

MOV  $md, PIPMOV  $md, PSXMOV  $md, PTX

It wasn’t sure what it was looking for, but it figured- There. That wasn’t right. Moondog had never perceived something like that, but that definitely wasn’t right. In laymare’s terms, there was a gap between thinking and doing. (It actually wasn’t like that at all, but the specifics of the concept defied words.) Signals came from the eyes, but the brain didn’t get them. Ideas came from the mind, but the muscles wouldn’t act on them. Whether it was due to brain damage or something else, Moondog couldn’t tell. But maybe it could do something about it.

POP  PMDPUSH PACPOP  PMDPUSH PAC

It started, for lack of a better term, pulling, trying to close the gap. The two sides had to be connected, or else mind and body would stay separated. Something like that. And it wasn’t like pulling at all, closer to recoloring a painting to make it more like another painting. Except not really. Moondog suspected that the necessary terms for whatever it was doing hadn’t been invented yet.

It was hard at first. One side or the other barely budged. And yet budge they did. Moondog kept pulling. With time quantified exactly the same way as any other sensation rather than passing, it didn’t know how long it pulled, but it never thought of stopping. Slowly, the gap shrank. Moondog plucked little bits of energy from itself to accelerate the process. It’d grow back. Meadow needed to wake up.

After an eternal instant, the gap was nearly closed. Moondog kept pulling, harder and harder. Thoughts and actions met and-

SYSCALL--Error; the memory could not be read. Rebooting...

-suddenly Moondog was back in the collective unconscious. Meadow’s door was gone, as if she’d woken up. Moondog was tingling all over. It shook itself off. Gah, getting thrown out of a dream when the pony woke up was a terrible feeling.

Moondog examined the space where Meadow’s dream had been. When somepony woke up there was never any indication that their dream had existed in the first place, and this was no exception. Well, if she woke up normally, that was a good sign. Moondog wished it had felt the dream in the split second before Meadow had woken up, but it had all happened too fast. Well, time to check in in twenty-four hours or so and see what had happened.

Although it was probably best that Mom know about Meadow, too.

“You what?!” shrieked Mom.

“Mom, Mom, calm down, I-”

“I learn that you inserted yourself directly into a pony’s unfiltered unconscious,” Mom bellowed, “and you expect me to calm myself?! Have you the slightest inkling of the risks involved? To you or her? Or did you simply dive without thinking?”

“Mom! We-”

“You need to restrain yourself! You cannot simply do as you please with your access to ponies’ minds! Within this realm, you and I can only be held accountable by ourselves, and I should hope I will not be constantly required to step in to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“Mom! Let me-”

“I let your earlier impropriety against those robbers slide, as they were ultimately criminals, but now I wonder if that was ideal. You were fortunate they followed through.”

“For the last time, if they weren’t serious, I wouldn’t’ve told anypony!” protested Moondog. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

Mom sighed and her voice softened. “In all honesty? I do not know. I did not give you any sort of legal knowledge, and yet you knew that robberies were wrong anyway and still told somepony. I told you nothing of writing, and yet you took it upon yourself to personally help a struggling author.” Her words regained their edge. “And in spite of those, you decided that directly interfering with a pony’s unconscious was acceptable.”

Under her withering glare, Moondog stared at the lack of floor beneath its hooves. “It’s not that simple,” it muttered, painfully aware of how weak a protest that was.

“Oh?” Mom raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Mom, I-” Moondog took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’ve never said this before, but…” It raised its head to look Mom in the eye. “I love you. I really, really do. I was an accident from day one, and you didn’t just- shut me down. You set me free, you’ve let me grow, you’ve answered every question I’ve had… You’re always there for me. Always. And I- When I looked at Meadow, it’s- She knew none of this was real, that she might never see her family again, and- I couldn’t imagine that happening to me! I- I couldn’t not help her.”

Mom twitched and pulled her head back. “You… I…” She looked away, her mouth moving soundlessly.

“I- I know it… that normally it’d be… bad,” said Moondog. “But- But it was the only thing I could do!” It flapped its wings and danced in place. “I- I- I couldn’t even just ignore it, my entire point is doing something for dreams, and-” It hung its head and its wings went limp. “I just wanted to help,” it mumbled.

self.wrestle(self.getEmotionalState());--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e--Error; ThoughtBufferOverflowException e

“I’ll… just… get to the next dream,” it said quietly, turning away. “I promise I won’t-”

“Wait.” Mom reached out with a wing and lightly pulled Moondog close. Lightly enough that Moondog could, if it wanted, simply walk away or even plant its hooves and stay put.

Moondog shuffled next to Mom and buried its face in her mane. “I’m sorry, Mom,” it whispered.

“You are forgiven,” Mom said, stroking its mane. “I am partly to blame. I ought to have remembered that you lacked full knowledge of dream etiquette. I… merely assumed…” She sighed. “Again, it is easy to forget your origins, at times, and that you still have much to learn.”

self.wrestle(self.getEmotionalState());

“You ponies spend years just learning how to talk,” said Moondog. It tried and failed to grin. “It’s not my fault you’re so slow.”

“Still, impulse control is hardly a strength of yours.”

“No.” Moondog rubbed its head against Mom’s neck.

“So how did you do it?”

Moondog looked up, frowning. “Ten seconds ago, you were peeved that I did that,” it said, stars burning brightly in its mane, “and now you want me to tell you how to do it?”

“You did the equivalent of passing a burning match through an unknown gas, which most anypony could tell you is less than intelligent. But if we can understand what you did, know how it works, we can do it more safely. Awakening somepony from a coma is certainly not something to be ignored.” Mom frowned slightly. “Even if your method of testing it was less than ideal.”

disentangle(momHug);

“Alright.” Moondog pushed away from Mom, flowing around her feathers. “It’s easy. You know the magic we do to get into dreams? I just did that on the next subconscious level down. You get into the-”

“Pardon?” Mom’s wings twitched and her brow furrowed in confusion. “The… next subconscious level down?”

Moondog tilted its head. “Yeah. The place dreams come from. Where else?”

“That… portion of the mind is incomprehensible to ponies,” Mom said slowly. “It is impossible to navigate.”

“I comprehended and navigated it just fine,” Moondog said with a shrug. “It was hard and I totally don’t wanna go there again, but I could.”

“My own spells cannot access it.” Mom’s words were direct half at herself. “And you simply used the normal dreamwalking spell?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I guess I, uh, kinda… tweaked it. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you not try?”

“Well, it’s the best I can do. Can, can you gimme a sec so I can think?”

ponder();

It wasn’t long before Moondog got it. “How do you move your leg?”

Mom opened her mouth and promptly closed it again. She raised her leg, looked at it. She wiggled her hoof back and forth, frowning. “…I can see the difficulty,” she mused.

“Really, I just go in,” said Moondog, miming a dive with its hooves. “I can’t get a better description than that.”

Mom stared up and made small popping noises with her mouth. “Perhaps, as a creature of the mind,” she said, “you can understand the mind better than I. I wonder…”

“Maybe you should just lock me in some researcher’s head for a week so she can study me,” Moondog joked.

self.setSerious(TRUE);

“No, really,” it added, “I wouldn’t mind learning more about me, as long as it doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Hmm.”

Almost as an afterthought, Moondog added, “I’ll swing by Meadow’s dreams tonight and see how she’s doing. I didn’t really get a chance to check earlier, ’cause of, y’know, reasons.” It needed to do this, even if something terrible had happened to Meadow’s mind.

“Let me know how she fares.”

As a partially-mental world, the dream realm could naturally get skewed by its inhabitants’ state of mind. When Moondog dreaded being forced to see what it had done to Meadow, time slowed so it wouldn’t have to see. When Moondog dreaded being forced to wait to see what it had done to Meadow, time sped up so it wouldn’t have to wait. Although Moondog was perfectly used to that sort of thing, it definitely made the wait itself a huge hassle.

But Meadow had finally fallen asleep and Moondog was in front of her door. It looked exactly the same as it had before, only now the lines that were supposed to be straight up and down were straight up and down. Just like every other door.

evaluateSafety(door);return: SAFE.Completely

“Okay,” said Moondog. “So far, so good, so don’t turn back.”

self.psychUp();

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Here goes nothing,” it muttered.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=4d6f6f6e6c6974204d6561646f77&lucid=n");

The dream felt like a dream: the idle flights of fancy of a well-ordered mind, with no fake feeling of lies. This particular dream was an ocean. Endless, featureless, completely flat, perfectly mirroring an utterly white sky. Strange, shimmering, almost lepidopteran songbirds flew carelessly above it. And easily twirling on the surface of the ocean without casting a single ripple was Meadow.

flock.selectRandomActor().approach(self);

One of the “birds” detached from the flock, flew over to Moondog, and landed on its outstretched hoof, exactly as directed. No painful surprises. No weird slips. The dream was a dream, it seemed, it seemed. As the bird preened one of its four glittering wings, Moondog glanced over at Meadow.

bird.feedLines(self.getThoughts());

“Oh, just get over there, you wuss,” squawked the bird, and flew off.

“Am I really that mouthy to myself?” Moondog muttered. “Oh, well.”

self.inhabit(dreamer.getReflection());

Moondog quietly slipped into Meadow’s reflection. With no fanfare, the mirrored pony stopped copying Meadow’s dancing and simply watched her. She didn’t notice for several moments until she happened to look down and realized her reflection was sitting down and she was standing up. Lucidity hadn’t fully kicked in yet, so the weirdness didn’t register. Meadow smiled. “Hey.”

Moondog smiled back. “Yo.”

“What’s it like down there?”

“Down here? No, you’re the one that’s down.”

Meadow looked up and pondered this. In dream logic, it made perfect sense. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

She looked back down. “Sorry.” Then she blinked and frowned. “Hold on. You’re…”

Moondog, back in its usual shape, smirked. “Yeah. I am. Why do you think this is up and that’s down?” It dove through the surface of the ocean and alighted on the same side as Meadow. “So what’s it like out there?”

Meadow stared at Moondog for another few moments before the question registered. She smiled and blinked glistening eyes. “It- It’s… real. Thank you.” She started laughing; blue began to blur into the white as the featureless background dissolved into an almost-clear sky. “It was…” She wiped her eyes. “I, I saw… Mom was sitting at my bed when I woke up, I think she was telling me about her day so I’d have something to hear, and then she saw that I was awake, and I’ve never seen her so happy, and…” She tackled Moondog in a bear hug. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Um. Sure.” Moondog reached out, froze, and awkwardly stroked Meadow’s mane. “You, you don’t feel insane in the brain or anything?”

“No, my brain’s fine.” Meadow squeezed tighter. “I feel great.”

“Glad I could help.”

self.disentangle(meadowHug);

Moondog flowed around Meadow’s legs (leaving her to fall over from the sudden lack of support) and alighted on the ocean. “So, now that you don’t have the specter of death ominously looming over you like an exam you haven’t studied for, do you want anything?”

“You don’t mind?” Meadow asked as she got to her hooves. “You’ve already done a lot for me and I’m fine now.”

Moondog shrugged. “It’s literally what I was born to do. What, did you think you not being comatose anymore meant I’d avoid your dreams?”

“If…” Meadow chewed on her lip and pawed at the ground. “If you really want to do it, I… I’ve always wanted to be a hippogriff. I mean, it seems really-”

dream.settle(MOOD.Soaring);dreamer.setAppearance(SPECIES.Hippogriff);

The surface beneath Meadow vanished. She plummeted down through the clouds that had once been reflections and towards towering spires of rock that appeared below. She started screaming, scrabbling at the air with her claws, beating her wings to slow-

When she started hovering, she gawked at her wings for several long moments. Then she gawked at her claws for several long moments. Then she tried to gawk at her beak, but its short length meant she had trouble seeing it; she settled for poking at it with her claws.

Moondog dropped into her field of view, hovering upside-down without bothering to flap. “So?” it asked, smiling. “You like?”

“OhCelestiathisisamazing!” squealed Meadow. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She folded her wings and swooped beneath a rocky bridge, screaming in ecstacy. She scrabbled up a spire-

self.setLocation(mountainTop);

-and twitched to find Moondog already perched on top of it. “You’re welcome. Flying is pretty common, but hey, it’s hard to argue with that. Anything else?”

Meadow opened her mouth, paused as if she was thinking, then said, “Well, uh, I, um, I’m gonna be in the hospital for a while longer, and I can’t really go out ’cause I’ve got two broken legs and need to do physical therapy, so, uh, do you think you could… stop by sometime soon? If, if you’ve got the time. It’s…” She ran her claws through her mane. “I won’t be able to get out much, and you can…” She grinned and flared her wings. Then she frowned, flexed one, and stared at it. “How am I using these so well?”

Moondog laughed and ruffled Meadow’s mane. “Kid, I can swing by every day if you want me to.”

self.getLeg().setIntangible(TRUE);

“I’m fifteen,” growled Meadow. She grabbed at Moondog’s leg, but her claws passed straight through. “Don’t call me ‘kid’.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, kid, and you can call me whatever you want.”

“Fine, Doggo.”

“Doggo it is. Woof woof. So how often?”

Meadow pushed away from Moondog. “Once every two or three days is fine. I need to get used to reality again.”

Moondog saluted and rolled down a piece of the sky, revealing an exit door behind it. “Sure thing. I’ll see you around, and don’t let reality get you down.”

“Don’t worry!” Meadow yelled, leaping from the summit. “I won’t!” She plunged through the clouds and was gone.

Corner Cases

Starlight shuffled from hoof to hoof as Twilight fluttered around the upper shelves of the library. “You wanted Practical Dream Magic: A Novice’s Guide, right?” Twilight yelled down.

“Right!” said Starlight.

Twilight plucked a certain book from the shelves and dropped back down to the floor. “How come?” she asked as she passed the aged book over. “This isn’t about that dream you had last night about Daybreaker and Nightmare Moon, is it?”

“It’s not that,” Starlight said quickly (yes, it was, it’d been terrifying). “It’s just… IIIIII… don’t think I should… rely on Luna’s help whenever I have nightmares.”

“Or Celestia. She wasn’t that bad at dream wrangling.”

“She spent all night with just me! Anyway, even if I can’t go full-blown dreamwalking, this-” Starlight tapped the book’s ancient cover. “-should at least help me stop myself from having nightmares.” And living with Twilight, it was practically inevitable that she’d experience something worse sooner or later that would give her worse nightmares.

Twilight rustled her wings and frowned. “You know it’s over five centuries out of date, right? A few years ago, I sent a copy to Luna for her to look over and she thanked me for the wonderful gift of a joke book.” Her eye and ear both twitched as she started breathing deeply. “I know it’s old,” she said through clenched teeth, “but Nimitybelle’s. Best work. Is not. A joke book!”

“It’s better than nothing,” Starlight said, backing up a step, “and I- You know what I’ll just leave you be okay bye.” A teleporting pop, and she was in her room. Thankfully, Twilight didn’t go into a full-blown meltdown, or at least not one that could be heard from her room. That mare could get insanely creative with her curses when the worth of a book was on the line.

Starlight sat down at her desk and cracked open the book to the introduction. “It remains unknown just why we dream,” she read, “or even the precise nature of blah blah blah. Where’s the magic?” She fanned ahead a few dozen pages. “There’s the magic. To dispel spirits of malice, one must…”

No wonder Luna was still Equestria’s foremost expert on dream magic even after vanishing for a millennium; dream magic made as much sense as Pinkie Pie, which was to say, none at all. The designs for the spells looped and twisted in countless impossible ways and broke all sorts of laws of magic and generally blew raspberries at anything resembling proper thaumodynamics. Several of them seemed to require Starlight to have at least two horns. She committed the spells to memory nonetheless. Maybe they’d make more sense in a place where everything blew raspberries at anything resembling the natural order.

When Starlight went to bed that night, she focused on dreams, nightmares, and being aware of them, hoping that was how lucid dreaming worked. Knowing spells that could only work in dreams wouldn’t do much good if she didn’t know she was in a dream. Thoughts of the spells ran through her mind, performing perfect steeplechases. She’d remember those, at least.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly she was sprawled on the lack of a floor in a white void, breathing heavily. Her thinking of dreams must’ve worked, because she recognized the situation as a dream perfectly. Kind of a boring place to practice dream magic in, but it would have to-

A shadow fell on her; she slowly looked up. Standing over her was an alicorn-shaped hole in space, smiling a smile with lots and lots and lots and lots of very sharp teeth. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” it said. “You switched my mom’s and aunt’s cutie marks.” It shoved its head in her face. “I don’t like it when ponies switch my mom’s and aunt’s cutie marks.”

Of course. Rolling onto her back, Starlight raised an eyebrow. “Does that happen a lot or something?”

Several stars in the alicorn’s mane winked out. “W-well… no, but… Look, with Mom out of action, I spent like all of last night managing the dream realm pretty much single-hoofedly! I’m not even one yet!”

“Uh-huh.” Starlight nudged the alicorn’s head away and stood up. “Nice to meet you too, Moondog.”

“Oh, come on!” yelled Moondog. “Stop undercutting me! I had this whole speech prepared and everything! It was big and dramatic and-”

“-all about how you’re my worst nightmare?”

“What? No!” Moondog puffed out its chest and wings. “Of course not! What kind of clichéd moron do you take me for? You think that I-” Putting a hoof on its chest, it held its head high. “-Duchess of Dreams, would use something so predictable? Ha! As if! But, no, you just had to throw off my groove. Jerk.” It narrowed its eyes. “Still, you must face the Procession of Shame!”

And suddenly Starlight was flanked by Nightmare Moon and Daybreaker, glowering down at her with murder in their eyes. She squeaked like a mouse getting stepped on and cowered on the ground. She curled into a ball and pulled her legs over her head. “I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry!” she wailed. “It was a mistake! I didn’t mean-”

“Shame!” said Nightmare Moon. “Shame! Shame.”

“Bad unicorn!” said Daybreaker sternly. Very sternly.

“Shame,” Nightmare Moon growled.

As the expected godlike spell-slinging remained absent, Starlight’s ears went up and she peeked out from behind her legs, frowning. “Uh…”

A corrupted version of Cadance coalesced from nothing, her mane crackling with pink lightning. Heartbreaker? Mad Love? “Shaaaaaaaame,” she hissed as she pointed at Starlight.

The alicorns circled around Starlight, repeating, “Shame!”, and her patience vanished in seconds. “This is your idea of getting back at me?” she asked. “Really? A high-schooler wouldn’t find this that bad!”

“Oh, maybe not now,” Moondog said airily. “But ask me again in eight hours, when-”

“Okay, yeah, no,” Starlight said flatly. Could dream magic work on a being made of dream magic? Only one way to find out. She closed her eyes and focused on the nightmare-banishing spell. The ways it worked almost made sense now. She didn’t remember everything, but she was sure she could fill in the blanks. She gathered her magic and the entire dream twitched.

“Whoa, wait.” Moondog sounded nervous all of a sudden as it shuffled away from Starlight. “Hold up, what’re you-”

Dzzt.

Pancakes. Delicious, fluffy pancakes. Twilight adored them, she did. They were just right: strong enough to hold a lot of syrup, soft enough to be easily chewable, light enough to not slide off the fork, flavorful enough to add their own taste to the syrup, mild enough to let the flavors mingle rather than one over power the other… And so on and so forth. Heck yeah. Pancakes.

Twilight had woken up just before sunrise almost perfectly content. Good night’s sleep? Check. Weekend with nothing to do? Check. Sunny morning scheduled? Check. Perfect-for-reading mild evening rain scheduled? Check. New book started just last night? You bet your biscuits that was a check and a half. The day could practically throw a meteor at her without it dampening her mood. (She’d hurriedly run to the window. No meteor.)

She tiptoed to the kitchen, not wanting to wake up either Spike or Starlight, and soon had a set of pancakes griddling nicely. Once they were done, she half-drowned them in syrup, cracked open her new book, and settled down for a quiet, blissful breakfast.

And then, Starlight. “Hey, um, Twilight? I’ve… kinda got a dream pony in my room.”

Twilight groaned and planted her face in her book. “Dangit, Starlight, could you at least wait until I’m done with breakfast before breaking time and space again?”

“Sorry.” A pause. “I’ll, um… be upstairs. Just waiting.” Starlight took a step back. “For you.” Another. “To come.” And another. “And help.” Still another. “Bye.” And she was gone.

Twilight sighed. For all she knew, her entire day was shot. Starlight was an attentive student, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be stupid, stupid, stupid. Twilight squinted at her fork. “At least you will never betray me, pancakes,” she said forlornly.

Starlight was pacing back and forth in front of her room when Twilight arrived. Twilight didn’t say anything, just gave Starlight a flat Look. Starlight opened her mouth, paused, and said, “It’s… better if you see.” She pushed open her door.

Sitting in the middle of Starlight’s room, stiff as a board, smiling like its life depended on it, was Moondog. “Hey, cousin-in-law,” it said, sounding like it was sitting on a bed of rusty nails. “I need some help. Also, I told you so.”

Twilight blinked. Twice. She quickly closed the door to keep the sound from waking up Spike. She turned to Starlight and half-whispered, half-shrieked, “How?”

“If I knew that, I could reverse it, and we wouldn’t be talking!”

“She used the wrong dream spell at the wrong time,” said Moondog, still smiling. “I think she got a few variables mixed up somewhere and did something when she wanted to do something else.”

Okay. Dream pony in the real world. What to do about it? Twilight started pacing in spite of the cramped space. “We need to get Luna, tell her-”

“NO!” yelled Starlight. “Not now, at least,” she added when she saw Twilight’s and Moondog’s faces. “She’ll be tired after, you know, the whole cutie mark thing and I- don’t wanna… have her know about this.” She fired a glare at Moondog, who rolled its eyes.

Twilight decided to not press the issue for the moment. “Okay, um…” Now what? To start, they needed a more open space than this. She pointed at Moondog. “Why don’t you go to the library?”

“I don’t want to move,” said Moondog. Its smile was growing more strained than Rainbow Dash’s excuses for procrastination. “If I move, I might break something. And out here, stuff stays broken.”

“We can fix it,” said Twilight. “This is the real world, things don’t just randomly explode if you look at them funny.”

“Except for those puddings,” said Starlight.

“Yeah, but that was just twice!” To Moondog, Twilight said, “Seriously. Things aren’t that easy to break out here. Just be a little careful and you’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” said Moondog nervously. It slowly got to its feet, delicately poked the floor, and made its way to the door.

Twilight turned back to Starlight. “Did that spell come from-”

“Um, could one of you unlock the door?”

Twilight and Starlight turned. Moondog was standing at the door, looking annoyed. “The door isn’t locked,” said Twilight. “I closed it myself and didn’t lock it.”

“Then why can’t I open it?” Moondog grabbed the knob and twisted. Nothing happened.

“I don’t know, but the door’s not locked,” said Starlight, “and even if it was, it’s the kind that-”

“Oh, never mind.” Moondog collapsed into a flat plane and slid between the door and the frame.

Twilight shrugged. “You’ve still got the book, right?” she asked Starlight. “I could use a refresher on anything more complicated than sending messages.”

“Yeah.” Starlight levitated the book from the table and leafed through the pages. “The spell I was trying to cast was… this one, right here.”

“Huh.” Twilight took the book from Starlight and examined the spell closely. After a moment, she turned the book sideways. It only made a little more sense. “How…?”

“It makes more sense in dreams,” said Starlight. “Trust me. But I might’ve done something wrong when casting it, so…” She sucked in a breath through her nose. “Yyyyyeah.”

“Uh-huh…” Based on the design of the spell, getting drunk might also make it make sense, too. Might. And when you factored in Starlight’s possible screwup, Twilight didn’t know where to start with it.

She didn’t know.

Which meant she could learn!

Twilight snapped the book shut. “So let me get this straight,” she said to herself. “We need to reconstruct a spell practically from scratch in an esoteric branch of magic that shouldn’t even work on this plane of reality and then figure out how to perform it in reverse.” Her face split into a grin and she hugged Starlight tightly. “This is tied for the sixth-greatest day of my life!”

“How nice,” wheezed Starlight. “Please stop crushing my lungs.”

Twilight’s mind was buzzing with ideas as she trotted down the stairs. “…might turn out to be a little easier than we think,” she said to Starlight, “because with two casters instead of one, we can each handle different parts of the spell.”

“Yep,” Starlight said in a voice that could’ve been used as a tuning fork for inattention.

“But that doesn’t take into account the way physics works in dreams — or, more accurately, doesn’t work,” Twilight continued. “So we’ll kind of need to play it by ear in spell construction, but since dream magic is so mentally-based to begin with, it might not need to be as structured as thaumic magic as long as we have a clear idea of what we want it to do, of course.” She giggled and wiggled from the tips of her ears to the end of her tail. “Different magic in different realities!” she chirped. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before! It’s such a neglected field of study! I wonder if that’s why Discord’s magic works the way it does… So how does thaumic magic work in his world? I’ll need to pay him a visit, but if he figures out what I’m doing, he’ll kick me straight out…”

“Absolutely.”

“Later, though. Later.” Twilight’s voice sounded like an alcoholic denying herself beer. “Now is dream magic in the physical world and nothing else.”

Moondog was sitting at a table in the library, staring at a candlestick and poking it. The candlestick didn’t wobble. “I, um, I can’t move things,” Moondog said. “Like, at all.” It slammed its shoulder into the table. Nothing happened.

“Wait, really?” asked Twilight.

“Yeah! Look!” Moondog jumped up to a chandelier and grabbed on. The chandelier didn’t tilt with any added weight, didn’t wobble, didn’t twitch even as Moondog thrashed about to try to pull it one way or the other. “See?” Moondog dropped from the chandelier and landed next to Twilight. Now that she was paying attention, Twilight noticed that she didn’t feel any wind from its wings. “And my magic doesn’t work, either,” it said. “It’s like I can’t touch anything.”

Twilight stroked her chin. “Hmm. I guess dream objects being unable to affect the real world makes sense…” She held out a leg. “Touch me.”

Moondog hesitantly jabbed Twilight’s leg. She didn’t feel a thing; if she’d closed her eyes, Moondog might as well have not done anything. In fact, she didn’t feel anything when Moondog climbed onto her leg entirely for a few moments. Twilight examined her leg closely, but it didn’t look any different. “Hmm,” she repeated. “This might complicate things.”

“Might?” said Moondog.

“But we won’t know until we try,” Twilight said. She laid the spellbook on a table. “Do you think you could help us with the dream spells? They don’t make a lot of sense to physical ponies.”

“Sure,” said Moondog. “What’re you having trouble with?”

“It’s not that hard,” Moondog said. “You just need to use actual happiness directly, not mana drawn from happiness.”

“That makes no sense,” Twilight said again as she rereread the spell instructions. “Emotions are-”

“Whoof.” Moondog rubbed its temples. “It’s how it works. Dreams are shaped by emotions, so if you direct the emotion instead of letting it- Starlight, can you help me out?”

“Moondog’s right,” said Starlight. “It’s really hard to wrap your head around, but, yes, for this spell, you use happiness itself.” Already having cast a dream spell had given her some perspective on Twilight’s difficulties, and she was annoyed that she couldn’t give it any better description.

“How are you even having trouble with this?” asked Moondog. “You cast that messenger spell with no problem!”

“I actually had all sorts of problems,” Twilight said, “— remember all those messages in the PS? — and that was the only spell I could understand. There’s a difference between sending a message and sculpting a landscape.”

“Eh… You know, I bet if you asked, Mom would-”

“Nonono,” Starlight said, shaking her head. “No. She- We shouldn’t make her worry, right?” And if Moondog had an answer to that, Starlight had a whole list of excuses lined up and ready to go.

But all Moondog did was snort. “Fine. Don’t go to the easy, obvious choice. Noooooope.”

Twilight didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s try this again.” She closed the book and massaged her temples. The deep breaths she took made her look like some kind of psychic guru. “Okay, Twilight,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this. Use happiness. Happiness. You can do this.” She turned to Moondog. “Let’s try this again.”

Twilight paced back and forth, continuing to chew on the pulp that had once been a bite of her lunch, lost in thought. She finally swallowed. “No progress on being able to cast dream magic,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe we should try thaumic magic.”

“Frickin’ sandwiches, how do they work?” Moondog was staring at Twilight’s sandwich like the latter was going to bite it on the nose. “I mean, you swallow one and somehow it gives you energy.” It looked up at Twilight. “And I asked Mom, and she just said, ‘digestion’, which explains, like, nothing.”

“It’s complicated,” said Twilight. “And I’m not completely sure myself, to be honest.”

“You?” asked Starlight. “Don’t know something? The apocalypse is upon us.” She dug into her own sandwich.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should duck into a doctor’s head sometime,” she said to Moondog.

“Maybe I will,” Moondog said thoughtfully.

“So how do you get energy? You’re not some… perpetual-motion… pony, are you?”

Moondog was suddenly even more interested in the sandwich than before. If it’d been able to, Twilight suspected it’d be sweating. “Well, uh…”

“Great,” muttered Starlight. “Another thing to make me feel bad. Right?”

“See, here’s the thing. I’m…” Moondog swallowed. “…kinda a being of dream magic, so I use dream magic from the collective unconscious to sustain myself, but there’s no dream magic out here, so-”

“You’re dying?” screamed Twilight.

“Called it!” said Starlight, and she slammed her face on the table, groaning.

“Not super fast or anything!” said Moondog, flaring its wings. “I think I’ve got about a year before my reserves run out, but I didn’t want to say anything ’cause I knew you’d freak out-”

“I am not freaking out!” Twilight scrambled back to the dream book. “This is bad! We can’t just sit around! We’ve got work to-”

“Twilight!” Moondog raced back to her and tried to pull her away, to no avail. “Don’t worry about it! We’ve got time!”

Twilight put a hoof on her chest and took a few long, deep breaths. “Sorry. I just- I don’t like the feeling that your magic is eating itself as we speak, even if it’s slow.” A few more deep breaths. “So, um, since I still don’t have dream magic down, I was thinking we should try thaumic magic instead. There’s got to be something in there that can help you. What do you think?”

“Sure,” said Starlight in a melancholic voice.

Moondog shrugged. “I guess. It can’t be any worse than this, right?”

“You know who misses me?” Moondog muttered. “Third-shifters.” It pawed at the X it was sitting on.

“Hold still,” Twilight said. “Ready, Starlight?”

“Ready.” Both ponies’ horns began crackling.

“Mom can’t get them. She’s asleep-asleep. So there’s just me.”

“One…”

“And there are plenty of them, too. I keep busy during the day.”

“Two…”

“But now, because of some stupid spell, I’m stuck out here, and-”

“Three!”

The magic hit Moondog square on the chest. The stench of ozone filled the air and Moondog was shoved back over a dozen feet, tumbling tail over teakettle. For a few seconds, space seemed to crystallize where Moondog had been, but the moment passed without anything happening.

“Okay,” said Twilight. She was frowning deeply. “That… Hmm. That one almost worked. But we’re running out of interdimensional transport spells.” She made another check mark on her list.

“-and I can’t even move anything,” Moondog said, lying on the ground. “Just… fudgebuckets.” It waggled a hoof in Starlight’s direction. “This is all your fault. Alllllllll your fault.”

“Yep,” said Starlight.

“Come on, Moondog,” Twilight said. She ran her eyes over the spells that remained. “Do you need to bring that up again? It was an honest mistake.”

“I’ve been blasted across the room a dozen times in the past half-hour,” Moondog said as it got to its hooves, “and it’s not as fun when you girls’ only response is, ‘Why didn’t that work?’. Forgive me for being a bit testy.” It flexed its wings. “But if we got Mom-”

Starlight’s response bordered on reflexive. “We can’t, not yet,” she said. “I, I don’t want Luna to think any worse of me because I made another stupid mistake after the whole cutie mark fiasco.”

Moondog buried its face in its hooves. “Pride is so so so stupid,” it mumbled.

Silence reigned for a long moment before Twilight cleared her throat. “I’ve, uh, got the next spell lined up…”

It was early evening when Twilight gave in and said, “We need to write to Luna.”

“Finally,” groaned Moondog. It had taken to pacing around the room in frustration, as in sideways on the walls themselves. It jumped down and landed on the floor without a sound. “And it only took-”

“NO!” yelled Starlight. The papers around her scattered. “Not yet! There’s still-”

“Starlight, I feel like I’m trying to learn a crash course on blindfolded upside-down juggling on unicycles in a few hours for a performance,” said Twilight. “As much I want it to be otherwise, learning a new branch of magic isn’t something you can do quickly, and Luna’s still going to know something’s up when Moondog isn’t in the dream realm in a few hours.”

“Yeah, see,” said Moondog, “I have a job to do, and-”

“-you still decided to play hooky for revenge on me,” said Starlight wearily. She’d been working too long and felt too guilty to be angry.

“Well…”

“I’m gonna go get Spike,” said Twilight. “Be back in a bit. Please don’t kill each other.” Taking a pen and paper with her, she trotted out of the library.

Starlight looked at Moondog. Moondog looked at Starlight. Starlight looked away. “Sorry,” she said.

“I’m not even supposed to be able to exist out here,” said Moondog. “Just, you know, FYI.”

“How do you, um, feel?” asked Starlight, forcing herself to look at Moondog again. It was lying stretched out on a carpet. “Physicality’s gotta be weird to a dream… person.”

“Well, it’s not that bad,” said Moondog casually, waving a hoof in a circle. A pause. “Except that I’m on fire. With weights around my hooves. And my wings bound. And the weights and bindings are also on fire. Submerged in acid. With the consistency of tar.”

“Oh. I’m… sor-”

“And the acidic tar is ALSO also on fire.”

“…I’m-”

“There’s a lot of fire, is what I’m saying.”

“…-”

Moondog burst into flames. “Fire!”

Twilight chose that moment to return. “Okay, I wrote and sent the letter, so now the only thing to do is how did Moondog get lit on fire?”

The fire vanished without any smoke. “Shapeshifting with what little magic I have. Only thing I can do.”

“Ah. Well, I’m not sure when Luna will be here. I don’t even know if she’s awake. It could be a few minutes, could be an hour, could be-”

A pop, and Luna indelicately pushed open the door to the library. Her gaze swept over the room like a scanning spell. “What, precisely, happened?” she asked.

“STARLIGHT DID IT!” yelled Moondog, jumping in front of Luna.

The second she saw Moondog, Luna bit herself on the wing and flinched. “Well. That removes the… more preferable option, unfortunately. I had hoped…” She walked around Moondog, examining it from all angles. “How did-”

“Starlight. Did it.”

“She did,” confirmed Twilight.

“I really did,” Starlight said quickly. Deep breath. “So after the dream I had while you had Celestia’s cutie mark and vice versa, I… decided to teach myself some dream magic to protect myself. When I fell asleep, Moondog came into my dream and tried to get back at me for what I did to you, and then-”

Luna turned on Moondog, who was trying to hold its head high and look small at the same time, and somehow succeeding. “I thought I told you,” Luna said quietly, “to not worry about me.” Her voice had the solid, unyielding strength of a brick wall.

“And I didn’t!” said Moondog. “I skipped over improving your dreams two nights ago and went straight to other ponies’, just like you asked!”

“Yet you felt the need to enact some sort of retribution for me?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Starlight said quickly. “Just a-”

Luna didn’t even look in Starlight’s direction. “Pray tell, what could you do to her that I could not?”

“It’s just-!” Moondog jerkily gestured around. “She-! And you-!” It folded its front legs and looked away, ears back.

“It is no matter,” Luna said in the voice of a disappointed parent. “What’s done is done.” She turned back to Starlight. “Apologies. Continue.”

Starlight swallowed. “So she- it- Moondog was in my dream, and I cast a spell that was supposed to get rid of nightmares — whichIreallyshouldn’thavedoneI’msosorry — and…” She pointed at Moondog and smiled weakly. “Ta-daaaaaaa…”

“Noisemakers, confetti, mirthful frolicking,” Moondog said flatly. It reclined on the air and decided the ceiling needed to feel the wrath of its gaze. “So what’re you gonna do, Mom?”

“We’ve been trying different thaumic spells,” Twilight said, “but they haven’t been affecting Moondog at all for some reason.”

Luna’s face was stony. She pawed at the ground. She rustled her wings. She took a deep breath. “There is nothing I can do. Spells in the physical world cannot affect Moondog in any way whatsoever, at least not on any scale we can manage.”

“Well,” said Moondog, sounding unsurprised, “ain’t. That. Just. A load. Of giggles.” Starlight wanted to scream. She’d just wanted to not have nightmares. Why did that have to somehow result in ripping somebody from their home dimension?

“There is a reason, I promise.” Luna began pacing around the room. “You… may recall that the first Tantabus’s rather hazy directive drove it to attempt to leave the dream realm and turn Equestria into a waking nightmare.”

“Is that even possible?” Starlight asked. “Shouldn’t dream magic not work outside dreams?” (Twilight suddenly had a pen and paper and was looking at Luna like she was about to reveal the secrets of the universe.)

“Thaumic magic is different from dream magic is different from chaos magic, and they all have their own separate points of origin,” said Luna, “but they are all still magic. Dream magic may not be as adept at manipulating the physical world as chaos or thaumic magic, but sufficient dream magic could still do so, and without any limitations of the other two.” She levitated up a pencil and twirled it around in the air. “I could do this relying solely on dream magic, but it would take more effort than lifting this entire castle with thaumic magic.”

Starlight looked over. If Moondog was listening or grasped the implications, it certainly didn’t look it; it was still stretched out above the table, still staring at the ceiling.

“To avoid a similar situation with what would become Moondog,” Luna continued, “I did my best to sever the connection between it and the physical realm. It could not enter the physical realm from the dream one, and even if that should occur, it would be unable to interact with physical objects in any way, directly or magically.” Her voice turned dry as she said, “At least that much seems to have worked.”

“So why didn’t you change it when Moondog didn’t go crazy?” asked Starlight. “It’s still a person, it shouldn’t have been trapped in dreams like it was! Not removing those limits was just… wrong.”

Luna opened her mouth, then slowly closed it and looked at a point just to one side of Starlight. She tilted her head. “Hmm.”

“Is… is that a good ‘hmm’?”

“Moondog appears to be attempting to strangle you whilst eating your ear off.”

“What?” Starlight looked at her reflection in the polished surface of a table. Moondog had wrapped all four legs around her neck and was biting on one of her ears. She didn’t feel a thing. She brushed at where Moondog was supposed to be. Although she only felt empty air, Moondog was dislodged and went sprawling across the table.

Moondog was on its hooves in seconds, talking before Starlight could open her mouth. “She just forgot about it,” it said defensively. “She’s a pony and she forgets things and that’s fine. It’s not a problem. I didn’t want to come out here, anyway, so it shouldn’t have even mattered! But you-”

“Moondog, please cease the blame throwing and attempted equivorism,” said Luna sternly. “I have no desire to invent new spells to ground you.”

“I could do it!” Twilight said. “I’ve been rereading that book again and I can’t believe I didn’t recognize how fascinating dream magic is before. It works totally unlike the other forms of magic, and since so few ponies practice it, I’d be treading new ground just about everywhere I-”

“And with Moondog unable to interact with the physical world,” Luna said over Twilight’s babbling, “that includes most forms of magic. No spell you can cast can affect it.”

“So… we can’t get Moondog back into the dream realm because we can’t do magic on it,” Starlight said slowly, “but we can’t do magic on it because it’s not in the dream realm.” A catch-22 if ever there was one.

Moondog sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go curl up in a corner and wait to die,” it said.

“I mind quite a bit,” said Luna. “And saying we cannot use magic on you is… not entirely accurate. We cannot use thaumic magic on yo-”

“No no no,” Moondog said immediately. “I know what you’re thinking. Nope. Nope!”

“Nobody else can break barriers such as this so thoroughly.”

“Then there’s only one dignified way out.” A thin, curved sword materialized in Moondog’s hooves, looking like a bad illusion. “Hayra-kirin!” it bellowed, and promptly ran itself through. It flopped limply to the ground.

“You ought not to have antagonized him in the first place,” said Luna.

“Oh, shut up,” said Moondog. “I’m trying to die over here.”

Luna sighed and her horn began glowing. “Discord,” she said to Twilight and Starlight. “It might be possible for him to… affect Moondog where we cannot. Provided he answers the call, naturally.” Her horn winked and flashed, and a blue spark zipped out a window.

“So did something happen between the two of them?” Twilight asked. “It sounds like-”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve!” Moondog said. “And is dying supposed to take this long?”

“Discord is still prone to lord his power over ponies,” said Luna to Starlight and Twilight, “if far more harmlessly than he once did. Moondog felt the need to give him a taste of his own medicine, if only once. They are not on the greatest of terms.” She nudged Moondog. “Please get up. A sword, dream-created or otherwise, does not harm you any more than decapitation.”

“Fine. But I can dream, can’t I?” But Moondog stood up and the sword vanished from its body.

Discord popped into existence above the group in a cloud of sparks. “I’m not so sure,” he said, picking up Moondog by its mane and holding it in front of his face. “You certainly exist in dreams, but that’s different from actually dreaming, isn’t it? I’m not even sure sleep is possible for you.”

“You’re gonna get split ends from all the hairs you’re splitting,” Moondog said, doing its best to not look at Discord.

“I know! How wonderful!” Discord tossed Moondog away. It flared its wings and hovered, glowering at him.

“Greetings, Discord,” Luna said. “I am grateful you could spare the time.”

“Oh, don’t you worry your little horn,” Discord said. He lowered himself to the ground. “It was only a lazy weekend with nothing to do, which is just one step away from the most banal form of order. Really, you’re doing me a favor. Anyway, greetings, Princess Luna, Princess Twilight, Not-Princess Starlight — you really should get working on that, you know — and Certainly-Not-Princess The Other One. Such an uncoarse evening this is, wouldn’t you say?”

Moondog snorted. “You think you’re funny, do you?” it mumbled.

“Well, one of us has to be.” Discord pulled out a megaphone and held it so that his mouth was at the large end, with Luna’s ear at the small end. “Is this about your little accident?” he yelled into the reversed megaphone, although it came out as a whisper. “Please don’t tell me it’s about Accident. That would be so predictable.”

“It is not about Accident,” said Luna, pushing the megaphone away. “It is about Moondog.”

“Close enough.” Discord tossed the megaphone over his shoulder. It knocked over a philodendron and a cat yowled, even though the library contained neither philodendrons nor cats. “So what is this about? Has Accident been a naughtly little tulpa in coming to the real world and you need my help with discipline? I’ve got quite the list of ideas.” Discord smiled and revved his chainsaw.

“No,” Luna said exasperatedly. “Moondog is not in need of discipline. We simply-”

“I could tolerate you if you were less boring, you know,” Discord said to Moondog. “Rebel a little! Lose some marbles, if only the shooters! Don’t play with a full deck, even if you choose to play solitaire! All that limitless power of the dreamscape, and you use it to do exactly what Luna says and nothing else? Ulgh.” He stretched a spoon across his mouth and tied the two ends behind his head.

“It’s called,” snapped Moondog, “a work. Ethic. And just because you don’t have one doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“How uncreative.”

“Moondog actually came out here by accident,” Twilight said, “and we were hoping you could help get it back into dreams.”

“Ah. A glorified taxi driver.” Discord snapped his fingers, conjuring a valet outfit for himself. “Yes, of course,” he said in a godawful Prench accent, “I’d be delighted to utilize my omnipotence to move somebody from point A-” An upside-down teardrop with an “A” appeared above Moondog’s head. Moondog stepped to one side; the teardrop followed. “-to point B.” Starlight yelped as a tear-shaped balloon inflated from her ear. She quickly ripped it out, and didn’t need to look at it to know it had a “B” on it.

Discord’s outfit vanished. “And let’s say that isn’t the case. I don’t see why I should help that one in the slightest after what it did to me.”

“Not really,” Moondog piped up. “He’s just jealous at how thoroughly I can trounce him in his dreams.” It smirked a little. “Having the power to warp reality doesn’t do much good if there isn’t any reality to warp.”

“Just like being able to sculpt dreams doesn’t do much good if there aren’t any dreams to sculpt,” said Discord.

“Yeah, but unlike you, I don’t get all hissy about it.” (Starlight suddenly had to cover up a coughing fit and Twilight became very interested in her notes.)

“Discord, please,” said Luna. “If not for Moondog’s sake, then for mine. I care deeply for it, and I have helped you in the past. You can help me now.”

Discord’s expression softened — just the tiniest, most miniscule bit, but it was there — and he nodded. “You have,” he said thoughtfully. He looked at Moondog again and sighed. “Very well. And you, young tulpa, owe your mother a big, fat ‘thank you’.” He cracked his knuckles, then fixed them with super glue. He pulled a welding torch from his ear (Moondog’s eyes widened) and flipped down a protective mask. “Now, this is going to take a bit of work, so hold still.”

But Moondog galloped across the room and ducked behind Luna. “Nope! Not with that! You’re gonna just burn my head out as revenge! Nope! Not falling for that!”

“Discord…” Twilight said sternly.

“Believe me, harming Accident right now is the last thing on my mind,” Discord said as he twiddled with a dial. A gout of arcane fire leapt from the torch’s nozzle, curling around itself and glowing black and infrared. “I’ve had my fair share of betrayals of trust, thank you, and they are the least entertaining form of chaos. And death is so boring, besides. Accident will be perfectly safe.”

Luna nudged Moondog forward, and it reluctantly stood in front of Discord. “Just make it quick,” it mumbled.

“I’ll do my least worst.” Discord pulled Moondog’s mane off, exposing a mass of nebulaic wires, and began carefully sifting through them.

“Ooo!” Twilight was hovering above Moondog and Discord in a moment for a better look. “I’ve never seen arcanic structures like that before! Although that one- Yeah, that’s definitely related to golemancy… That… Is that psychometry? Its dream version, anyway. And, oh, that one’s gotta be a capacitance amplifier… Oh, wow…”

Starlight couldn’t help herself; she peeked into Moondog’s head. The things she saw were like physical sculptures of spells’ forms. Which, in itself, should’ve been impossible, given the malleability of spells, but there you go. She found herself standing opposite Discord, almost pushing Moondog’s head down to look closer. She didn’t know what half of them did, but those spells were things of beauty, and for once, she fully understood Twilight’s love of studying magic for the sake of studying magic.

“Now, first we…” Discord shoved the torch into Moondog’s head. Moondog twitched, but nothing more.

Starlight didn’t want to admit it, but the way Discord manipulated the magic almost made her envious. He had oodles of power, certainly, but this was the first time she’d realized just how much skill chaos magic took. Although she’d expected him to go about his task like a jackhammer in a china shop, he preserved most of the spells with almost contemptuous ease, only changing a few and always interlacing them in ways that made Starlight’s head spin (not literally, thankfully).

“I take back everything I’ve said about you, Luna,” said Discord. He closed Moondog’s head up and popped a wing off. “This is a very clever design indeed.”

“What have you ever said about me?” demanded Luna.

“Stop squirming, Accident,” said Discord, working his torch into Moondog’s torso. Twilight followed, taking notes like it was her last night on Equus.

“I’m not!” said Moondog. Indeed, it was so still that only its color made it any different from a statue. At least until it coughed and a few kaleidoscoping sparks shot out of its mouth. “Well, okay, I am, but it’s hard to stay still. You keep poking at areas that are really sensitive. Can’t you do this a bit less painfully?”

“Maybe.” Dzzt. “Then again, maybe not.”

“MOOoooOOM!”

“Discord!” Luna yelled. She stomped with enough force to make the room shake. “While I am grateful for your assistance, if you persist in harming my daughter-”

“I’m reworking Accident’s connection to reality itself on the wrong plane of existence while it critiques my technique,” Discord said testily without looking up. “Did you really think that could be done painlessly?”

“Perhaps.” Luna’s voice was tight.

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t,” Twilight said vaguely. Scribble scribble. “You’re working with Moondog’s quiddity, not what passes for its pain receptors…”

“I swear,” Discord muttered, “you make one reality surgery without anesthetic, and suddenly you’re responsible for your patient’s well-being.”

Moondog yelped and pulled away from Discord, massaging its head. “Come on, that was deliberate.”

“Yes, it was. Good for you!”

“Well, quit it!” yelled Moondog. “Or I’ll tell everypony about the Hearth’s Warming party you had with Blueblood and Hoity Toity!”

Discord gasped and his torch went out. “You wou- Wait a minute. Which one?”

“The one with the opera!”

“…Which one?”

“At the playplace in Quesadilla Shack!”

Discord screamed. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me!”

“Well,” huffed Discord, “so it’s blackmail, is it? How scummy and underhoofed.” Then he smiled. “There might just be hope for you yet.” He turned the torch back on and turned the Pain dial from HOT DANG! to Minimal. “Now, if you’d be so kind…”

Once Moondog was convinced to let Discord continue operating, it all went smoothly. Twilight’s horn glowed all the while, scanning whatever magic Discord was using, as she scribbled down page after page of notes. Luna sat on the floor and watched Discord like a hawk. Starlight paced back and forth, doing her best to avoid thinking about Moondog.

Finally, Discord screwed Moondog’s ear back on and tucked the torch away offpage. “There. All done. How do you feel?”

“Eh…” Moondog flexed its wings. “Not great. But better.” It took a few steps. “What did you do?”

“In laymare’s terms, installed a vitiater.” (“I knew it!” crowed Twilight.) “Any dream magic you use gets converted to chaos magic, and, before you ask, yes, equivalent chaos magic. Sadly.” Discord made a face. “It won’t last forever, but it’s enough to get you back into the dream realm and out of my hair. Just promise me you’ll rebel every now and then.”

“Wait…” Moondog looked at its hooves. “You mean…” It reached up and peeled a bookshelf from the wall like wallpaper. Twilight’s wings tensed up and her breathing became labored.

“Now keep in mind,” Discord said, grinning broadly, “that’s about the most you can warp reality out here. Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do-”

“Don’t care!” Moondog slapped the bookshelf back up on the wall and Twilight let out a long breath. “I just wanna do stuff with… stuff!” It grabbed a book and fanned through it. “I can move things!”

“Oh, and since you’re the only source of dream magic out here,” continued Discord, “you’re basically consuming your own life force by continuing to exist and use magic.”

Moondog just shrugged and reshelved the book. “Hey, I’ve known that since hour one.”

Luna inclined her head at Discord. “Thank you for your assistance, Discord. Moondog, you may have a great deal of freedom, now, but as in the dream realm, you must use this power with restr-”

“Traintotheface!” screamed Moondog, and slammed a train car on top of Discord.

“-aint.” Luna sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Must you?”

“But Moooooom, he-”

“That is irrelevant! You shall not hit people with trains!”

Moondog flicked its tail and rustled its wings. “Fine. But he’s Discord. He can take it.”

Discord pushed open the door to the carriage, looking none the worse for wear, and adjusted a polka-dot tie as the carriage dissolved into butterflies. “Well, that was rude,” he said with a scowl.

“See?”

“That’s some passable rebellion,” Discord said, “but I was hoping for-”

Starlight had had enough. “Hey!” she interrupted. “Will you two kiss already?”

“ANYWAY!” yelled Discord. He shoved a massive scroll at Moondog. “Here’sinstructionsforhowtomakeaportaltothedreamrealmIhopeyouhaveawonderfulinterdimensionaljaunt!”

“ThankyouverymuchIthinkIwillandyoushouldprobablygetgoing!” yelled Moondog, burying its face behind the scroll.

“Ithinksotoofarewelltata!” And Discord was gone.

Moondog didn’t salute so much as blur one of its legs near its forehead and then vanish, reappearing in a distant corner of the library, reading the scroll at ludicrous speeds. Luna and Twilight both stared at Starlight.

“It was the first thing I thought of,” Starlight said, shrugging. “If two people hate each other very much, you can-”

“SoIneedadreamtojumpintodreamssoI’mgonnalookforsomeponytakinganapbye,” said Moondog, blitzing into existence between them and blitzing out again.

“-like magnets,” Starlight said, making pushing motions with her hooves. She blinked. “Did you say something?”

Luna glanced at the empty corner. “I think Moondog has been sufficiently motivated. I shall check in with it tonight and let you know tomorrow if anything more needs to be done.” She glared at Starlight. “Do not practice dream magic unsupervised again,” she said. She said it like the ruler of one nation warning another to stay out of her territory.

Starlight folded her ears down and backed up. “Heh heh… Not likely…”

It was likely.

In Starlight’s dream, the Castle of Friendship was dark and hazy. Echoes of Moondog’s pained voice slipped in and out of hearing, and whenever Starlight turned her head, she saw shadows crumble to dust. Her mind wasn’t exactly subtle.

She wandered up and down the castle’s endless hallways, searching for a way out, but wherever she looked, she was confronted with more images of Moondog potentially dying. After what felt like hours, she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to end this nightmare. She jammed her eyes shut, began shaping her magic for happy thoughts-

“Bring a little more calmness forward. You won’t overshoot your target that way.”

Starlight’s eyes snapped open. Moondog was standing in front of her, leaning on air, looking slightly concerned. “No, I had nothing to do with this,” it said. “No, I’m not tormenting you. Yes, I really am helping you with your dream magic. You’re focusing so much on ‘happy’ that you’ll scream past it and go straight into manic. Trust me.”

Starlight frowned, but, not wanting to be too cynical, closed her eyes again anyway. Calm thoughts. Calm. Now, she just needed to-

“And don’t force it. Let the spell slide in and it’ll be much more natural.”

…What the heck, okay. Starlight let her thoughts linger on calmness and lightly pushed the magic out into the world.

Beneath her hooves, the crystalline floor shifted, distorted, sprouted grass. A cool breeze grabbed lightly at her mane. The echoes vanished and were replaced with that big silence that can only come from wide-open spaces. When Starlight opened her eyes, she and Moondog were standing beneath a cloudy sky in a nondescript, flowered meadow outside a town that looked a lot like, but wasn’t quite, Ponyville.

She couldn’t help but smile a little. She’d done it.

Moondog nodded as it surveyed the field. “Not bad,” it said. “Maybe a little too calm, not enough pep to overcome the depression.” It plucked the clouds from the sky and stuffed them under the grass. “But better than I’d expect.”

Starlight swallowed, her spell-mastery high quickly bubbling away. “Um. Hey.” She still didn’t know how to react. She’d made a huge mistake, but it’d been fixed, but, but, but… At least Moondog had helped her. That had to count for something, right?

“Yo,” Moondog replied. “I wanted to apologize. And before you ask, no, I’m not here because Mom told me to come and apologize. I mean, she did, but I’d be here anyway if she hadn’t.” It rubbed the back of its neck. “I was… a total jerk today. A real -------. A whiner. And that’s before you get to the whole revenge thing.” It snorted. “I mean, no duh she didn’t need my help,” it muttered. “She’s more powerful than me.”

“I should apologize, too,” Starlight said quickly. “I-”

“No, you don’t,” Moondog said equally quickly. “It was-”

“But because of me, you-”

“No, no, listen,” said Moondog. “You have nothing to apologize about. At least not to me. I mean, if you’d known I was gonna get chucked into the physical world, you wouldn’t have cast that spell, right?”

“No!” Starlight said. “Of course not!”

“And then there’s me, who… yeah. I just get really protective about Mom, ’cause she’s the one who made me and all.” Moondog took a deep breath. “Anyway, I got back in here just fine, so let’s just forget about this, alright?” It grinned nervously. Starlight wondered just how often she’d made that exact same grin yesterday. “Sorry.”

“Then you’re forgiven,” Starlight said. “But I really should apologize, I can get… reflexive with magic. Sorry.”

“That’s one way to put it. You’re forgiven, too.” Moondog swept a leg out and bowed.

“What’re you going to do about being able to exist in the real world?” Starlight asked. “Planning on visiting anytime soon?”

“Simply existing out there eats away at my life force,” Moondog said flatly. “What do you think?”

“…I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’.” Starlight paused, then smiled. “So have you kissed Discord yet?”

Starlight didn’t remember what happened after that, but she woke up feeling like she’d been run over by a cruise ship. Worth it.

Class Conversion

Although time was a funky thing in dreams, Moondog had a solid understanding of what it meant in the real world. Among that understanding was that “a thousand years” was what historians termed “a freaking long time”. Mom herself could attest to that. The landscape itself could change in a thousand years, even if untouched by pony hooves. When you got into culture… whoof. Equestria would be nearly unrecognizable after a thousand years. You could stick a millennium-displaced pony in a cloud and call it lightning from the culture shock they’d experience.

As such, after Twilight and her friends had yanked the Pillars out of Limbo and smashed down the latest Villain of the Week, Mom had asked Moondog to aid her in keeping an eye on the Pillars’ dreams to help them acclimate to modern-day Equestria. Culture shock would be immense, she’d said, almost certainly the number one issue on their minds. It could manifest in many ways, but would usually tie back to an anxiety of not fitting in.

So when Stygian was having nightmares that weren’t in the slightest about culture shock or not fitting in, Moondog knew that Something was Up.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=5374796769616e&lucid=n");

When Moondog popped into Stygian’s dream, it was a swirling miasma of black fog, so dense no light could penetrate it. What was it with evilness, bad feelings, and black? Black was a perfectly nice color, undemanding and soft in the right circumstances, if a little plain.

Not to underplay Stygian’s despair, of course. He was in so much torment that Moondog could feel a nocnica lurking somewhere in there, feeding without remotely needing to make the nightmare any worse. Definitely bad. Definitely in need of fixing. The nocnica might complicate things a little, but it wasn’t strong enough to be much of a trouble. Hopefully.

A deep voice rolled through the black, the boulder before an avalanche. “I see you have returned, insect,” it rumbled. “Have your so-called ‘friends’ abandoned you so soon?”

Stygian’s voice was shaking badly. “T-they were making themselves look good f-for the Princesses.” A cold blue light pulsed through the darkness, coalescing around a unicorn’s horn before illuminating a unicorn in a small part of a large temple. For somepony who’d almost doomed Equestria, Stygian was kinda skinny. “A-all of them. Even Twilight.” His mane was a mess and he looked like he’d been beaten down a dozen times in the past hour. “It w-would have been b-better to remain with you.”

“Indeed.” The voice thundered from a carving of the Pony of Shadows on the wall. “And in spite of your betrayal, here I remain, still waiting for you.”

“Y-yes.” Stygian put his horn to the carving and space rippled.

Mom had told Moondog to get her in case of culture shock nightmares. Moondog had supported that wholeheartedly — how the heck were you supposed to deal with nightmares like that? — but this was hardly culture shock. This was plain old paranoia, with a little bit of self-loathing bubbling beneath the surface. And that, Moondog figured it had a handle on. It needed a bit more hooves-on approach than the usual dream, but that was fine.

setLightLevel(85);dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

The temple suddenly brightened with sourceless light. “Well, it’s not like he could go anywhere else,” Moondog said as it stepped out of the shadows. “I mean, where is there in Limbo?”

“Wait.” Stygian stepped back. “Limbo doesn’t work like this. I couldn’t breach it alone. And Twilight never- Oh. This dream again.”

“And also me,” added Moondog.

Stygian twitched and turned around. Moondog smiled and waved at him. “I’ve never been aware of dreams before,” Stygian said tentatively, “so I assume you have something to do with that. Who are you?”

Moondog spread its wings as its coat darkened. “I’m your worst nightmare,” it rumbled. “Except during the day, when you’re not asleep. And when Mom’s looking over my shoulder. And when being your worst nightmare would be a jerk move. And when I don’t feel like it to begin with, which is most of the time. And… Hmm. I guess I’m never your worst nightmare.” Pause. “Rar.”

“So… who are you?”

self.addToAppearance(HAT.Plumed);

“Name’s Moondog.” Moondog swept an extravagant hat from its head and bowed. “Oneiroturgic golem and assistant dreamweaver, here to-”

“Oneiroturgic golem?” Stygian said in disbelief. He barely hid his groan. “Another one of Star Swirl’s fantastic creations, I assume,” he muttered, “here to remind me of his greatness.”

“Excuse me,” snapped the Pony of Shadows. “I’m still here.”

ponyOfShadows.setVolume(0);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

Well, poop. The nocnica had already gotten enough despair to be cognizant and manipulate the dream on its own. At least having Stygian confront it would be better for his psyche than Moondog just booting it out.

Moondog didn’t miss a beat in responding to Stygian. Laughing, it said, “Not on your life! Nothing Star Swirl did, nothing descended from what he did, went into making me. I, my friend, am one hundred percent Princess Luna’s creation, from start to finish. And believe me, rubbing myself in your face is the last thing I want to do.”

--Error; PhrasingException eattemptRecovery();

Moondog blinked. “For a, um, variety of reasons. Holy Mom,” it whispered, “that came out so wrong, ew.”

“You,” Stygian said, tilting his head, “are most certainly not associated with Star Swirl.”

“And thank the fates for that!” Moondog said with a grin. “Dude’s got a tree so far up his butt he pukes apples.”

“…I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean by that.”

Natural language progression over time was fascinating, but also sucked. Time to skip over linguistics for the moment. “Never mind,” Moondog said. It dropped onto its rump. “So what’s eating you?”

Stygian snorted and turned away. “What do you care?” he mumbled.

“It doesn’t,” whispered the Pony of Shadows. “It merely-”

“Gonna have to stop you right there,” Moondog said, pointing at the Pony of Shadows. “I care a lot.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do too. So there.” Moondog nodded with a great finality.

Stygian pawed at the ground. “I can see you’re treating this with all the gravity it deserves,” he said.

“What makes you think I’m not? I’ve gotta shut that guy-” With its mane, Moondog pointed at the carving on the wall. “-out before I can talk to you, or else he’ll keep interrupting. Unless you can ignore him.”

“Ignore him?” Stygian scoffed. “He’s partly the reason I’m having this nightmare to begin with.”

“Hence why you should ignore him.”

Stygian rolled his eyes and turned away from both Moondog and the Pony of Shadows. “And he is partly the reason,” he mumbled.

“One step at a time, right?” said Moondog, spreading its wings wide. “We’ll get to the Reason, Part 2, once we deal with the Reason, Part 1. And if you can ignore the Reason, Part 1, mission accomplished.” It hoped it wasn’t being too casual and making it seem like this was all a game to it. Some ponies responded well to informal interactions, others didn’t.

“I suppose I can try.” Stygian held his head high and sucked in a breath through his nose. He lowered his head again and asked, half-skeptically, “Do you know much of envy? It was what drove me to become a monster in the first place, and had the Pony of Shadows not existed, doubtless I would’ve turned to some other force.”

“It is all you can do,” growled the Pony of Shadows. “You are nothing without me.”

Stygian’s ears turned towards the Pony of Shadows, he blinked rapidly, and his head twitched, but he kept talking. “I… simply wanted to do something of merit, and methods of accruing power that quickly are limited. Eventually, I lost myself. There were times when I couldn’t even remember why I wanted power, simply that I wanted it. Have you ever wanted to help, yet been so utterly outclassed by your own allies that your own contributions hardly matter?”

“I get that feeling every night.”

Mom was… something else. She was just so good at sculpting dreams that she was better than a construct purpose-built for that very job. It was hard to not feel envious about that. Mom knew about Moondog’s feelings, of course — it wasn’t about to let feelings of inadequacy stew — and was helping it get better, but dang. It didn’t help that Mom was just about the only pony remotely skilled in dream magic, so Moondog couldn’t shake the feeling that although it was the second-best dream mage in the world, that was out of two dream mages total.

ceiling.remove();

Moondog walked up next to Stygian. “I know I make this look easy-” It gestured up at the ceiling. Tile by tile, it broke apart and lifted away, exposing an alien night sky above. “-but I haven’t been doing this for that long. My mother, Princess Luna? She’s been sculpting dreams for over a thousand years. She barely even works; she thinks things and they are.” It snorted. “If I were half as good as she is, I’d outclass myself right now.”

Stygian attempted to hide his surprise, but then he sighed and hung his head. “Star Swirl in a few sentences,” he said. “The land had never seen such a wizard before. And from what I’ve heard, hasn’t since. Everything is effortless to him, be it vanquishing monsters or throwing spells. I doubt any other pony has had a larger influence on history.”

The Pony of Shadows cut in. “Are you even listening to-”

“And the worst part is how he doesn’t even mean it, right?” asked Moondog. “I bet Star Swirl just does magic and he’s such a natural at it that he’s better than just about everypony without trying.” At least Mom was a lot more aware about the skill gap and helped out Moondog whenever it asked.

“I don’t think he ever realized,” muttered Stygian, “just how small he made me feel. He designed new spells in his sleep, discovered entire branches of magic while I studied seashells. Anypony would feel a failure next to him.”

“Comparing yourself to a giant isn’t the smartest idea.”

“He and Mistmane were all I had to compare myself against! And he-” Stygian lashed his tail. “…had the gall to act like he wasn’t anypony special, as if anypony else could have come to the same conclusions he did. If he had simply acknowledged how intelligent he was…”

“Maybe he’s smart, but are you sure he’s all that wise? His default method of problem-solving is to pitch something off into the distance, where it’s somepony else’s problem.”

Stygian’s face contorted in anger and he advanced on Moondog. “That-!” He froze mid-stride. “Is not… entirely wrong…”

“Across dimensions, if possible.”

“Don’t listen to it,” hissed the Pony of Shadows. “It doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“It has more of them than you do,” Stygian said over his shoulder. “You used me for nothing more than-” He abruptly turned back to Moondog. “That thing isn’t actually the Pony of Shadows, true? It hasn’t escaped Limbo?”

“Nah, it’s just your subconscious.” Not technically true, but not technically wrong, either; when nocnice started feeding in earnest, they almost always latched onto part of a dreamer’s biggest anxieties. The despair apparently tasted better that way. But one way or another, now wasn’t the time to lecture Stygian on proper dreamworld semantics. “It’ll latch onto traumatic images and project your feelings through them and blah de blah. You know how it is.”

“I am far more than your subconscious,” whispered the Pony of Shadows. The carving was contorting, as if it was trying to pull itself from the wall. Probably a last-ditch effort by the nocnica as Stygian’s dream slipped out of its control.

“The real you might be,” Stygian said, not even looking at the carving. “You are not.” To Moondog, he said, “If I may ask… how do you handle your envy? My own attempts were… less than valiant.”

“Personally, I made Mom’s level my goal and now I’m doing my darndest to reach it through lots of work over time,” said Moondog. “‘Good enough’ isn’t good enough.” It started making gestures with its wings. “Is this technique for dream-sculpting fast enough? Could I make it more efficient? Are there any easier ones that produce the same results? Then I can apply myself to that goal rather than just feeling down. But, granted, that’s just me. You might need to stop working with Star Swirl altogether.” It shrugged. “I dunno. Try something when you wake up.”

“I see.” Stygian turned around to face the carving of the Pony of Shadows and sat down. He flicked his ears as he thought. Moondog walked up and sat down next to him, but stayed quiet. Self-reflection like that shouldn’t be interrupted. The Pony of Shadows tried to say things, but its words were distorted, as if the sounds themselves were falling apart. Or the nocnica was losing control.

Finally, Stygian said, “Why are you helping me like this? You barely know me. I am… grateful for it, but I don’t see why I deserve it.”

“Want the selfish reason or the selfless one?”

“…Both. Selfish first.”

makePresentation();

Moondog walked in front of Stygian, as if it were a lecturer, and pulled down a blackboard from nothing. “Alright. So I’m supposed to turn nightmares into good dreams, right?” As it spoke, a piece of chalk scribbled out little animated drawings of its words. “Now, I could just kick the Not-Pony of Shadows out and be on my way, but then you’d have the same nightmare again tomorrow night, since you’d still have that ginormous pile of envy and other issues, and I’d have to stop by again. Nipping those problems in the bud now means you have normal dreams tomorrow, and I don’t need to do anything, thereby freeing up countless nights in the future. In short…” Moondog raised a hoof to its mouth, as if telling some incredible secret, and stage-whispered, “I’m kinda lazy.”

“Laziness must have changed in definition since I was alive,” Stygian said as he examined the chalkboard, “for increasing your own workload to be lazy. And the selfless reason?”

Moondog pushed the chalkboard back up into nothing and sat down next to Stygian again. “It’s the right thing to do. What was I supposed to do, just leave you in your misery?” It spread out a wing and wrapped it around Stygian.

Stygian grimaced and quickly pushed away from Moondog. “Don’t get so-!” The two of them slid apart, Moondog’s wing cleanly popping off. “-close.” Stygian blinked at the wing hanging over his shoulder. “I, ah… like my… space.” He delicately held the wing out to Moondog with his magic, trying to look at it without actually looking at it.

“Sorry. Won’t do it again.” The wing pulled itself from Stygian’s grip, flapped over to Moondog, and reattached itself. “But really, I-”

Stone groaned as the Pony of Shadows suddenly forced itself from the wall. Darkness dripped from it and vanished as if it was disintegrating, its steps were those of a punch-drunk, and when it spoke, its speech was slurred to the point of near-incoherency. “Is worrrrrrds all it hasssss to offerrrrrrr?” it wetly rasped. The thud of its steps were the impacts of awkward stumbling, not the steady beats of a giant. “I can givvvvvve you powerrrr, rrrrrespe-”

“YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING FOR ME!” bellowed Stygian, making the entire room shake. “I lost everything I ever knew because of you! I cost my friends the same!” His horn started glowing, but he didn’t look like he noticed. “All you have ever brought me is grief and loss! This- golem has given me more help through words alone! I shall never return to you!”

The energy building up in Stygian’s horn exploded, blasting out in a shockwave. The Pony of Shadows wasn’t even able to scream. Bright blue light blotted out the world for a moment; when it faded, the Pony of Shadows wasn’t even a greasy smear in the wreckage of what had been the temple. Pillars had been crushed to dust, ash scored the floor, and a hole had been blown clear through the sky. Stygian himself was standing in the middle of a wide but shallow crater, breathing heavily. He collapsed onto his tail, staring blankly at where the wall had been. He blinked slowly.

temple.fix();

Moondog walked up next to Stygian as the temple rippled around them, slowly slipping back to its original state, minus the Pony of Shadows. Moondog couldn’t detect the nocnica; it must’ve fled after realizing it wouldn’t be getting any more sustenance from Stygian. It sat down next to Stygian as the crater beneath them flowed like water into smooth tiles again. It already knew the answer, but still asked, “Feel better?”

“No. Not remotely,” said Stygian bitterly. “Envy was just a small part of my… anxiety.” He rubbed his eyes. “I still have to live with the knowledge of what I did — to myself, to my land, to my friends — as the Pony of Shadows, and- I accomplished nothing. Some kind words from Star Swirl is one thing, but… other than that…” He folded his ears back. The few shadows that remained darkened and grew. When he spoke, his voice was a mix of sadness and hatred. “I nearly let that… thing plunge the world into endless despair, and all that happened was that I ripped my friends from their homes and their families! How can I forget something such as that?”

If the situation had been less serious, Moondog would’ve given the two of them shirts that said I nearly destroyed all light and hope in the world and all I got was this lousy T-shirt. Even though the lousy T-shirt wasn’t all Stygian would get. “Have you tried talking with somepony about it?” Moondog asked, keeping its voice as free of condescension as possible.

“Oh, and I suppose there are groups dedicated to helping those who have gone mad from rejection and nearly succeeded in ending the world,” Stygian said, rolling his eyes.

Moondog smiled. “I attempted to take over the world in a past life. And Mom — Princess Luna — she tried to take over the world in her current life. And we both know a guy who’s tried it twice.” Thrice, if you wanted to get technical and include his time with Tirek. And, while you were at it, Moondog itself had that one time with Discord. A dream world still technically qualified as “the world”, in a way.

“Befuddled surprise” was rapidly becoming Stygian’s default expression. “…Ah. That is… something.”

“Look, I don’t want to force you into anything, and I know I can’t solve all your problems with a single pep talk,” said Moondog. It lightly nudged Stygian in the ribs. “Just know that, if you want to actually sit down and have a serious conversation about this stupidly specific occurrence, there are ponies who can relate. Really, go to Princess Luna — and tell her I sent you, by the by — and she’ll gladly help you. Or Twilight. She’s crazy understanding about this sort of thing.” It considered also mentioning Celestia and Daybreaker, but Stygian hearing that half of the country’s tetrarchs were wrestling or had wrestled with severe issues regarding grandiose villainy wouldn’t be the greatest for his state of mind.

“Would they also help me adjust to this new Equestria?” Stygian asked, slightly hopeful. “I know nothing about this world. I merely gathered the Pillars together. Equestria already has its heroes. And I- I might accept my past, but will others?”

Moondog shrugged. “Eh, most likely. I mean, the Pony of Shadows didn’t even make the news. It got banished before it could do much.”

“I…” Stygian shook his head. “I almost covered Equestria in darkness, and you think ponies will simply accept me? Even if they know what I did?”

“Sure. Ponies nowadays are pretty chill about ancient powerful evil dudes running around. It’s happened…” Moondog tapped its hoof on the ground a few times. “…How ancient is Chrysalis? Let’s say she’s ancient. It’s happened with with five unique baddies in the past few years alone! And that’s not even counting you or repeats. But they always get punched out, sometimes reformed. Honestly, you’re not the worst that’s happened recently.”

“Should I be enthused,” Stygian asked, taking a step back, “or very, very concerned?”

“Yes.”

Stygian made a small noise that might’ve been a chuckle.

“And Luna or Twilight or whoever can get you a hobby, while they’re at it,” said Moondog, running after another idea. “Just something to fill the time and keep you from brooding.”

“You aren’t one to stop easily, are you?”

“Dreams can change quickly. Having this-” Moondog tapped its head. “-run fast all the time helps me stay on top of everything. So-”

self.giveItem(new Notepad());self.giveItem(new Pen());

Moondog clicked its pen and readied its clipboard. “Let’s get some ideas down. What do you like to do?”

“I, ah…” Stygian shuffled from hoof to hoof, as if nopony had shown that much interest in him before. “I… study legends and folktales. And I…” He massaged the back of his neck and looked away. “…have… long desired to add to those stories with some of my own.”

“Well, you can study the legends and folktales that have come around since you were gone,” said Moondog, scribbling Stygian’s thoughts down, “or you can try your hoof at writing. You’ll even have a pre-existing audience that wants to read a story written by somepony from over a thousand years ago.”

“An audience? How many ponies could I possibly reach?”

“Let’s just say that printing technology and literacy have both advanced a lot while you were gone. Once you’re done, you’ll have ponies from every corner of Equestria reading your book in days. Thousands of readers. Dozens of thousands. And you’ll make money from it, too!”

“Thous-” Stygian blinked at that, then shook his head as if to clear it. “But what would I write? All I can think of now is…” He gestured vaguely at where the Pony of Shadows had been. “Would ponies want to read about somepony getting rejected by their friends and sending themselves into a downward spiral of fraying sanity and destructive impulses?”

“Dude,” Moondog said, grinning. “That is so metal.”

“How is it metallic?” asked Stygian.

Moondog’s grin slipped a little. “Cool.”

“N-no, this isn’t cold at all.”

“Radical?”

“Extreme? Revolutionary? I… Perhaps, but…”

“…Sweet?…”

“…I don’t think you and I are speaking the same language. How is this sugary?”

self.setSlang(0);

“Impressive. Appealing. Ponies’ll like it. That sort of thing.”

Stygian tilted his head and squinted at Moondog. “Why not simply say that in the first place?” (Moondog managed to keep certain uncouth words from jumping out of its mouth.) “And why in the heavens would ponies want to read something like that?” Stygian gestured back and forth as if pointing at something. “It’s- depressing and… so… grim.”

“It’s emotional, and ponies like emotion,” said Moondog. It shrugged. “I don’t get it, either, but it works. Trust me.”

“Hmm.” Stygian paced back and forth, staring at the ground. “Well, if you say so. But how would I… get it out to readers? You make it sound like there are… systems for that.”

“Well, you just-”

--Error; NullPointerException e

“-um. Hmm.” Moondog rustled its wings and folded its ears back. “That, I actually don’t know,” it said. “Not the specifics, anyway.”

Although…

“But,” it said, a grin slowly creeping onto its face, “I might know somepony who does. Hang on.”

dream.setSetting(ROOM.Library);

The walls of the temple spun around, revealing shelves of dark hardwood filled with books on the other side. A little bit of tweaking in just the right way ensured that the contents of the books were coherent. Stone tiles plummeted down out of sight before coming back up as soft carpeting with tables and overstuffed chairs. The ceiling slammed back into place as arched vaults. Chandeliers and lamps brightly illuminated the entire room.

Moondog grinned and spread its wings wide. “Ta-daaaaaaaa!”

“Stars above,” breathed Stygian. “This is…” He smiled — genuinely smiled — for the first time since Moondog had entered his dream. “I have never seen so many books in one place before.” He tentatively walked over to a shelf and selected a book. Going straight to the title, he read, “Folktales of Zebrabwe. I have never heard of such a place.” A long pause, then giddiness overtook him and he laughed. “I suppose I have some stories to catch up on!” He didn’t even bother heading to a chair; he opened up the book on the floor and stuck his muzzle into it right then and there.

“And when you wake up,” said Moondog, smiling to itself, “ask Celestia or Luna to point you at the archives. More books in there than you could read in your life. Now wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stygian didn’t look up. “That won’t be a problem.”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=446172696e6720446f&lucid=n");

“And with you out of the way, Daring Do,” roared Ahuizotl, “I shall-”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);self.inhabit(blueCatMonkeyThing);

“-ask very politely if you’d be willing to help another pony get into writing. Please?”

Daring Do froze and blinked at Ahuizotl. “I- I’m sorry, what? I don’t- Why am I wearing a camouflage tutu? On a stage? At the latest DaringCon?”

“Because at the moment you’re subconsciously feeling like the intersection of your adventures and your writing means you’re trapped in a role, forced to act a certain way in order to give readers what they want and expect in order to get the money needed to fund adventures to write books to get money to so on and so forth, and each individual adventure is starting to feel formulaic and the same old song and dance all over again, and you just want to go on a quieter, less action-packed sabbatical for once that’d be better for the archaeological community and more appealing to you but less lucrative for your publisher, potentially putting the future of your franchise in jeopardy, and your financial ability and capacity to fund adventures along with it.”

timer.start();

Moondog waited. Dreams subtly churned in all sorts of interesting ways as the dreamer thought, and Daring’s was no exception. The stage flickered as she looked at her tutu. The crowd wavered as she looked at Moondog. Her tutu rippled as she looked at the stage. Ahuizotl’s body twisted as she looked at the crowd. All the while, her lips were moving soundlessly. Honestly, from the distant look in her eyes, it was like she wanted to be painted (as was usual for ponies who were thinking deeply). When she finally got it, she returned her attention to Moondog and said, “Moondog, right?”

timer.end();timer.getTime();return: 43.71sdaringDo.isNewPersonalBest();return: TRUE

“The one and only!” Moondog threw a thumbs-up with Ahuizotl’s tail.

“Are you really the same person who woke me up by hitting me in the face with a sledgehammer the last time we met?”

Moondog smiled in a way Ahuizotl never would. “I’m learning! And, technically, it was the second-to-last time we met, remember.”

“…Why is Ahuizotl wearing a sequined unitard?!”

“Because your mind is one of many strange, strange places in the collective unconscious, Daring.”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);

Ahuizotl’s outline rippled, and split into thousands of strands, and standing within the strands was Moondog. “So, anyway,” it said as the lines retracted into its mane, “I was wondering if you could help a friend of a friend get into writing. Yes, I know that’s a lot to ask. No, I won’t be offended if you turn it down. No, I haven’t told him who you are. No, I don’t plan to.”

Daring ripped her tutu off and tossed it into the crowd, which pounced on it. “Well, maybe,” she said slowly. “I don’t even know who this pony is.”

“Stygian. He came back with the other Pillars. You read about them in the newspaper, right?”

“Yeah, I heard. Stygian’s the one wh- Hang on.” Daring’s voice jumped up a few pitches and her wings opened up as she got excited. “I could get access to a primary source for the Pillars’ deeds who’s over a thousand years old?” She giggled and rubbed her hooves together. “Sign me up! He could be the worst writer in the world and I’d still want this!”

“Glad to hear it.” Moondog opened up a door to the collective unconscious. “I’ll tell him and iron out some more details. Is Canterlot a good place for you two to meet?”

“Canterlot’s fine. And before you go, if all this-” Daring gestured around herself. “-comes down to money, could you give me a rich jerk to beat up?”

dream.addActor(worstPony);

“Excuse me!” said Blueblood as he pushed to the front of the crowd. “Those are not the lines! What do you think I’m not paying you for?”

“Be right back,” said Moondog. But it doubted Daring could hear it as she dropkicked Blueblood in the face.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=5374796769616e&lucid=y");

Stygian was surrounded by books, most of them open. He seemed to be cross-referencing different versions of folktales, as well as different translations of the same version. His ears perked up when Moondog returned.

“She’s fine with helping you,” said Moondog. “Her name’s A. K. Yearling. Super popular author. She’ll be a big help. She wants to meet in Canterlot, if that’s okay with you.”

“Where in Canterlot? It’s the biggest city I’ve ever seen.”

“…Be right back.”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=446172696e6720446f&lucid=y");

Moondog blipped back into Daring’s dream trying and utterly failing to not look sheepish. “So, um,” it asked, “did you have a, uh, specific place in Canterlot you wanted to meet at?”

“Donut Joe’s,” Daring said as she tossed Blueblood across the stage. “Best cafe in town. In the country. And trust me, I’ve been everywhere.”

“Great. I’ll tell him.”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=5374796769616e&lucid=y");

“Is it close to the castle? I don’t want to get lost.”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=446172696e6720446f&lucid=y");

“Not that close, but not that far, either. Why don’t I give you directions?”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=5374796769616e&lucid=y");

“Is giving me directions now the greatest idea? I lack anything to record them with.”

“I’ll tell her to send you a letter, okay?”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=446172696e6720446f&lucid=y");--Error; SoBoredException e

“That’s fine. What’s his address?”

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=5374796769616e&lucid=y");--Error; SoBoredException e

“Beyond ‘Canterlot Castle’, I cannot say. Perhaps you could have the servants be on the lookout for letters?”

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, Moondog?”

“A. K. Yearling’s gonna send the castle a letter for Stygian in the next few days. Could you make sure he gets it?”

“…Certainly, but why is-”

“Also, I really need you to teach me how to bring ponies into others’ dreams.”

Frightening Foals for Fun and Finances

Luna was clearing the sky around a mountaintop when she sensed Moondog slip into the dream behind her. She wasn’t sure why Moondog kept trying to be so inconspicuous when entering a dream; it wasn’t like the dreamer was even able to notice it unless it let them. And big entrances were more fun, besides. “I need a moment,” she said, finishing off the tail of a pegasus-shaped cloud. She gave it a nudge and the cloud zipped away, wings pumping.

“Yep,” said Moondog. “Take your time.” No panic. Good sign.

Once the sky was empty and the clouds were cavorting around each other, Luna dimmed the sun just a tad and turned around. Moondog was patiently perched on a tiny bit of floating rock. It flicked a hoof and the rock blossomed like an upside-flower, unrolling from nothing until there was more than enough space for both of them to sit comfortably. “Did you want something?” Luna asked, alighting.

Moondog rustled its wings. “Well, Nightmare Night’s coming up in a few days, and it’s kinda your holiday, so… I wanna do something to celebrate you or it or whatever. And, yeah, I know I don’t have to do anything. It’s just… I wanna.”

Although Moondog’s “childhood” had hardly been normal, there were some feelings that Luna suspected were near-universal within parent-child relationships, the love and gratitude she was feeling now being an example. All told, such a gesture was a small thing, but the mere fact that Moondog wanted to do something mattered far more than whatever gesture it came up with and made Luna’s heart swell. “You certainly have my permission, if that is what you desire,” she said. “Ponies can live with dreams of ghosts and goblins for one night.”

Moondog twirled a lock of its mane around a hoof. “Well, see, that’s kinda the problem.” It took a deep breath. “Subtlety and restraint are…” It bumped its front hooves together and looked away. “…not among my fortes.”

“And the issue with that is?”

“Well, it’s- I mean- Nightmare Night’s supposed to be the fun kind of scary, but if I tried scaring ponies, I’d probably end up doing something like…” Moondog grabbed its upper and lower jaws and pulled them apart until its mouth was much too wide. As its body collapsed, from its throat slithered a gigantic, slimy, writhing thing, wormlike with horns and far too many spindly, over-jointed limbs. It turned on Luna and, fanged jaws dripping with venom and slobber, roared at her.

Wiping some spit off her face, Luna frowned. “Ah. Yes, I see.”

“I know, right?” said the worm. It dissolved into ash and Moondog stood up again. “Ponies say they like being scared,” it said, waving its hooves around, “but my whole job is making things not scary and getting your head chopped off by an axe murderer is scary but I’m pretty sure ponies don’t want that-”

“Moondog-”

“-and it’s kinda hard to tell that something’s just a dream and you’re safe when you’re in it but if you do know it’s a dream then it practically can’t scare you because you know you’re like extra safe because if anything happens you’ll just wake up and you can’t even get hurt-”

“Moondog-”

“-and that’s not even getting into different ponies thinking different things are scary and if I get confused I could give a terrifying nightmare to one pony because it was an awesome thrill to another pony and I’d never be able to forgive myself for that-”

“Moondog!”

Moondog twitched and (literally) zipped its mouth shut.

Part of Luna wondered how much more boring her life would be if Moondog had been nothing more than what she’d wanted when creating it. She definitely wouldn’t be talking about this. “Scaring ponies,” she said, “is more complicated than it might seem, but, in my opinion, fear stems from a lack of control. You know how nightmares come about because one cannot do this or is helpless to stop that.” Moondog nodded, and Luna continued, “So if you want to make a dream frightening without it being too frightening, I would make the dreamer less helpless. Let them outrun the monster, free themselves from its clutches, see it as a fake rather than a threat.”

“So… if I want to give ponies nightmares they’ll enjoy… I should just, like, put seams on the monsters? Like…” Moondog pulled its head open again. This time, the worm was clearly a rubber costume, and a badly-made one at that, although no pony could hope to wear a costume like that. There was no slobber and its roar was tinny, like a bad phonograph recording.

“You can certainly try,” said Luna. She squinted; the costume even had “Made in Chineigh” stamped on it. “Although going that far would probably inspire more laughs than screams. Perhaps you ought to dial it back slightly.”

“Eh, I dunno.” The worm vanished again; Moondog rubbed one leg against the other. “I mean, silly nightmare or not, it’s not like they’re choosing to have nightmares. Or even that they would know it was just a nightmare at the time.”

“I admit I have never considered deliberately giving ponies terrifying dreams,” Luna said. (Except for that one selenologist when she’d first come back, Waxing Gibbous. Screw that mare.) “This particular holiday… Perhaps it would be best if you tried scaring ponies in the real world. They would be able to realize the, ahem, reality of the situation far more quickly.”

Moondog made a face. “Do I have to?”

“Of course not,” said Luna. “But ponies identify more with the physical world than with dreams, so perhaps even a mildly frightening thing occurring to them in the real world would be more memorable.”

“How realityist.” Seeing the look on Luna’s face, Moondog quickly added, “I’m kidding! Really!”

Luna rolled her eyes and flexed her wings. “In any case,” she said, “I doubt I can help you with regards to dreams. For once, I have as little experience as you.”

“Well, Nightmare Night isn’t for another few nights,” Moondog said to itself. “I’ll think about it. Can I, um, come to you for advice on real-world scares?”

“Of course. If you decide to do so but are worried about ponies’ reactions, I would recommend Ponyville. They have a… gift for dealing with the abnormal with minimal fuss.”

“Understatement of the year, every year.”

Being the Princess of Dreams for centuries meant Luna had long since become immune to shock from things popping into existence before her, so she didn’t even break her stride when Moondog blipped over to her between dreams with no warning. “Are animate gargoyles a common thing?” it asked.

“Not in Ponyville,” Luna said. “Were you thinking of adding them?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to have one if it was just another one in dozens,” said Moondog. “Just something like…” It raised and lowered a wing, revealing a statue of a snarling, dragonlike creature perched on a plinth. “And not super detailed on the animation, either, just…”

The gargoyle blinked and flapped its wings as fluidly as if they were flesh. It kneaded its claws against its base. “To activate your gargoyle,” it growled, “please press nose. To turn your gargoyle off, please press left ear. To add a new action, please press-”

“Only, y’know, actually a little scary and a lot atmospheric,” Moondog said. It tapped the gargoyle’s left ear to freeze it. “Small, subtle movements ponies aren’t sure they saw, glowing red eyes, that sort of thing.”

Luna examined the gargoyle from top to bottom. “The design is exquisite,” she said, “although I feel it would work best as part of a crowd of inanimate gargoyles. A single moving statue is blatant. One in an otherwise still collection is uncanny.”

“Yeah, good point.” Moondog looked at the statue again, then shrugged and flared a wing; the gargoyle vanished behind it. “I’ll see if I can inspire the mayor to decorate Ponyville with gargoyles.”

“Were you planning on haunting Ponyville?”

“It’s where I’ll haunt if I go out. I’m just keeping my options open right now.”

Moondog actually looked a bit pleased with itself when it binged up. “Hey, Mom? Could I get your opinion on something?”

“Of course,” said Luna. “On what?”

“Ghosts are a common costume, so I was thinking I could get sheetfaced.”

Luna raised an eyebrow.

Moondog rolled its eyes. “Like this, obviously.” It pulled a white sheet from nowhere and draped it over itself, every inch the stereotypical ghost. “Then, when ponies try to look under it to see who I am…” It pulled the sheet up, revealing nothing underneath. “Boo.”

“Perfectly in the spirit of the holiday,” Luna said, smiling. “Shocking, yet unthreatening.” She affectionately rubbed the indentation that marked Moondog’s mane.

“Mooooom…” The sheet collapsed and vanished as Moondog, visible again, stepped back from under it. “Stp tht,” it mumbled, and beat its hair back down.

“Never. But, yes, that is the ideal amount of spookiness.”

“Huh.” Moondog nodded and began smiling. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

“Indeed.”

Luna was standing near the back at Derpy’s coronation (the trumpets had needed fixing) when she felt Moondog enter the dream. But when she looked around, she couldn’t see it.

“Hey! Hey, Mom!”

Luna looked down. Her shadow had detached itself from her and appeared to be waving at her; it was hard to tell which direction a featureless black shape was “looking”. “So I was thinking,” Moondog said from her shadow. “Shadows can’t hurt you at all, right? But they have to come from somepony, so a shadow without a pony would-”

“Moondog,” Luna said flatly. After almost a dozen questions in the past night alone, her patience was wearing a tiny bit thin. “You need not come to me for every single scaring suggestion. You are doing perfectly fine. Do not worry.”

“But it’s the last night before Nightmare Night,” her shadow said, flailing its legs, “and I want to be sure that I’m not-”

Sighing, Luna ripped the shadow from the floor, shook some three-dimensionality into it, and set it back down. “I know what it is like to second-guess oneself,” Luna said, “but there always comes a time when you must simply have faith in your own abilities. I believe you will not be too scary tomorrow night.”

Color bled back into Moondog. “I know,” it mumbled, looking down at its hooves. “But I’m just- I don’t wanna screw this up!”

“You won’t,” said Luna. “It is perfectly normal to be afraid of poor performance when doing something new, but eventually, you must do it, one way or another.”

“But if I go too-”

“You won’t.”

“But-”

“You won’t.”

Moondog looked Luna in the eye. It opened and closed its wings, then smiled. “Thanks, Mom.” A second’s pause, then it stepped forward and hugged Luna. “For all your help.”

Luna returned the gesture immediately, wrapping her wings around the two of them. “You know that even if you scare somepony too much,” she said, “they shall most likely forget it in a few days, yes?”

Moondog’s grip tightened a little. “Yeah. I just want to do it right, and- Thanks. Sorry if I’ve been bugging you too much in the past week.”

“You are most welcome, and do not worry. I am happy to help.” Luna broke off the hug. “Whether you go to Ponyville or stay in the dream realm, I hope tomorrow night goes well for you.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I should get back to dreams. See you tomorrow, and adios.” Moondog saluted and vanished into a puff of dust.

Nightmare Night was well under way in Ponyville, and the moon shone down cold and pale upon the town. Costumed ponies roamed the shadowed streets, demanding sugar from the inhabitants. Toilet paper fluttered from a few carefully chosen trees and lampposts. The wind that blew through the streets was cool without being biting. It was late enough that trick-or-treating was starting to wind down while the annual town festival was winding up. And on the edge of town, three not-so-little-anymore fillies trotted down a certain path to a certain castle.

“Does Twilight even pass out candy at her castle?” Apple Bloom asked, adjusting her Robbing Hoof cap. “I always thought she gave it out at the party in the town square.”

“For the last time, I don’t know,” said Scootaloo. She had to speak a bit louder than usual, as her little set of Night Guardsmare armor clinked as she walked. “But it can’t hurt to try, right? Maybe she keeps the best candy for ponies who’ll stop by and say hi to her.”

“Besides,” added Sweetie Belle, “we’ve already got a good haul, so it’s not like we’re missing out on any candy by going to her house instead of somepony else’s.” She pulled at the strap around her head, tightening her hippogriff beak. In spite of Rarity’s assurances, she kept feeling like it was going to slip off.

They reached the bottom of the steps and climbed up. “Fine,” said Apple Bloom, “but we can’t wait too long.” Knock knock. “What if she’s already left?”

“Wait a minute, knock again, wait another minute, then we can go,” said Sweetie Belle. She leaned over the railing to peer in through one of the windows. “Although it looks kinda dark in there. Maybe-”

Something flashed inside. “She’s coming!” whispered Sweetie Belle. “At least I think she is. Get ready!”

A few moments later, the door opened, and the Crusaders chorused, “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give us someth-” Their voices trailed off as they saw who — what — was in the doorway.

A skeleton in tattered rags stood on the top step, leering down at them with that lipless grin. Bones audibly ground against each other as it moved and wet dirt still clung to it. Its “clothes” were barely even recognizable as cloth anymore, they were so torn and dirty. Cold blue fire burned in its eye sockets as it swept its gaze over them. The Crusaders screamed and each pulled themselves into a tiny little ball.

“Hi, girls!” chirped the skeleton. “I love your costumes! Especially yours, Scootaloo.”

Apple Bloom lowered her hoof, just a little. She stared at the skeleton; the skeleton stared back. She took in the colorless horn, the bony wings… “Twilight?” she gasped.

“In the flesh!” the skeleton said, thrusting its — her? — chest forward. “Except obviously not. Except yes, you just can’t see it!” That was definitely Twilight’s laugh. “I’m working on my illusion spells. Good, right?” It was impressive how a skeleton could smirk when it literally had only one expression.

Once Scootaloo worked up the courage to look, her jaw dropped. “Whoa,” she breathed. “That is so cool. Can I touch it?” She hopped up to Twilight and reached out.

“No!” yelped Twilight, quickly taking a step back. “It, uh, just feels like- y’know, fur! And, and- it’s a delicate spell! If you touch it, it could fall apart. So: no touchy.” Her bones clacked together as she wagged a calcified hoof at them. “No touchy.”

Sweetie Belle maneuvered herself to look down Twilight’s ribcage. The sight kept distracting her and tying her tongue. “S-so, um… We were… kinda hoping… You even got the shadows on the inside right! How do you do that?”

“Any chance you got a secret stash of candy?” asked Apple Bloom. “Just in ca-”

Twilight’s wings flared so wide the bones seemed to risk detaching from each other. “HOW’D YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?” she screamed. “STARLIGHT SWORE SHE’D NEVER TELL ANYONE!” A pause. “Ha! Kidding. Sorry, girls, but there’s no candy here.”

“Aw, c’mon!” said Scootaloo. “Pleeeaaase?” She made the most adorable eyes she could muster.

Unfortunately, Twilight proved impervious to cuteness. “Really, there’s no candy,” she said. The Crusaders all groaned, and Twilight continued, “If I had any, you’d all be the first to get it. Mostly because you’re the first ponies to come over here tonight. But thanks for stopping by and getting scared!” She looked over her shoulder into the castle. “There’s a few things I need to finish up first. See you at the festival, and adios, amigas!” Saluting, she stepped back and closed the door in the Crusaders’ faces.

“Dangit,” said Scootaloo. She swatted at the door. “I was kinda hoping…” She shrugged and hopped down the stairs. “At least the skeleton was cool.”

“Totally,” said Sweetie Belle.

The road to Ponyville didn’t lead directly to the town square, so the Crusaders cut across a field, soon weaving between the outlying houses. With the houses blocking out the moon, shadows crisscrossed the streets.

“I wonder how hard it is for her to do it,” said Apple Bloom. “Maybe she could do it for me next year.”

“I dunno, she sounded like it was a pretty hard spell,” said Scootaloo.

“Yeah, but she’s Twilight, and after she studies for a year-”

Sweetie Belle jumped and spun around. “What was that?!” she squeaked, pointing down a particularly dark alley. “Did you hear that?”

Apple Bloom looked over. She couldn’t see anything where Sweetie Belle was pointing; it was almost black. “Hear what?” she asked. She squinted through the lightless frame. There might’ve been something in there. Might.

“Something was breathing!” Sweetie’s words were so high-pitched that her voice was cracking. “Right next to me!”

The Crusaders stopped and listened. The only sounds were the usual sounds of the night and distant noises from the festival. Scootaloo snickered. “Stop being such a fraidy-foal. There’s nothing-”

The wind gusted out of the alleyway, right into Apple Bloom’s face. It was hot and damp. She yelped and quickly backpedaled as her heart rate spiked. Scootaloo’s voice stopped; her eyes were wide and her wings were limp at her sides.

Sweetie Belle was backing up, already pressed against the houses on the opposite side of the street. “See? You two felt that, too!”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo scrambled after her. “It’s- probably nothing,” Scootaloo said, trying to sound casual even though her voice was higher-pitched than Sweetie Belle’s. “J-just a Nightmare Night prank, right?”

“R-right!” said Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle wasn’t convinced at all.

“S-so,” said Scootaloo, “we’ll just- keep- going to the party! They’re not getting us.” She spun around and yelled at the alley, “You’re not getting us! Ha ha! C’mon, girls, let’s move.”

“Stop mocking the ghost, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle whispered as they shuffled down the street. They looked back every few seconds, but nothing was following them. And it was following them closely.

“It’s not a ghost,” said Scootaloo. “Ghosts don’t breathe, do they?”

“They are dead,” said Apple Bloom. “And if they did, their breath’d be chilly.”

“Well, if it’s not a ghost, what is it?” asked Sweetie Belle. But she sounded a little bit calmer.

“Somethin’ from the Everfree, maybe. Y’know, it’s as scared of us as we are of it and all that, and that’s why it’s stickin’ to the shadows. Prob’ly just got lost.”

“Besides,” added Scootaloo, “it’s light enough that we’ll be able to see it coming.”

Pitch darkness fell over the area like a blanket.

“Goldang it, Scoots.”

“Shut up, Apple Bloom.”

Something huffed; another breath washed over Apple Bloom’s face. She tried backing up, but found herself pressed against the other two. All three of them were shaking in their own private earthquakes. Something crunched. Whatever was following them, it was only a few scant feet away. And Apple Bloom couldn’t even see her hoof in front of her face.

“A-alright,” said Sweetie Belle, “um, just lemme-” A spark, and her horn flared to life, finally revealing what was hiding in the darkness.

Nothing.

Nothing but a disembodied shadow, connected to a set of hoofprints. Low, cackling laughter rang through the alleyway as the shadow spread its wings wide.

The Crusaders all attempted to hide behind each other at once. “Uh, girls?” said Scootaloo, her wings shaking. “I don’t think-”

The emptiness before them split into a sharp-toothed grin. “Good, gooooooood,” whispered the voice of Nightmare Moon. “Fear. It adds a most delicious taste to the flesh…” The shadow took a step forward and a hoofprint appeared in the dirt.

Apple Bloom hurled her bag at the shape; candy splattered against nothing. The Crusaders shrieked as one and bolted. Where, they didn’t know. That wasn’t important. They just needed to get away. Houses blurred, lamps were reduced to streaks in their vision, and the whistle of the wind grew to a howl as their little hooves pounded the ground. Was that low sound following them a devilish laugh? Or was it just their hearts beating in their ears?

By some miracle, they eventually found themselves back in the town square, with all the adults. They piled behind the apple-bobbing basin and peeked out, one by one. “Is it still following us? Is it gone?” gasped Scootaloo.

“I dunno!” Apple Bloom squinted down the street. “I can’t see it!”

“Of course you can’t, it’s invisible, you dodo!”

“Um, excuse me?” asked Carrot Top nervously. “You three are kinda in the way-”

“I don’t hear anything,” said Sweetie Belle, “and I don’t see any footprints.”

“Go out and check,” said Scootaloo, nudging Sweetie Belle.

“You’re, um, holding up the line,” Carrot Top said, more loudly.

“What? Me? No way, Apple Bloom should go.”

“And why me?”

“ ’Cause you’re the strongest of all of us. Remember when you almost took a cart through a fire swamp?”

“Hey!” said Carrot Top. “There are a lot of ponies waiting to bob for apples here!”

“All of us, on three,” said Scootaloo. “Okay?” She buzzed her wings nervously.

“Fine,” said Sweetie Belle.

“One-two-three-go, or one-two-go-on-three?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Y’know what, from three.” Scootaloo dug her hooves into the ground. “Okay, three…”

“Will you hurry up?!” yelled Carrot Top.

“Two… one… go!”

The Crusaders jumped from behind the apple tub at the same time, much to the release of the ponies waiting to bob. They all stared at the street they’d run from, breathing heavily. But nothing came.

They waited. Nothing continued to come.

When nothing kept coming after a solid minute, the Crusaders started rolling on the ground and laughing. “That was awesome!” crowed Scootaloo.

“I know, right?” said Sweetie Belle. “That Nightmare Moon voice was really good!”

“Y’think that was Twilight?” Apple Bloom asked. She trotted up to the street and squinted down it. Nothing. “Tryin’ her illusions again?”

“It must’ve been! Who else could’ve done it?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo gasped. “Unless it’s another villain making us think it’s Nightmare Moon!” she said. “Think about it: if it’s Nightmare Moon, Twilight and the others can just zap her with the Elements of Harmony, so that’s what they’ll try! But if it’s not Nightmare Moon, maybe the Elements won’t work on them!”

“That’s a stupid idea,” said Sweetie Belle. “You’re stupid.”

“It’s not stupid! Why is it stupid?”

“A, nopony would really think it was Nightmare Moon, since Luna’s fine. B, the Elements can zap everybody. And C, if it was a real villain, they’d be crushing houses right about now.”

The Crusaders all looked down the street. No house-crushing.

“Well, I think it’d be cool,” pouted Scootaloo.

“Not on Nightmare Night,” said Apple Bloom. “It’d mess up trick-or-trea- Conflab it! I left my candy back there!” She galloped down the street.

“Hey, wait!” yelled Scootaloo.

“It could be dangerous!” said Sweetie Belle.

Apple Bloom didn’t pay them any attention. She was pretty sure it’d been Twilight, anyway. Youthful curiosity, Crusader determination/boneheadedness, and the call of candy pulled her onward. She retraced their footprints down the street, around corners, through- There it was. The cluster of footprints where they’d seen the shape. She even found the larger footprints the shadow had made.

What she couldn’t find was her candy bag. Even in the dim streetlights, there was a distinct lack of treats — especially odd, since candy had gone flying everywhere once she’d tossed the bag. There weren’t even any wrappers. Apple Bloom paced back and forth around the street with her nose to the ground, looking for candy, coming up empty.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo ran up behind Apple Bloom. “What’re you doing?” Sweetie stage-whispered. “You don’t know who could be here!”

“Twilight,” said Apple Bloom, poking around a trash can. No candy. “And I can’t find my candy.”

“You can’t?” Sweetie lit up her horn. Nothing jumped out at them from the shadows and no candy was revealed. “Huh. D’you think Twilight took it?”

“Does Twilight like candy all that much?” asked Scootaloo. “I thought-”

“She don’t like it as much as Pinkie,” Apple Bloom said as she rooted through somepony’s flower pots (nothing), “but she likes it. I didn’t think she liked it enough to steal it, though.”

Sweetie Belle cast her light around the alley. “Do you think being a princess gets you a candy stipend of some sort? With how much Celestia likes cake, that wouldn’t surprise me. So if Twilight ran out… I dunno.”

Apple Bloom looked inside a mailbox and only found a muffin. She sighed and her ears dropped. “C’mon, let’s get back to the party,” she said. “My candy ain’t here.”

“Don’t worry, you can have some of ours,” said Sweetie, nudging Apple Bloom in the shoulder.

“Sure!” said Scootaloo. “We’ll each give you half of ours!”

“I was thinking more like a third,” said Sweetie Belle. “See, if you give her half and I give her half, she’ll have two halves, which is one whole, while we’ll have only one half each. But if we each give her a third, we’ll all have the same, ’cause-”

“You know what, I’ll take your word for it,” said Scootaloo. She rolled her eyes. “You’re turning into Twilight.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. She can do illusions like whoa.”

The festival that night was one of the best in years. Ponyville had gone all-out with the decorations; in addition to the usual trimmings, torches lined the streets, gargoyles perched on the eaves, the town hall had been turned into an ominous castle, pumpkins leered from every street corner, and more. The atmosphere was so thick that Scootaloo kept insisting one of the gargoyles was following her. The games had been expanded a lot since last year, mostly on advice from Pinkie (sadly, Apple Bloom only came in third in the pumpkin-pie-eating contest). And Zecora capped the night off with tales of a monster called an “obia” from her homeland, which…

“Those creatures will snatch all you foals from our town, and they’ll flee to the woods — you will never be found! They will take you straight back to their witch and her lair; to escape, I’m afraid, you will not have a prayer. When she finds herself taken by just the right whim, for herself she shall make a fine coat from your skin!”

Well. Applejack wasn’t around, but Apple Bloom kind of wanted to see how she’d react to a story like that. By the time the night was over, the Crusaders were well on the road to being fully tuckered out.

They were sitting with their backs against a lamppost, each on a different side. “Thish wash a goo’ night,” Scootaloo said through a mouthful of caramel. She swallowed and rummaged through her bag again. “I don’t think I’ve ever got this much candy before. Even after I gave a third of it away.”

Apple Bloom moved the peppermint she was sucking on below her tongue. “Sorry ’bout that,” she said. “But-”

“I’m not complaining!” Scootaloo said quickly. “Just pointing out that we got a buttload of candy!” She buzzed her wings. “I wonder if we can complain to Twilight about her taking your candy. You didn’t see her, did you? I was too busy disemboweling pumpkins to look.”

“She’s been around, but I think she changed her costume,” Sweetie Belle said. “She looked like a windigo.”

“Why’d she change? That skeleton was awesomely creepy.”

“Dunno. We can ask her when we pester her about Apple Bloom’s candy.”

“Then c’mon. Let’s get to lookin’.” Apple Bloom toppled onto her hooves and arched her back. Her sugar rush had wound down a while back and she already knew she’d sleep like a log.

The Crusaders supported each other as they meandered through the cleanup. Cheerilee hauled a cart around to collect all the streamers. Big Mac collected the pumpkins. Lyra stared in confusion at a ghost’s sheet. And Twilight and Rarity were retrieving the gargoyles from the roofs.

“Wherever are we going to store them all?” Rarity asked as she dropped another one in the cart behind them. “I really don’t know what Mayor Mare was thinking. They certainly set the mood, but they’re all but useless outside of Nightmare Night.” She was dressed in what could only be described as military chic, with camouflaged armor not dissimilar to the Royal Guard’s, but as fabulous and glamorous as only she could make it, complete with heels. It wouldn’t have looked that out-of-place on a runway.

Twilight plucked four gargoyles at once from their perches. “The Castle of Friendship has a lot of storage space,” she said, “and the mayor just said she had a good idea about this.” She noticed the Crusaders approaching and waved. “Hi, girls!” she chirped. “I love your costumes!” As a windigo, she was wearing a blue jumpsuit trailing blue streamers magically suspended in the air.

“I know,” said Scootaloo. “You already told us back at the castle.”

“I did?” Twilight frowned. “When?”

“We stopped by right before we came to the party,” said Apple Bloom. “You were testin’ your illusions to look like a skeleton, and-”

“What are you talking about?” Twilight asked. “I didn’t do anything with illusions tonight.”

“Dun-DUN-dunnnnnnnnnnnn!” yelled Pinkie Pie, making everypony jump. She smiled and pronked away without another word.

After a moment of silence, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom forward. Quickly adjusting her hat, Apple Bloom said, “Well, uh, we, uh, stopped by the castle ’fore we went to the party, and, uh, you answered the door-”

“But you looked like a skeleton,” said Sweetie Belle. “And I don’t mean like dressed up like one, like an actual skeleton.”

Rarity shuddered. “How horrid,” she whispered.

“It was awesome!” Scootaloo said, jumping into the air.

“And you said you just testin’ your illusions and shooed us to the festival,” said Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, that wasn’t me,” Twilight said slowly. “I don’t remember anypony stopping by.” She tapped her chin, hmming. “I guess it could’ve been Starlight,” she muttered. “She’s not really a Nightmare Night mare… But why would she-”

“And then,” Apple Bloom continued, “when we were goin’ to the party, we-”

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack trotted up. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you! C’mon, it’s late and you need to get home.”

“But AJ-”

“No buts! It ain’t gonna be my fault if you can’t get up for school tomorrow.”

“Oh, alright.” Apple Bloom flicked her tail. “See you tomorrow, girls.”

As Apple Bloom and Applejack walked away, Twilight said, “So, what happened on the way back from the castle?”

About thirty seconds later, Apple Bloom heard Rarity shriek, “Nightmare Moon?!”

Much to her chagrin, Apple Bloom found herself nodding off as she and Applejack headed home; she finally blacked out just past the gate and came to with Applejack carrying her into Sweet Apple Acres’ front room.

“Musta been a busy night, for you to get this tired,” chuckled Applejack.

“I ain’t tired,” protested Apple Bloom. She yawned dramatically as she wiggled off of Applejack’s back.

“Get some rest, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “I gotta help with the cleanup, but I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

And so Apple Bloom dragged herself up the staircase to the room. She was so tired that the hallway seemed to be tilting. Once she stumbled into her room, she pulled off her costume, tossed each part of it into a different corner into her room, and turned to her bed to sleep. But what she saw woke her up almost immediately.

There was a bag sitting on her bed, exactly like the trick-or-treating bag she’d had. She looked at the note attached, with its elaborate, olde-timey letters.

Your offering was most appreciated, but I will not take more than my fair share.
— NMM

She immediately upended the bag. Piles of candy spilled onto the floor. All the candy she’d lost to Nightmare Moon. Or at least almost all of it. Caramel had given her two bags of candied chestnuts and now she only had one, she was missing some nougats, and there wasn’t any gum in there at all. But that was a small price to pay for one of the best Nightmare Night scares ever.

She quickly gathered the candy back up, making sure to check under her bed so that none of it would go to waste. Thankfully, as she catalogued her treats, she found that most of her favorites were still around. Except for peppermints. Why had Nightmare Moon had to take all the best peppermints? That was just-

Clink.

She sat up straight, her ears twitching.

Clink clink.

Something was tapping at her window. Her second-floor window.

Clink.

With a gulp, Apple Bloom asked, “Hello?”

Clinkclinkclink. It was faster, more insistent. One thing was certain: it definitely wasn’t the atmosphere of Nightmare Night getting to her.

“Okay, Apple Bloom,” Apple Bloom whispered to herself. “You can do this. You’re a big pony. You ain’t scared of nothin’.”

She braced herself. No sudden clinks.

“So you’re gonna just head over there and see what’s out there and that’ll be that.”

CLINK. Apple Bloom surprised herself by not twitching.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, and Apple Bloom marched to the window. She was a big pony. She wrenched the window open, ready for anything.

But not nothing.

Outside her window was the usual tableau of Ponyville at night, a few lights dying down as the grownups cleared away the last of the decorations. Nothing, however, that could tap her window. Apple Bloom looked left, right, up, down, and still saw nothing. She slowly pivoted her ears, listening for anything, but no sounds were out of the ordinary.

“Probably just a bird,” whispered Apple Bloom as she slowly drew her head back inside. “Or a bat, tryin’ to get in.” It didn’t sound any more convincing when said out loud. She closed the window.

Instead of herself, Nightmare Moon stared back at her from the reflection, armor and all.

Apple Bloom twitched, and suddenly Nightmare Moon looked terrified. When she took a few steps back, Nightmare Moon did, too. She stopped moving and tilted her head one way. So did Nightmare Moon. She tilted her head the other way. So did Nightmare Moon. She raised her hoof. So did Nightmare Moon. She picked her nose. So did Nightmare Moon. But was it Apple Bloom’s imagination, or did her reflection’s eyes narrow, just a little?

She tried flexing her back to see if anything happened with “her” wings, but nope. “I thought Twilight said she didn’t do nothin’ with illusions,” mused Apple Bloom.

“She didn’t, Ms. Bloom,” said Nightmare Moon, flaring her wings.

Apple Bloom squeaked and shuffled away. Nightmare Moon stayed in the reflection, grinning toothily at her. She gave a deep, throaty chuckle as she disintegrated into wisps of smoke.

“Whoa,” whispered Apple Bloom. She scrambled back to the window, but the only reflection was hers. She looked this way and pressed herself against the glass that way. No trace of NIghtmare Moon. But was her reflection her reflection? Was it trailing behind her a teensy bit? Was her reflected room a quarter-inch larger than her real room? Did her reflected shadow have wings?

After maybe three minutes of staring at her window and one confused visit from Applejack, Apple Bloom gave up. If there was something off about her reflection, she’d have spotted it. Nightmare Moon was gone. Nothing was wrong. And as for herself? She was a big pony. She wasn’t scared of anything.

Including what Applejack would think of her sleeping with the light on tonight.

It played merry havoc on her schedule every year, but Luna positively adored Nightmare Night, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the holiday being about her. It was fun to be ghoulish for one night, to cut loose and (within reason) be a little taboo. The activities and games (different in each town she visited) were enjoyable, especially the countrywide favorite of pumpkin carving. Costumes let her be creative in ways she normally couldn’t; she’d been a mearhwolf this year. Harmony and friendship were even quietly encouraged by the way trick-or-treating was so much more fun with others than without. And to top it all off, she got oodles of free candy from foals’ offerings. So much candy.

When she entered the dream realm that night, her tracking spell couldn’t find Moondog. She didn’t think much of it, especially when Moondog was found two brainstorms later. The two of them met somewhere near Canterlot’s confluence of dreams, Moondog looking no worse for wear. “Just thought I’d let you know, Mom,” it said, “I… went out…” Its voice trailed off as it stared at Luna.

Luna flicked an ear. “Yes?” she asked.

“Mom, you… still have the, uh…” Moondog pointed at its mouth.

“Hmm? Ah. Yes.” Luna spat out her plastic fangs; they vanished in midair. “Apologies.”

“How does that even work? I bet your physical self was wearing them, but-”

“Psychology, self-perception, inertia of qualia, and unconscious focus on a certain appearance when slipping between the physical and dream realms. It is why I am still wearing this.” Luna pointed at her crown.

Moondog nodded slowly. Its tail twisted and untwisted. “Uh-huh. I see.”

“You would if you paid more attention to-”

“SO! What, um, was, what was your night like?”

Luna glared flatly at Moondog, but then shook her head and said, “Memorable. Sagineigh veritably tripped over itself trying to accomodate me, although the situation progressed far more smoothly once I convinced them to stop. Pumpkin carving there proved to be one of the most cutthroat sports I have ever seen. I was thoroughly trounced at gourd catapulting, but was able to regain some dignity in the apple bob. Nightmare Night carols are a tradition there, surprisingly enough, and I learned a few of them. And one enterprising filly managed to slip a spider into my peytral.” She looked down the front of said peytral, as if the spider had managed to pass into the dream realm with her. “I let her take some of my candy for managing that.”

“Cool,” Moondog said with a nod. “I decided to bite the bolt and went out to the physical world. I think when either you or Discord rejiggered me, it messed with my… interaction… things with physical stuff, because it didn’t feel quite that bad this time. Had to kinda strain to use magic, but oh well.” Shrug. “At least I could use magic. Swung by Ponyville, did some miscellaneous spooking whenever I saw small groups of ponies alone. I might’ve gone a bit too far with one filly, so I’ll keep an eye on her for the next few nights in case of nightmares. Also, it turns out I can ‘eat’ candy and convert it to magic to recharge myself a little. Who’da thunk? Once everyone was asleep again, I blipped back into the dream realm and, well, here I am.”

“And did you have a good night?”

Moondog smiled. “You know what, Mom? I think I did.”

Machine Teaching

How come ponies’ bad dreams so often revolved around school? Tests you hadn’t studied for, being late to class, being naked at school (and that also being bad for some reason)… Moondog decided it would have to ask Mom about that. Or maybe just do some studying itself. (Heh, studying about school.)

Moonlit Meadow was having one of those “not studied” dreams. She was sitting in the middle of a gymnasium-sized classroom, staring feverishly at the confusing mass of foreign languages, illegible runes, esoteric symbols, and tax laws on her paper. All the other desks were empty, except for the teacher’s, far at the front of the room. The teacher herself was some malformed combination of pony and dragon, gazing at Meadow as if she were her next meal. Which was entirely possible, given the context.

“One minute left, Ms. Meadow,” the teacher boomed disapprovingly. Meadow squeaked something uncouth as sourceless clock ticks grew louder and louder.

self.inhabit(teacher);scramble(test.getHeader());

Moondog-teacher picked up a sheet of paper on the desk; its eyes widened. “Aww, booger,” it said. “Pencil down, Meadow. I’m afraid this test is invalid.”

Meadow tentatively looked up, her ears slowly rising. “Um. What?”

“I made a most horrendous typo and the entire test suffered for it,” said Moondog. It limped to Meadow’s desk held the paper up. “See? Right here.” It pointed at a line in the top right corner labeled Your Naem. “The entire test must have seemed quite unreadable thanks to that error.”

“Um…” Meadow looked at the first question: Pse ndalove së lexuari tregimin për të përkthyer një fjali të rastit? “Yeah. That error’s the reason I was having trouble.”

“And so, to make up for my grievous error, I’m afraid I have no choice but to give you an A-plus. Plus. Also-”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

The teacher’s body dissolved, swirled, and re-solidified back into Moondog’s. “Hey,” it said, grinning. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

“Moondog!” Meadow’s face lit up and she tackled Moondog in a hug. “What’re you doi- Hold on.” She pushed away, frowning. “I’m not comatose again, am I?”

“Nope! As far as I can tell, you’re a-okay. You feeling alright in the head?”

“Yeah. Nothing weird or anything. I told my parents and doctors what happened, and-” Meadow looked down, pawed at the ground, and flicked her tail. “Mom and Dad didn’t know what to say, but I’m pretty sure they believed me. I mean, on the one hoof, magical dream not-pony helps wake me up from a coma, but on the other, it’s not that out-of-place for Princess Luna, and it’s… It’s just… weird, you know? No offense or anything!” she quickly added.

“None taken. I am weird, and I’m loving every minute of it.”

Meadow giggled. “So what’re you doing here?”

“You wanna learn dream magic?”

Meadow took a few steps back, as if she’d been struck. “Wha-? Dream-? I can do that? But I’m just an earth pony! I can’t do any cool spells or-”

“And that, my friend, is one of the neatest catches about dream magic,” said Moondog. “It doesn’t matter what tribe you are, or even what species. Take a race with no innate magic in the physical world, and as long as they can dream, they can use dream magic.” Moondog smirked and tapped the side of its muzzle. “It’s being aware that you’re dreaming to train yourself in dream magic that’s the hard part.”

Moondog quickly wrapped a wing around Meadow and pulled her close. “So!” Moondog twirled a baton into existence and gestured all around the room. “You wanna be the master of all you survey? Have complete control over everything you see? Make your own worlds night to night?”

“Totally!” Even half-pinned at Moondog’s side, Meadow was nearly a superball bouncing with excitement.

“Too bad! I can’t offer that. But I can make it look like you’re doing that!” Moondog lightly poked Meadow in the chest, the baton kaleidoscoping into nothing as it did so. “None of this is real, remember.” It released Meadow and stepped away. “First, we need to remove all distractions.”

dream.set(NULL);

Moondog raised its head and its horn sparked. The entire room and everything in it twitched and twisted as if they were being wrapped around a spindle. The floor pulled itself out from beneath Moondog and Meadow while the walls caved in. Everything rose in the air, caught in a windless tornado, and collected in a swirling ball above the two of them. It twisted into a whirlpool and vanished into Moondog’s horn. All that remained was an empty expanse of white, holding just the two of them.

Meadow turned in place, spinning around and around and around. “Hellooooooo!” she yelled. No echo. She came to a halt facing Moondog. “I don’t have to, like, make a mountain range, do I?”

“Of course not,” said Moondog. “Not yet, anyway.” It was sorely tempted to just drop down a mountain range off in the distance for fun, but, well, that’d be distracting. It extended and curled its wings into a wall around itself. “Now, we’re gonna start-”

self.setAppearance(auntCelly.getDefaultAppearance());

“-with shapeshifting.” Moondog flared its wings outward, shedding its skin like a fire shed sparks as it replaced its body with Aunt Celly’s, crown and peytral and all. Examining its horseshoes for imaginary dust, Moondog said, “It’s kinda neat.” Dang. Aunt Celly’s coat was super white. How much time did she spend keeping it looking pristine? A few specks of dirt in the wrong places could ruin her whole look.

“Shapeshifting,” Meadow said flatly, folding her ears back. “We’re. Starting. With shapeshifting.” Her mouth moved, but she didn’t say anything more, as if her indignation quota had already been exhausted.

“Of course!” Moondog stepped out of the dust cloud that Aunt Celly’s body turned into. “It’s the easiest part of dream magic, believe it or not. You know your body, so you know how to change it, what works for you and what doesn’t, what changes feel like, and so on.”

“I…” Meadow furrowed her brow and frowned. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does. That’s the way dreams work.” One of the benefits of dream magic used within the dreamer’s own head: an awful lot of things ultimately boiled down to “it’s a dream”, one way or another. (Twilight had been sorely disappointed when she’d learned that.) “Now, who or what do you wanna be?”

And immediately Moondog regretted forgetting that overchoice was a thing that existed. Faced with the possibility of being anything, most ponies chose to be nothing. Meadow was no different. Moondog could almost see the smoke coming from her ears as she tried to choose which out of infinity choices was the best. “I dunno,” she said eventually.

“It doesn’t need to be much. Just pick something that’s not you.”

Meadow pawed at the lack of ground. “I dunno. …Pegasus.”

“Pegasus.” Moondog nodded. “Good. So, close your eyes…”

“Close my eyes,” whispered Meadow, doing so.

“Breathe in…”

“In.”

“Breathe out…”

“And out.”

“Empty your mind…”

“Empty your mind.”

“No, your mind…”

“My mind.”

“Give yourself wings…”

“Wings.” As Meadow said that, a pair of wings bloomed from her body.

Moondog grinned to itself. “And, finally, open your eyes.”

“Open your-” Meadow’s eyes snapped open and she looked over her shoulder. She spread her wings wide and flapped them once. “Oh, Celestia, this so awesome! I can’t- Wait a minute.” She turned back to Moondog. “I- I didn’t do anything!”

“Obviously, you did,” said Moondog, pointing at Meadow’s wings.

“But-” Meadow turned back to her wings and flapped them again. “But then I should get rid of them if I-” She squeaked as her wings dissolved into glimmers of golden dust.

“That’s half the trick of it,” said Moondog. “Dreams don’t really work if you try to explain them. If I gave you some mumbo-jumbo about holding an image of your desire in your mind or something like that, it probably wouldn’t work. But when I just tell you to do it, you forget that this is a dream and, well, do it.”

“Huh.” Meadow looked at her sides. Once again, a set of wings blossomed outward, as smoothly as if they were emerging from water. She flapped them, and the feathers fell away to reveal the leathery wings of a batpony, as supple as the real thing. She examined her tail and flicked it; a rainbow of colors cascaded across it like a wave. “Cooooooool,” she whispered. Her grin was wide enough to swallow a watermelon. “But if working with dreams is this easy-” Her coat gained a metallic sheen. “-how come you and Luna are pretty much the only ponies who can do it?”

“Context. Right now, you’re working in your dreams in your mind. Everything in here is just an extension of your will. Doing it in somepony else’s dreams, where the mind might not want to behave? That’s where things get tricky.” Moondog sat down and spread its wings. “Come on. Try to change me.”

If Moondog was being honest with itself, the reactions of ponies realizing just what they could do in dreams could get a bit repetitious. Meadow was sent reeling yet again. “Change you? Like- turn you into something else?” She rocked back and forth on her hooves, like she wasn’t sure whether to take a step forward or back. “But what if I hurt you, or- do something wrong, or- get you stuck between two shapes, or-”

But Moondog just laughed. It was a strange line ponies walked in lucidity, apparently half fully aware that they were in a dream, half forgetting that dreams weren’t reality. “Hurt? Kid-”

“Don’t call me ‘kid’!” bristled Meadow.

“-if I don’t change shape once every half an hour, it’s a slow night. Being half one thing and half another thing happens all the time, in all the fractional combinations you can think of, including the impossible ones. Seriously, you can’t hurt me. C’mon.” Moondog flexed its wings and grinned as punchably as possible. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Meadow chewed on her lip. She looked away for a moment. “Okay, um… I’m… sorry if this… does anything bad or… anything.” She raised a hoof, hesitated, then closed her eyes and put that hoof on Moondog’s chest.

The only times Moondog had had dream magic worked on it before, Mom had been the mage, so those moments really didn’t count. Now, it felt a tiny tingle where Meadow was touching its chest, like its body was trying to change without Moondog initiating the change. It was, if Moondog was being honest with itself, more than a little creepy; at least with Mom, everything happened so quickly and smoothly it was over before you knew it. And considering so many ponies’ nightmares had them not being in control of themselves… Hmm.

catalog();

But although Moondog stayed as hooves-off as it possibly could, Meadow’s efforts didn’t do anything. The tingle never grew into anything more than a tingle. It was always on the cusp of change, never actually changing. Meadow clenched her eyes tight and gritted her teeth (which meant she was trying too hard, but it’d be a learning experience). When she finally stepped back, panting, Moondog was utterly unchanged.

“See?” said Moondog, flaring its wings. “This me-” A line ran up and down its body, like it was being scanned. “-is part of my own little private mental dominion. It’s biased towards me. So it takes you a lot of work to change me, but I can change me just like-”

self.setAppearance(dreamer.getDefaultAppearance());

Moondog disintegrated into a copy of Meadow. “-that,” it said with a stomp.

“Okay, but-” Then Meadow’s mind caught up with her and she squeaked. She tilted her head. “I don’t care if this is a dream, looking at myself like this is really freaky,” she said.

“So don’t be yourself, obviously,” Moondog huffed. “Here.”

dreamer.setAppearance(self.getDefaultAppearance());

Before Meadow could respond, it yanked on her mane. As she stumbled forward, her entire body came apart at invisible seams like cloth, exposing Moondog’s body beneath. Already off-balance and suddenly over a foot taller, Meadow’s knees started shaking. She spread her legs wide and took long breaths. “Don’t do that!” she squeaked.

“Dreams can change on a whim. Literally.” Moondog shrugged. “You’ll need to learn to react to quick changes sooner or later. So why not start now?” That, and seeing ponies’ shock was kinda funny every now and then.

But Meadow wasn’t that gullible. She squinted at Moondog like the cookie jar had gone empty the last time she’d seen it as she slowly pulled her legs back under her. Once she was used to her significantly longer limbs, she turned her leg over and over, staring into the stars painted across it. “Why’s your coat so weird?” she asked. “And how come you turning me into- you is so… easy?”

“I’m just good at dream magic,” Moondog said. It waved a hoof, sparks trailing from its tip. “I can push harder than your subconscious can push back.”

“Oh. Huh.” Meadow closed her eyes and rippled back into her normal shape. Moondog obliged her by slipping back into its normal shape. Meadow looked at her hoof and split it into a griffon’s claws.

“See? Told you it was easy.”

“Yeah.” Meadow turned her claws over. “So now what? Are you gonna teach me how to make stuff?”

Moondog shook its head. “Not tonight. I’ve kinda got a job, y’know, and I can’t stay away from it too long. I’ll be back tomorrow. But if you want to learn how to lucid dream and try stuff out on your own, here’re some tips to start off with…”

Meadow hadn’t mastered lucidity when Moondog stopped by again. She hadn’t journeymared it, either. Or apprenticed it. Or even noviced it. Moondog wasn’t that surprised; Mom had said that it could take ponies months to fully learn it. But Meadow’s dreams were just different enough, in those subtle ways most ponies wouldn’t notice, that Moondog knew she was on the right path, or at least its trailhead.

Moondog was clearing the dream away when Meadow asked, “So do you do this a lot? Teaching dream magic, I mean.”

ponder();

Moondog bit its lip as it swept the dream that had been beneath a carpet of space. “You want the truth? Mom told me that doing this is actually kinda risky,” it said. “You might start hating the real world ’cause it’s not the place where you can do literally anything. I haven’t taught anypony else dream magic. But, sorry to bring this up, but I figured that you already knew the value of the real world better than most ponies because of-” Moondog pulled at an invisible collar around its neck. “-ehm, reasons.”

Meadow laughed nervously. “That’s one way to put it.”

“So I already knew you wouldn’t lose yourself in escapism. Which makes you wise beyond your years and more mature than a lot of adults! That’s a plus, right?”

This time, Meadow’s laugh was much more natural. “Yeah.”

“Now, tonight you’re gonna learn how to lean against stuff that isn’t there.”

Meadow’s grin slipped off her face. She blinked and cocked her head. One ear went flat against her head. “Seriously,” she said flatly. “Invisible walls? That’s it? It’s- Last night I was shapeshifting, and now…”

Moondog shrugged. “Making nonexistent surfaces is the step between shaping yourself and shaping not-yourself. You can still feel what you’re doing, but it’s not really you you’re changing. Also…” Without flapping its wings, Moondog pulled its legs up and rolled over in the air onto its back. Crossing its rear legs at the ankle and its front legs behind its head, it grinned an upside-down grin at Meadow. “It’s nifty as ----.”

Meadow waved a hoof beneath Moondog. “I dunno. I think shapeshifting’s cooler.” But the sight of Moondog floating like that had sparked something, and it was hard to miss the anticipation building inside her.

“To be honest, it is. It’s just that this is still important.” Twisting its body one way and its head the other, Moondog alighted on the lack of ground again. “Now, all you have to do is not fall.” It smiled, as if that were the obvious thing in the world.

It took skill to nod sarcastically as well as Meadow did. “Uh-huh. And I guess that to fly, you just need to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”

“That’s called orbit, kid, and it works fine.”

“Pretty please stop calling me ‘kid’.” Meadow closed her eyes and reared. She spread her front legs apart for balance. “Could you catch me? I know it won’t hurt, but…”

Moondog’s mane spread itself out behind Meadow like a blanket. “You can still call me ‘doggo’, you know.”

“Nah.” Meadow took a few deep breaths and threw herself backward. It didn’t work and she landed in Moondog’s mane. It caught her like a trampoline, depressing for a second then lightly tossing her up again; she landed on her rear hooves in the same position she’d fallen from.

“Want me to give you the right kinda surface to land on? Just so you know what it feels like?” asked Moondog.

“Not yet,” said Meadow. “I bet I’ll get it this time.”

Twenty-eight tries, four invisible-surface demonstrations, seven partial successes, and two full successes later, Meadow put a shaky hoof on thin air and pushed herself up a step. “This is so weird,” she whispered. She hauled herself up another few steps.

“Get used to it. It’s gonna get weirder.”

self.getHappiness();return: 100.0

Yeah. Meadow was doing nicely.

After she’d gone up the equivalent of a story, Meadow closed her eyes and took one more step forward. Rather than going up, she toppled forward, like she’d stepped off a platform. Right before she hit the lack of ground, she stopped in the air, landing on her back. Her eyes snapped open in near-panic, but her breathing soon slowed back to normal. “Whoa,” she said. “I…” She giggled, the kind of giggle that’s the only natural reaction when you’re giddy. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“I can. You’re really taking to this.”

Meadow lay sprawled in empty space like it was an overstuffed bed, laughing contentedly. “Oh, wow. This- thing is so soft.”

“Of course it is. You know how nothing’s softer than a cloud?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, what are you relaxing on now?”

“Noth-” Meadow closed her mouth almost as fast as she’d opened it and fixed Moondog with a glare. “There’s a mistake in there somewhere, but I don’t know what.”

“The fallacy of four terms!” Moondog said cheerfully. “I’ll spare you the formal-logic lecture and just say that ‘nothing’ is referring to two different things-”

“Why?”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

Moondog hit itself on the head several times; a few sizzling sparks flew out of its ear. “Why what?”

Meadow managed to roll onto her stomach. “Why’re you skipping the lecture?”

“Be- cause…” Moondog tilted its head. “You want to hear about formal logic?”

“Sure. Why not?” Meadow shrugged.

Huh. Who would’ve guessed? “Well, okay. We’ll need to start from the beginning. A syllogism is a type of formal logical argument-” Moondog stopped talking and waited for a response from Meadow.

Which turned out to be a tiny scowl and a, “Keep going…”

“A syllogism is… You know those logic statements that go, ‘if p, then q’? Well, a syllogism is when you take another one, like ‘if q then r’, and…”

“…which is called a Celarent argument. And when-”

Meadow boggled. “Do all logical arguments have stupid names?”

“The syllogisms do.”

“And ponies get paid to study this?!”

“Yep.”

“Daaaaaaaang…”

Meadow’s dreams were growing more and more lucid, requiring less and less help from Moondog to fully pull her into the dream realm. Very nice.

“And tonight,” said Moondog, “we get to the hardest part of basic dream magic: environmental manipulation. This is probably what most ponies think of when they think of dream magic, and with good reason-”

settleDream(MOOD.Grandiose);

Moondog flared its wings with such force as to blow a shockwave out. The dream disintegrated; Moondog and Meadow were left standing in the spotlights of a stadium, the crowd roaring down at them, Meadow’s shocked face decorating the jumbotron. “-it’s the most dramatic,” finished Moondog.

self.setStatus(SMUG.Somewhat);

Meadow swallowed. “I don’t have to make this, do I?” she squeaked.

“Ha! No, no, you’ll be starting small.” The stadium vanished into the usual white void. “Think of something. Anything.”

“Anything?” You could almost see Meadow’s brain begin to shut down. “Uh…”

Stupid overchoice. “A coffee table! Good thing. Simple. Visualize a coffee table. Any coffee table.”

After staring at Moondog for a moment, Meadow closed her eyes. “Okay…”

“Remember the feeling of giving yourself wings? Making claws? Do that, but turn nothing into the table.”

“Okay.” Meadow gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes as tightly shut as possible.

“You’re trying too hard,” Moondog said with a wince. “Just let it flow out of you. Smooth. Easy. Don’t push.”

“Easy,” Meadow said to herself. “Easy.” She took long, deep breaths.

Nothing happened. Not even the slightest wrinkle in the fabric of the dream. Meadow cracked an eye open. “Did I do it?” She looked around. “Nope.” She closed her eye. “Okay. Again. Easy.”

But it didn’t work. Time and again, Meadow tried to make a coffee table; time and again, the coffee table obstinately failed to be made. When her eyes snapped open for the twentieth or so time, she said, “I don’t get it! I’m doing everything you say, but nothing’s happening!” She waved a hoof through thin air as if the table had been made and was just invisible.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Moondog, waving a wing dismissively. “It’s a bit tricky to get the hang of. You’ll figure it out sooner or later. Wanna take a break for a sec?”

Second night.

“C’mon, give it another shot. I bet you’re getting there.”

“But…” Meadow groaned. “I don’t feel like I’m doing anything. How do you do it?”

“That’s… Hmm.” Dream magic had been Moondog’s existence since Luna had first started making it, so that was a trickier question than it seemed. It was like asking a pony, “How do you walk?” Maybe being a teacher for oneiroturgy wasn’t the best idea.

improvise();

“It’s all about willing what you want into being. It’s kind of abstract, but remember what it felt like when you were shapeshifting? Kinda like that.”

“Okay…”

“C’mon. Don’t give up now. You got this.”

Third night.

“Maybe a coffee table’s too complicated. There are lots of things out there that could be defined as a ‘coffee table’. How about a cube? Black. This big.”

“A… Just a cube?”

“You need to start somewhere, don’tcha?”

“I guess.”

Fourth night.

Even cubes were proving too difficult. Meadow was sitting on her rump, sulking at the lack of ground, as Moondog paced back and forth, trying to keep its anxiety down. What was she doing wrong? What was it doing wrong? “Okay, um,” it said, “let’s, let’s try this again.”

“Just like every other night, right?” mumbled Meadow. “You know, insanity is doing the same-”

“Except that this time will be different.” But Meadow looked as convinced as Moondog felt.

Dream magic wasn’t a science, like thaumic magic. Dream magic was an art. That is, it relied a lot on feeling and intuition, there were a lot of ways to do it properly, there were hugely more ways to almost do it properly but fail to stick it, and it was hard to say what somepony was doing wrong if they fell into that almost. Moondog didn’t have a clue what Meadow was doing wrong, and so couldn’t correct her. But it felt that she was almost there. She’d forget all about this funk once she was out of it. She just needed a push. “Look, Roam wasn’t built in a day. If you keep trying-”

“It’s not that easy!” yelled Meadow. “You say ‘keep trying’, but I just can’t do it. I don’t even know what I’m trying to do! Everything else just happened. I…” She folded her ears back and her head drooped. “I’m a failure.”

“Hey,” said Moondog softly. It put the tip of its wing under Meadow’s chin and delicately lifted her face up until they were eye-to-eye. “You wanna know something?”

“Yeah?” said Meadow hopefully.

Moondog’s voice was bright as it said, “You are absolutely a failure.”

Scowling, Meadow shoved Moondog’s wing down and turned away. “Gee, thanks,” she mumbled.

“But!” said Moondog, flowing around to stand in front of Meadow again. “You’re still one of the most skilled ponies in dream magic in all of Equestria. Because failing means you tried. Look-”

makeDataTable();

Moondog peeled away a sheet of space, revealing a chart hanging in the air. Each ranked row had a picture of a pony, their name, and a percentage. (The vast, vast majority of them were placeholders to get the point across, but Meadow didn’t need to know that.) Right at the top was Mom, with a shining gold 100%. Moondog itself was below her with a 99.9999999999725%. The numbers dropped precipitously after that, falling to less than 10 within thirty ranks. “If you compare ponies’ skills in dream magic with Mom’s, you’re-” The chart scrolled up rapidly, rocketing off into the lack of sky. “-right here.” Moondog pointed a certain row: 18131: Moonlit Meadow — 0.3792%.

“Great. I’m number eighteen thousand.” Meadow rolled her eyes. “So skilled.”

“Number eighteen thousand-” Moondog reared, spreading its legs and wings wide. “-in a nation of millions. Seriously, think about it. You’re not just in the ninety-ninth percentile, you’re in the ninety-nine point ninth percentile.”

“What’s a percentile?”

“You’re better at dream magic than ninety-nine point nine percent of ponies. And you’ve barely started! You can’t stop now, just because it’s hard!”

“But I barely got anywhere yesterday! I was shapeshifting in seconds the first day, and now I- This should be easy! And-” Meadow stepped back and pointed way, way, way, way up. “Look at how good you are! I’ll never get close!”

destroy(dataTable);

Moondog ripped the chart from the air and, in spite of its length, rolled it up within seconds. “So what?” It squished the scroll into nothing. “I’m a construct purpose-built to use dream magic. Of course I’m great at it. I’d be a pretty terrible person if I wasn’t. Besides, just because you can’t be the best at something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. And I know this is dream magic, but you’re not gonna learn it overnight, wah wah waaah. Even I didn’t.”

“I- I know that. But I don’t know if I can make myself keep going.” Meadow stared at her hooves. “I don’t wanna- Look, I mean, thanks for the lessons, they’re cool, but- This isn’t something I’ve always wanted to do. You- just- popped in a few days ago and asked if I wanted to do it. It- You- I-” She clamped her mouth shut.

“C’mon,” said Moondog soothingly. “I won’t be offended.”

“I only started learning dream magic because- you asked me,” whispered Meadow. “What was I supposed to do, say ‘no’?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t’ve minded.” Of course, making that clear from the start would’ve been nice.

“But- And then it was cool, but now it’s hard again, so- why keep going? I don’t wanna have to do homework while I sleep!”

Moondog almost went off on a long tangent about the importance and benefits of keeping the mind active even if the body was resting, but Mom had said ponies didn’t like being lectured in their dreams (and although she never said so, Moondog suspected she’d learned that from experience). Instead, it took a different tack and said, “Well, you don’t have to do it for me, but you wanna be better at something than Princess Celestia?”

You would’ve thought Meadow had been stuck with a cattle prod, she looked up so fast. “What?” she whispered. “That’s- But- She’s Princess Celestia!”

spill(cellySecret[3]);

“And she’s Princess of the Day, not the Night.” Moondog sat down next to Meadow and draped a wing over her withers. “What’s said in the dream realm stays in the dream realm, but… Aunt Celly’s kinda crap when it comes to dream magic. It’s just not really her thing, so she’s never worked at it. But you?” It lightly poked Meadow in the chest. “You’re still trying to get better. If you keep at it, I bet you’ll be twice as good as her before the year is up. At least.”

But Meadow wasn’t that receptive to the pep talk. She squinted up at Moondog suspiciously. “You’re just saying that to get me to keep practicing, aren’t you?”

It was kind of amazing, how far ponies could go to justify themselves and their actions. Moondog wasn’t making stuff up or even exaggerating. One last try, in a bit of an unorthodox direction. Moondog patted Meadow on the shoulder. “No, but I get it.” Not really. Why leave something incomplete? “If you don’t want to keep going, okay. I won’t push you. But if you do, I’ll be here as long as I have the time, no matter how often you screw everything up.”

--Error; PhrasingException e

But Meadow didn’t even notice the faux pas. She looked down as if she was ashamed. “I…” She ran a hoof through her mane and mumbled, “I don’t know. It’s… I…”

“Do you just want a day to think about it? Or two or three or more?” Mom had said that ponies often needed to step away from a problem if it was getting them angry and frustrated, then come back to it later with a clear head. Sometimes their mind could come up with a solution after a tiny bit of prodding, but sometimes their dreams needed to be as far from it as possible (which meant no hurling it into the sun). And Moondog was willing to bet that having the second-greatest dream mage of all time waiting on your decision wasn’t the best environment for choosing to take up dream magic or not.

“Yeah,” Meadow said, obviously relieved. “That’d be, that’d be great. Could you… Could I have a week?”

“A week’s fine. I’ll leave you to it.”

Waiting was one of the weirdest things Moondog had ever experienced. It had been made with a purpose, a goal, an objective. And when it needed to wait, the only thing it could do to fulfill that purpose was to do nothing. But that came with depending on other people, and Moondog had only ever depended on somepony else (not counting Mom) when it was first pulled out of the dream realm, which was hardly normal. Still, it’d told Meadow it’d wait. So it waited.

Out of pure curiosity, it blipped into her dreams two of the nights it was waiting, but never let her notice. Her dreams those nights weren’t that lucid, so she wasn’t trying to work on her own. Moondog was fine with that; she had every right to not lucid dream every night, and not taking advantage of dream-shapeshifting meant she still had a healthy reality/dreaming balance. Good.

And then, the night before Meadow was going to give her answer, Moondog had a brainstorm. In trying to teach Meadow about manipulating environments, it’d been doing things completely wrong. No wonder she was having difficulties. It almost made Moondog burst into her dream early, apologize profusely, and beg her to keep trying. But if Meadow was going to quit, Moondog would let her quit.

“I don’t wanna quit just yet.”

Phew.

Moondog had returned to Meadow’s dream all a-jitter, but nearly (literally) exploded with glee upon hearing her response, even though her voice wasn’t that optimistic, even though she continued, “I might give up if I can’t do anything tonight, but… just one more try.”

“Good, because I royally screwed up.” Moondog pulled its mane forward and ran both its hooves through it, like it was braiding it. “I was asking you to change the world-”

--Error; PhrasingException e

“-I mean, change as in- alter, not…” Moondog shook its head. “YouknowwhatImean! But because I kept blanking out the dream, you didn’t have a world to change. I was basically asking you to make everything from scratch, and, I mean, well, yeah. That’s my bad.” It smiled nervously. It suspected it’d be blushing if it’d had any blood. “Um. Sorry.”

Meadow’s jaw went slightly slack. She pointed at Moondog. “You…” She put her hoof on her chest. “Me… This… Oh, Celestia.” She put her head in her hooves, but she was laughing. “Wow. Just… hehe… wow.”

“So for tonight, we’re gonna work in this library.”

“We’re in a library?” Meadow looked up. They were sitting at a table in a small, old library, bookshelves lining the walls, a fire crackling away merrily. “When did that happen?”

self.addToAppearance(new Wristwatch());

“About, oh…” Moondog glanced at its fetlock. “Fifty-five seconds ago.” It plucked a book with a red cover from the wall with its mane and set it on the table in front of Meadow. “We’ll start small again. Actual small. Turn the cover of this book blue.”

Meadow looked at Moondog, then at the book. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I can do this.” Staring at the book, she tilted her head one way. Then the other. She blinked a few times. She put a hoof on the book.

And after a second, it turned blue.

It was uneven, looking more like someone had spilled a paint bucket over it than actually being properly colored. The color was haphazardly tinted, making awkward “patterns” on the cover. In parts, it was a bit purplish, like the red was still trying to break through.

None of which changed the fact that it had turned blue.

Meadow blinked. “That…” She picked up the book and turned it over. Blue all around. “That was easy,” she said.

“Like I said, I screwed up. It’s not that hard when you’re starting with a base. Turn it purple, now.”

And so it was. Even better, the purple was cleaner than the blue had been.

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!” Meadow slouched in her chair, hung her head over the back, and laughed in relief. “If I’d known it was gonna be this easy…”

“I said I screwed up already,” scowled Moondog. “Anyway, changing the size of something isn’t that different than…”

It wasn’t long before Meadow had redecorated a good-sized chunk of the library. It wouldn’t hold together under close scrutiny, but neither one of the pair cared. Meadow looked like she was getting high on life as she dragged a hoof across the wallpaper, changing its color in her wake, while Moondog just sat back and smiled. “And one of the neat things about patterns is that, since you know what they’re supposed to look like, your subconscious will fill in the gaps for you. That’s why your clouds look so puffy.”

“Uh-huh.” Meadow flicked her hoof. The image of a blue sky streaked across the wall. “Awesome. So if I can change things besides me, now…” Meadow turned to stare at Moondog, chewing on her lip. “And… you’re…”

It wasn’t that hard to guess what she was thinking. Moondog spread its wings. “Go ahead. Hit me. You got this.”

“Yeah,” Meadow said to herself. “I think I do.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and put a hoof on Moondog’s chest.

A wave of crude magic rushed through Moondog and its body began twisting.

--Error; OutsideInterferenceException ee.ignore();run();

The feeling of being sculpted by someone else (who wasn’t Mom) was… alien, to say the least. Not painful, but teetering on the brink of skin-crawlingly unpleasant. It wasn’t much; if Moondog had been resisting, it could’ve thrown the effort off immediately. But it waited and let it happen. If Meadow could do it-

Meadow pulled her hoof away and stared. “Oh, Celestia,” she whispered, covering her mouth. “Oh, Celestia, I did it.” She bounced on her hooves, grinning like a little filly presented with candy. “I did it!” Laughing, she pumped a hoof in the air and began prancing around.

Moondog didn’t need to look to know that she had. It was a griffon, with fur and feathers as shiny and black as obsidian. It spread its wings majestically, half to let Meadow admire her handiwork, half to be sure it still had control over itself (it did). “Nice,” it said as it examined its wings. They were big, bigger than most griffons’, and very smooth and muscular. “Very nice, very nice indeed. No doubt, no doubt, cool cool cool cool.” It stretched to see what it felt like; one way or another, the body Meadow had constructed felt entirely natural. Maybe that came with itself being a blob of mental magic and technically not having a body to begin with, but Moondog gave Meadow the benefit of the doubt. “You do a lot of stuff with griffons,” it observed.

Meadow froze in her prancing as if transfixed. “Well, I-” She blinked and looked away. “I just think- griffons are- cool,” she said quietly.

“Hey, I ain’t judging.”

self.setAppearance(ALL.Default);

Moondog shook its coat off like so much coal dust without any difficulty. “Congrats, by the way. You’re now a better dream mage than Princess Celestia herself.”

“I am?” Meadow perked up again. “Yes! Eat it, princess!”

“Of course, you’ve still got a lot to learn,” said Moondog, fighting the urge to poof a disapproving copy of Aunt Celly into existence (there was no way Meadow would fall for it). “If you want to keep-”

“Well, now that I can do something more, yeah! I wanna keep going! Just- not every night, okay? Like, once a week?”

“That’s fine. Especially since we’re getting into the trickier stuff now, so you’ll need to do some actual work, like-”

Meadow blanched. “Like homework?”

“No, not like homework. More like you can’t do everything instinctually now. We’ll have-”

settleDream(MOOD.Tense);

Thunder boomed outside, casting Moondog into shadow. “-lectures. Where you need to pay attention.” Its smile was fanged. “And work on your technique.”

“Oh boy,” whispered Meadow.

“But tonight, we’re still small. You wanna learn dream telekinesis? Or how to bring something to life?”

“So when’re you gonna teach me how to get into other ponies’ dreams?”

“Heh. That is a royal privilege. Not until you become an oneiroturgy intern.”

“…So you’re saying it’s possible?”

“In your dreams, maybe.”

“Boooooo. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too long.”

Source Incantations: Debugging

When she was younger, Twilight had bemoaned weekends. Why did they have to stick two solid days of not-studying in between every blissful five days of studying? But now that she was Headmare of the School of Friendship, she understood: weekends weren’t for the students. They were for the teachers.

It was like clockwork: every week, no matter how much she worked, little issues kept slowly accumulating on Twilight’s desk, only to be flushed out on the weekend. Then she could spend the rest of the weekend doing something relaxing, like brushing up on quantum chromodynamics. Once those two days were over, back to the old grind. As satisfying as educating Equestria and beyond on friendship was, she needed a break every now and then, so long as “now and then” meant “five days”.

This Saturday had been light on work, and Twilight had been able to get it all polished off before noon. After swinging by the front door to pick up her mail, she moseyed over to the dining room to get something, anything, to eat for lunch. Starlight was already there, finishing off a peanut butter sandwich. Seeing Twilight with the mail, she asked, “Anything interesting today?”

“Maybe.” Twilight sifted through the mail, tossing each item into one of two piles or an incinerator spell. “Bill…” Pile 1. “Bill… Personal…” Pile 2. “Junk…” Fwoosh. “Junk… Petition… Personal… Personal — oh, from Princess Luna!… Junk… Bill… Junk. Now, then…” She grabbed the letter she’d said was from Luna, a pristine scroll with an embossed seal of a crescent moon.

“Think it’s important?” Starlight asked.

“Probably not. Otherwise, she’d have sent it through Spike.” Twilight unrolled the scroll and began reading.

Ten seconds later, her high-pitched squeal of glee had caused serious damage to the castle’s crystalline structure.

“So what’d it say?” Starlight asked once they’d repaired all the chalices.

“Remember Moondog?” Twilight asked. “Luna — her and Moondog both, actually — they want to know if we’d like to study it, find out what makes it tick. It’d be a great learning experience and would further our knowledge in golemancy, in addition to-”

“You don’t need to justify it to me,” Starlight said, “I know you’re just looking for an excuse to look into new magic.”

“Yes yes yes yes yes!” Twilight squealed shamelessly. “Would you like to help? I know you two weren’t on the greatest of terms last time, but-”

“We’ve made up,” said Starlight. “Mostly. I’d be happy to help, and if Moondog doesn’t want me around, I can leave.”

“Great! I was thinking maybe we should have at least one other pony to bounce ideas off of.”

“Star Swirl, right?”

Twilight shook her head like her neck had rusted and it was taking an effort. When her next word came out, it was beyond strained. “Nnnnnnno.” She gasped. “He’s smart, but he’s still not completely up-to-date on modern magic. We’d spend more time explaining stuff to him than doing any learning of our own.” She looked up and tapped her chin. “How about Sunburst? He’s smart.”

“This sounds like it’d be right up his alley,” Starlight said, nodding. “Let’s write him a letter.”

Sunburst,

As you are probably aware, in recent years, Princess Luna has designed an arcane construct known as Moondog to assist her in protecting the dream realm. Due to circumstances outside of her control, she lacks complete knowledge of its inner workings, and so has personally extended an offer for me to study it more in-depth than she has time for. Starlight is already assisting me, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in participating as well.

Twilight Sparkle

Twilight,

Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I’m too wrapped up in my own studies and work to take you up on it. Flurry Heart is going through a “phase” and Cadance and Shining need all the help they can get.

Sunburst

“Three days,” Twilight grumbled. “Three days of waiting, just for that.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” said Starlight. “You’re making it sound too official and boring. Here.”

Sunburst,

How’d you like to study an oneiroturgic golem with me and Twilight? Princess Luna will sponsor it.

Starlight

Starlight,

WOULD I?

Sunburst

P.S. That’s a yes. Could you send me the details?

Starlight smirked at Twilight. “See? Easy peasy.”

“Grumble grumble stupid grumble,” muttered Twilight. “You write a letter to him. I’ll respond to Luna and we can get this set up.”

Normally, when she was anticipating something, Twilight had a hard time falling asleep the night before. Okay, no problem. She’d be a bit tired the next day, but that’d be offset by her own excitement. More of a problem when falling asleep was required for what she was anticipating.

Luna had said Moondog would gather them all into a shared dream for the first stage of the study. Twilight and Starlight had brushed up on what little dream magic they remembered, and now the only thing left to do was fall asleep, which was proving annoyingly difficult. Twilight’s heart was racing, new thoughts danced through her head every few seconds, she’d done that thing where you almost fall asleep only to twitch like you’re falling and wake back up again (and done it twice!), and she was generally too excited to be sleepy.

She needed a glass of warm milk. Warm chocolate milk. (She was a princess! She was allowed to indulge!) Twilight loped out of bed, staggered up to the dining room, and squinted into the fridge, looking for chocolate milk. Sadly, no matter how much she looked, Twilight couldn’t find it behind the dimensional portal. That was really beginning to smell; shouldn’t they get rid of it? Tomorrow. Twilight closed the door and turned to head back-

…Waaaaiiiit…

Twilight ran back to the fridge and pulled it open. Yep. Dimensional portal, and after all the fridges in Ponyville had been portal-proofed. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep at some point and was dreaming of her-

Moondog’s head popped out. “Hey,” it said. “Sorry, listen, I’m still new at the whole ‘bring ponies into each other’s dreams’ thing, so I’m just stabilizing your dream for a sec to make it easier. Be back in, I dunno, like, a minute?” It pulled its head back in.

“Wait!” yelled Twilight. “I-” She reached into the portal, then promptly yanked her leg back out as a feeling of falling apart raced up it. She examined her hoof. For a moment, it looked like several different hooves out of phase with each other, but it slowly returned to normal even as she watched. She rubbed it. It felt normal, or at least as normal as something could feel in a dream. “Mental decoherence?” she speculated. “Being in the collective unconscious without a sufficient self-image causes your dream projection to lose focus until it can’t sustain itself anymore and you wake up.” Luna had mentioned something like that. Hmm.

“…I wonder if it does that every time.” In went the hoof.

“And so,” said Flurry Heart, “in gratitude for services to our country and city, for protecting us in times of trouble, for helping me grow in confidence and in magic, and for being ridiculously good-looking, I present this key to the city to…”

Sunburst held his breath. Flurry Heart was going to pick him. She had to. He was the only possible candidate.

“-the Crystal Heart!” Flurry Heart put the key on top of the tuxedo-clad artifact next to her. The crowd applauded thunderously as the key slid off.

Sunburst breathed a sigh of relief at his mistake. For a second, he was worried that he was going to have to go in front of a crowd and do some public speaking (the horror).

“OI!” somepony yelled. “Get out of the way! Git!” Ponies flew this way and that as something plowed through the crowd. When the crowd finally parted, an alicorn-shaped hole into the night sky was standing in front of him, barely larger than himself. “Hola, amigo.” The alicorn bowed. “Name’s Moondog, and you’re going to study me, yeah? I’m here to take you into Twilight’s dream.”

Immediately, the sounds of everything faded to nothing as Sunburst stared at Moondog. He’d long wished for fully cognizant automata, and now one was standing in front of him. And it was asking him to study it. It was a dream come true while somehow still being a dream that existed only in his head. When he spoke, it felt like his tongue had been tied into knots. “And you, you’re the, uh, golem? Tulpa? Thing?”

Moondog tapped its chin and made exaggerated hmms. “Let me check.” It pulled open its chest to reveal an intricate network of mana channels twisting around and through each other. “Yep. Pretty sure that’s me.”

Sunburst’s mind reengaged. “Holy Heisenbuck,” he gasped, “this, this is incredible! Not just a self-aware golem, but a fully independent thoughtform!” He leaned in, staring at the stars in Moondog’s coat. None of the constellations were ones he recognized, but that didn’t really matter. “I wonder if, if Luna being Princess of the Night has something to do with your appearance. And guess what! I can see my house from here!” he joked, pointing at a star.

“Wrong sun.” Moondog handed a magnifying glass to Sunburst. “You wanna look at this one.”

Caught up in the moment, Sunburst took the glass without much thought and examined the sun in question. His laughs died when the glass proved to have a huge magnification value and he saw not just Equus and its moon and its sun, not just its continents, not just Equestria, but- “Mother duck,” he breathed, “I can see my house from here.” For there it was: his house, wizard-capped and all, sitting right in the Crystal Empire. Did it really look that weird from the top?

The door opened and Moondog walked out. It looked up at Sunburst and held up a sign that said, Neat, huh?

Sunburst pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “My mind hurts already,” he mumbled.

“That’s how you know the dream magic’s working,” Moondog said, grinning. “Come on. We’re gonna pick up Starlight next. Interthought portals, go!”

Twilight was still testing the portal as much as she dared when Moondog returned, meaning she punched Moondog in the face. She jumped back, her hooves flying to her mouth. “Oh, geez, I am so sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean-”

“You’re forgiven,” Moondog said, its face reinflating, “but could you scooch aside a little more? Starlight and Sunburst and coming through.”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, sidestepping away.

“That’s good, thanks.” Moondog pulled its way out of the fridge completely, its horn glowing a pale violet. Half a second later, Starlight and Sunburst flopped out after it. Or, to be more precise, Starlight with Sunburst’s colors and Sunburst with Starlight’s colors.

Starlight staggered to her hooves, so dizzy she couldn’t find the floor. “Well, that was a trip,” she said.

“In all senses of the, of the word,” Sunburst added. He rubbed his forehead, only to stop when he saw the color of his leg. He looked between himself and Starlight. “And I’m not sure it’s over yet.”

“Huh. How did that happen?” Moondog pulled Starlight’s and Sunburst’s colors from each other and swapped them. “I’ll have to ask Mom. Anyway, sorry about all that, the tapioca dragon especially.”

“Did you need to come in through the fridge?” asked Twilight.

“Normally, no.” Moondog slammed the fridge door. “But I’m not a tenth as good as Mom at bringing ponies into others’ dreams, and your focus on it provided some extra mental stability for the landing. And I still got their colors mixed up.”

“That makes sense,” said Sunburst, pushing his glasses up his muzzle. “Just, just think about it. This whole… place is, it’s basically an entire world you’re creating through pure will unconsciously, so-”

“Ackshually,” said Moondog, “it’s a subdimension outside of space and time at the nexus of consciousness and matter tethered to your collective essences. Totally different.”

Sunburst opened his mouth, but Starlight covered it with a hoof. “Yep! Totally different!” she said loudly. “So should we get started?”

“Right. So,” said Moondog. From nothing, it yanked down a diagram of itself in the Vitrotvian Mare pose. “Mom wants to know the ins and outs of me. And if that sounds strange because she’s the one who made me, she didn’t plan for me to-” It shook its hoof and a long scroll unrolled across the floor. Reading, it continued, “-be able to talk, be self-aware, be self-determining, make decisions on my own initiative, be able to dive into the deep unconscious, and a whole mess of other things. Obviously something went weird somewhere along the line. In no particular order, she wants to know the source of my self-awareness, my connection to the mind, my connection to the real world, and any possibility of my future development going as loopy as my creation. And you’re the best ponies for the job.”

“Wow.” Starlight gulped. “No pressure or anything, right?”

“Nope!” Moondog said cheerfully. “But really, there isn’t. Mom says she doesn’t want you to stress out too much, so even a picture of you three shrugging your shoulders would be an okay report as long as you tried. In almost those exact words, too. And, um, also…” It took a long breath and flexed its wings slowly. “I know you’re all better at thaumic magic than dream magic,” it said reluctantly. “And ever since Discord rejiggered me, I can freely go in and out of dreams and semi-interact with the physical world, so… I’m willing to go outside if that makes it easier for you to cast.”

“We’ll keep it open, but it should probably be a last resort,” said Twilight. “You were made in the dream realm, you should be studied in the dream realm.” She eyed Starlight and Sunburst. “You two did brush up on dream magic as best you could, right?”

“Of course,” said Starlight.

“Not ‘brush up’ as much as ‘learn for the first time’,” said Sunburst, “but, um, yeah. I did my best.”

“And I can give any of you any help you need,” said Moondog. “Being made of magic does have some perks.”

“Great!” Twilight grinned and rubbed her hooves together. “Let’s get set up.” To see what kind of dream magic she still remembered, she pulled an image into her mind and did her best to push it out into the world. She pointed at an unassuming corner. “Whiteboard!”

And it was so. A whiteboard appeared from nowhere, already stocked with ten colors of ten markers each and several erasers. She giggled and pointed next to it. “Desk.” A desk and papers, quill and ink. Perfect.

“When’s she gonna notice we’re still in her kitchen?” Sunburst whispered.

“Ten seconds after she runs out of paper,” Starlight whispered back.

“In other words, never,” added Moondog. “Make yourselves at home. I can get you anything you need or want.”

Twilight had long desired a chair like this. Just comfortable enough that she could sit on it for hours while she did work or read, yet not so comfortable that she’d risk falling asleep if she leaned back on it while thinking. It swiveled, but when she tested spinning for the heck of it, it quickly bumped to a stop. This was going to be good.

She swiveled around to face Moondog, Starlight, and Sunburst. “So,” she said, “how do we want to tackle this? Do we want to split the load, all work on the same thing, or something else?”

“I’m fine with anything,” said Starlight. She was sitting on nothing Twilight could see, but that nothing looked awfully comfortable.

“I think we should split the load,” said Sunburst. “We’ve got a lot to study and that way, we can work on a lot of things at once without any distractions.” He glanced at Moondog.

“I wasn’t gonna make any distractions anyway!” Moondog protested.

“Dibs on self-awareness,” Twilight said quickly.

“Aww.” Sunburst pouted. “I wanted the self-awareness. Fine. I’ll do what I can to see how its magic works.” He glanced at Starlight. “Unless you want to handle that.”

“No, you can do it,” said Starlight. “I guess that leaves me with mental magic.”

“Alright.” Twilight rubbed her hooves together and her horn started glowing. “I’ve been brushing up on magic analysis spells. They’ll give us Moondog’s structure at varying granularities, which we can then study. Simple.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “And now that you’ve said that, Marephy’s Law is gonna kick in, and it’s not going to be simple. It might be back home, but here in a dream, Spike’s probably going to grow to his adult size in an instant and eat the castle or something.”

“That’s part of the reason I’m sticking around,” said Moondog. “To keep stuff like that from happening and have everything as normal as possible.” It turned to Twilight. “Hit me.”

“Alright. Aaaaand…” The spell felt different, cast in dreams rather than reality. It didn’t require much power and it was slick, like it wanted to be cast. When it hit, Moondog twitched and its coat began slipping through different medical filters: x-ray, infrared, mana scans, blood-vessel mapping, and more. And while the pings the spell returned were strange, they were perfectly comprehensible as dream magic. It’d take a while to write them all down, but Twilight figured there was a shortcut for that.

Starlight and Sunburst both got up in concern, but Moondog didn’t fall down. Once Twilight ended her spell, the changes on Moondog stopped. “Do you feel okay?” Twilight asked, taking a step forward. “I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

“I…” Moondog clapped itself on the chest. “I don’t think so.” It paused. “Yeah, I’m fine.” And then it puked up a scroll.

Twilight seized the (remarkably clean) scroll in her magic before it hit the ground and hurriedly unrolled it. There were the results, just like she’d wanted. They matched up with the pings and came complete with footnotes, diagrams, tables, what have you, formatted just the way she would’ve done it. It was all she could’ve hoped for and more, if only it hadn’t come in such a weird way. “Um, thanks?”

“Not me. Blame your spell. Seriously.” Moondog was wide-eyed and innocent. Very wide-eyed and innocent. Twilight decided to not press the issue.

After giving copies of the scroll to Starlight and Sunburst (“Duplicate! Duplicate! Hee hee…”), Twilight examined her own more closely. The spells on there were advanced, esoteric, counterintuitive, sophisticated, nearly impossible to do. She knew what they did, but she couldn’t cast most of them. She couldn’t cast most of them. She’d have to study for ages to learn how, unlearning everything she knew about thaumic magic in the process. It was the densest, most complicated conglomeration of magic she’d seen in a long time.

It was beautiful.

She wiped away a tear from her eye and yelled, “Alright, ponies! Let’s do some science!”

The scroll Starlight had received was an intimidating mass of dream magic, but after a bit of thought, she knew what most of the spells did. (Not even knew-ish.) She stared at one spell in particular. It was the spell Luna and Moondog used to get into other ponies’ dreams. It was beyond her ability to cast, but it got her thinking. Dreams were a product of the mind. Moondog got into dreams easily. So… “Hey, Moondog?” she called out.

Moondog flapped over. “Yeah?”

“Can you read minds?”

“Not unless you’re thinking something really hard, and even then, only vaguely. So, no, I can’t tell you what anypony’s thinking about you.”

Starlight swatted Moondog. “I didn’t mean for that. I just thought, if you knew how to read my mind, then maybe you could teach me how to read your mind. Just for science.”

“Sorry, but if it was that easy, I’d’ve suggested it already.”

“Just like that?” Starlight asked skeptically.

“Well, sure. For science, dah-dah-dah-DAAAH.” Moondog shrugged. “Besides, I don’t think it’d work outside the dream realm. This place is like 99% inside our heads already, so getting that last 1% wouldn’t change much. Our minds are already interacting a lot.” It glanced at Twilight and muttered, “Like how I’m keeping you and Sunburst sane by keeping Twilight from turning every single wall in this place into a whiteboard.”

“You’d really be okay with giving me access to your head?”

“Not everyone, but you? Twilight? Sunburst? Yeah.” Moondog sat down and spread its wings. “I know you’re all good, smart ponies who wouldn’t abuse it. You’re just not that kind of people. Heck, you’d probably use it for this one time, then never even think about using it again. I trust you, simple as that.”

Starlight blinked and looked down. “Um. Thanks.” It was strange, hearing it that bluntly. But it made her feel nice inside.

“Besides…” Moondog smirked. “I’ve been doing mental magic literally nonstop since the day I was born. What makes you think I couldn’t keep you out if I wanted to?”

Starlight didn’t have an answer to that.

“This isn’t an effort for you, is it?” Sunburst asked the air.

“What isn’t?” the air asked.

Sunburst didn’t flinch. He’d long since gotten used to it. “Keeping us lucid like this.” He gestured around. “Doesn’t it strain you?”

The air puffed into purple smoke, which collapsed into Moondog, wearing the nerdiest glasses imaginable. “Fun fact! Lucid dreaming doesn’t require magic at all,” it said with a slight lisp. “Considering we’re in-”

“-a subdimension outside of yadda yadda, I know,” said Sunburst, slightly exasperated.

“-your mind basically comes here naturally every time you dream,” said Moondog. “We don’t know how it works, but it’s on a different level than-”

Twilight blitzed over to Sunburst and sat next to him, clipboard and quill in her magic, looking at Moondog expectantly. Sunburst scooched a few inches away from her.

Moondog sighed and tossed away its glasses. “Fine. I’ll start over. Lucid dreaming, by itself, doesn’t require magic. It’s just when, absent any stimuli from your conscious, you become more aware of the not-space your unconscious occupies. Mom or I can give you a little kick to make you lucid, pull your mind from Equestria into the dreamscape, but once you are lucid, we don’t need to do anything more. Dream magic itself only comes in when you try to go from one mind to the other. Here…” It fanned a wing around to gesture. “I’m using a little bit of magic to keep you all in one place. Negligible, really.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight’s quill was a blur as she wrote. “You said pulling us from Equestria? Does that matter?”

“I think it might, but I dunno.” Moondog flared its wings. “It’s like… part of you will always exist in Equestria, since that’s where your body is and… and… Look, I don’t know how to explain this,” it said flatly, “it’s just pulling your mind through thoughtspace from the physical world to here. It doesn’t really make sense with physical-space analogies and I’m terrible at explaining things, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight’s quill was moving so fast that in the real world it would’ve caught fire from friction-generated heat. “Something to ask Luna about, then.”

“She doesn’t really get it, either. I know, I asked her.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

Sunburst quickly nudged Twilight in the ribs. “You’re not thinking of changing the course of this project, are you?”

“I… might not be,” Twilight said, not looking either of them in the eye.

Moondog and Sunburst smirked at each other.

“Are you changing that?” asked Twilight.

“Changing what?” asked Moondog.

“That equation right there.” Twilight pointed at a line she was sure had a δ_{m g} in it before, but now had nothing of the sort. Working in dreams was great when it meant she could summon infinite whiteboards out of nowhere and expand her lab in impossible ways instantly, but not so much if it meant her letters didn’t play nice with what they were written on. “I think it keeps changing whenever I look away.”

Moondog squinted at said equation. “Nope. Not doing anything. That’s just the dream.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you keeping us in one dream?”

“If I was struggling with that, you’d see a lot weirder things than just a sentence that wouldn’t hold still.”

Twilight looked at the equation again, then blinked. The δ_{m g} was back. She closed her eyes, then opened them. Gone. Close, open, there. “Okay, really?” she said. “Quit it, brain!” She hit herself on the side of the head.

“Fine,” her brain said. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” It pushed itself out of her ear and rolled away.

“Not my fault,” Moondog said quickly. “Honest. Want me to go get it, or…?”

“No,” mumbled Twilight. “I didn’t need that stupid thing, anyway.” Were the others having as much trouble as her? She trotted over to Starlight’s section. “Are you having trouble with the writing, too?”

Starlight didn’t look up from her own equations. “Ehm. Kinda?” she said. “It’s like… every now and then, I try to write one thing, but I write another, and then when I try to write the second thing, I write the first thing instead. Like my brain is trying to handle two different things at once.” She pushed a piece of scratch paper over. “Here’re the equations, in case you’re want to see them.”

Twilight glanced at what Starlight had written. It wasn’t too complicated, but- “A-ha! You’re here, too, you- fiend!” For there it was in the first equation: δ_{m g}. Twilight held the paper close to her muzzle, glaring at that symbol. “I will find you,” she hissed. “I will find you and I will figure out what’s up with you and I will end you.” Her eyes flicked to the second equation, which matched her second equation. “Or end you. Either one works.”

“The alicorn said to the number,” said Moondog, rolling its eyes.

Twilight took a deep breath, even though being in the dreamscape meant its effect was purely psychological. “It’s a very important number in a very important equation. If that particular equation isn’t right, any conclusions drawn from it won’t be right. And since we’re studying you, that’s kind of a big deal. And, no, we can’t just skip it, because what if that equation is the one that leads us to your sapience? So, in reality, ending one of them is actually very important.”

“What she said,” added Starlight. “She can be a bit melodramatic, but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”

“…Ah,” said Moondog. “Rrrrright.” It shuffled its hooves and looked away. “You, um, want my help in tracking down what makes the bad equation appear?”

“Please.”

Twilight glared at her own equation again. The δ_{m g} was there. Moondog put a hoof right next to the equation and nodded at Twilight. She nodded back, closed her eyes, then opened them again. Gone.

“Okay, that’s weird,” said Moondog. “They’re… I dunno, layered on top of each other. It’s like you wrote them both, but you’re only seeing one at a time.”

“But then, how-”

From his little corner of the room, Sunburst yelled, “Got it!” He galloped over and slid to a stop in front of the whiteboard. “At least I think I do,” he said. “You know how, um, things can change in dreams when you’re not looking?”

“Things can change in dreams when you are looking,” said Twilight.

Sunburst turned red. Completely. “Um. Right. But, but not everything! See, some forms of dream magic, they’re locked down when we’re observing them. They can’t change. And Luna, I think she put some of those into Moondog, to make it more adaptable. It’s technically a lot of different spells at once, but just one when we’re looking at it.” His voice started speeding up and he made all sorts of wild gestures. “But the detection spell you got the equations from is behaving based on dream logic, so you got all the spells at once, and even though you didn’t recognize it like that, your subconscious did. So to keep with reality, that line is in a superposition of equations, collapsing into one whenever one of us observes it.”

Twilight blinked as she grasped the full implications. “…You’re saying I’m performing quantum magic by accident?”

“Dreeeeaaaams,” said Moondog, waving its hooves mysteriously. It grinned, but its heart wasn’t really in it, and not because it didn’t have a physical heart.

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work,” said Twilight. She flicked her pen across the room. “Sorry, Moondog, but we’ll have to take up that offer for external study.”

“Booger. Ah, well.”

Twilight started pacing. “But that might mess things up with the schedule, because if Starlight and I are in Ponyville and Sunburst’s in the Crystal Empire-”

“I can come!” said Sunburst. “Or, um, go? I mean, I can travel to Ponyville! In two days, even! Just, just give me time to pack, and-”

“Didn’t you say you were busy?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “What about Flurry Heart and her phase?”

“So,” Shining Armor said, “here’s a list of the things we need fireproofed.”

The contractor’s eyebrow went up his forehead as his eyes went down the list. “Half of these are crystalline things that can’t catch fire.”

“I know.” Shining grinned mirthlessly. “And yet she set them on fire anyway.”

“She’s fine,” said Sunburst. “Cadance and Shining can handle it for a few days. Besides, this is important!”

“Ooookay,” Twilight said skeptically. “In that case, then, meet at the castle in two days? The day after the day following tonight, I mean.”

“Sure,” said Sunburst. “I’ll be there… definitely by the evening. Probably earlier. I do not want to miss this!”

“Then if we’re done here,” said Moondog, “why don’t I take you two back so you can spend the rest of the night in peace?” It pulled open the fridge, the portal still sitting there.

“Well, um,” said Starlight, awkwardly shuffling her hooves and flicking her ears, “is there any chance I could, um, pick up where I, y’know… left off?”

“No promises,” said Moondog, “but I’ll do my darndest.”

“Why?” asked Twilight. “What were you dreaming of?”

“That’s private,” Starlight and Moondog said in unison. They looked at each other. “ANYWAY!” said Moondog. “One by one this time.” It wrapped hoof around Starlight’s neck and yanked her through the fridge.

“And she- And it just happened to gain self-awareness? A little over a year ago?” asked Sunburst, staring into the portal. “I’m surprised it’s as mature as it is.”

Twilight shrugged. “All I can think of is that Luna’s a good mother. Mentor. Whatever. Moondog thinks of her as its mother, so that’s the relationship I’m going with.”

“I guess anything else would, it’d be more complicated,” said Sunburst. He paused. “So if multiple people contributed to its creation, would it regard all of them as its parents, or would it only focus on the person who, who did the most? Or… Hmm.” He folded his ears back and flicked his tail.

Moondog climbed back out of the portal. “Come on, Sunburst.” It waved him through and said to Twilight, “Be seeing you,” before following Sunburst. Half a second later, its hoof reached back out and zipped the portal shut.

And Twilight was alone, with nothing but unlimited study supplies and a mind full of what she’d already learned. Even if it wasn’t comprehensive, there was a lot of it. She could work with that, get her thoughts in order before Sunburst arrived in the real world. She trotted over to one of the less messy desks, her hooves clicking on the linole-

Realization hit. “Hang on,” she said to herself. “Why are we still in my kitchen?”

Source Incantations: Unit Testing

Having trouble falling asleep when you needed to fall asleep to do research was hard. Having to wait days to do research simply because you needed to wait for somepony to get his patootie over to the lab was even harder. But Twilight managed.

Two days after the first attempted research project, not long after Sunburst had arrived at her castle, Twilight was pacing a ring into the floor of the library. Which was impressive, considering the hardness of corundum. “It said it’d be here,” Twilight said. “It needs to be here. We can’t do anything without it being here. It’s past time for it to be here.” Whirling on Starlight and Sunburst, flaring her wings, she yelled, “So why isn’t Moondog here?!” The Royal Ponyville Voice, though less loud and a little bit squeakier than the Royal Canterlot Voice, still had enough of a punch to scatter their neat stacks of paper.

A golden gleam collected most of the paper and restacked it. “It… forgot?” suggested Sunburst.

“Or,” suggested Starlight, “it’s late because your definition of ‘late’ is about thirty seconds after the arrival time.”

“That’s late!” screamed Twilight. “Technically. Kinda. Sorta. Not really. But I had dream magic handed to me on a silver platter and now I can’t study it and DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO HANDLE THAT wait I bet you do you’re handling that right now WELL I CAN’T HANDLE IT THAT WELL AND IT’S-”

Abruptly, the air in front of them rippled and Moondog tumbled out onto the floor. “Sorry, sorry!” it said. The stars twirled in its coat as it stretched. “Real-world teleportation is so weird. It’s like, you misplace one stupid little mana fragment and you’re at the Tree of Harmony rather than the Castle of Harmony for some stupid reason, and if you get the relative granularity wrong, you can- Sorry.” It folded its wings close. “Being out here is weird.”

“-NOT MY FAULT I’M SO READY TO LEARN AND I HAVE THE PATIENCE OF A oh hey Moondog’s here.” Twilight blinked like her train of thought had derailed at the station it was heading to anyway.

“Yes, I am,” said Moondog. “And waiting for you to get on with the analyzing. Blah blah, Princess Luna, you heard it a few nights ago. Spells should work on me now, just FYI.”

“We’re pretty much starting from scratch,” said Starlight. “Why don’t we try a diagnostic? Like Flemane’s Fitness Filing or something. I know it won’t do much, but it’ll give us a place to start.”

“Well, um,” said Sunburst, “actually-”

“Good idea, Starlight,” said Twilight. That spell was very simple, the kind of thing most unicorn surgeons learned in their first weeks of study and discarded a few moons later once they learned more comprehensive spells. But it was easy to cast, and it was as good a place to start as any. “Hold still, Moondog.” Moondog snapped into a rigid standing pose as Twilight launched the spell.

But something was off. She clearly saw the spell connect, but it didn’t return any results, like it’d just hit a wall. Not even any readings on bioarcanics. She tried again. Same result. “Huh,” said Twilight. “That’s strange. The spell says there’s nopony there.”

“Well, there isn’t,” said Moondog. Sunburst grinned, then quickly looked away.

Twilight opened her mouth and lifted a hoof declaratively, then planted her face in it. “Duh. No biological life signs. Let me try something else.” If the usual diagnostic spells didn’t work, then maybe one that scanned for magic would. She switched to the most basic probe spell she knew and fired it at Moondog. Although “fired” was perhaps too intense; “lightly tossed” would be more accurate.

Once the spell hit (“lightly encountered”) it, Moondog hiccuped; the stars in its coat twisted, flipping in and out of neat, straight lines. Its entire body rippled and its wings cycled between every possible style Twilight had seen: pegasus, batpony, old changeling, new changeling, butterfly, dragon, and more. Moondog hiccuped again and a small cloud of rainbow-colored smoke poofed from its ear. When it spoke, it sounded like three or four ponies with almost the same voice speaking just barely out of sync. “Okay, whoof. Weird.” It clapped itself on the chest and the changes stopped. “But I feel fine.”

At the same time, Twilight’s spell returned its results. Its rather impressive results. In spite of its simplicity, the spell had given Twilight an idea of a complex, interlocking series of thaumic and dream spells alike (mostly the latter), layered on top of and beneath and around and through each other. She only had the vaguest sense of what each spell actually did, but that was what the more specialized spells were for.

“Good, good,” she said, grinning with a little too many teeth. Her eyes were twinkling in that manic way that is seen only in Twilight Sparkle studying new magic. One expected her mane to go all frizzy of its own free will. “That worked. Now we’re getting somewhere. Starlight, get Biro’s Auto-Dictation Charm ready. Moondog, hold still. Sunburst, um… provide moral support.”

“Glad to be of service,” muttered Sunburst.

“C’mon, don’t worry about it,” said Moondog, grinning. “Best do-nothing buddies forever! Or at least until the dictation’s done and you can start analyzing the results and I’ll still be doing nothing. Until then, hoof bump?”

“…Hoof bump.” Bump.

Several dozen spells, a few hours of recording results, almost fifty reams of paper, and sixteen burned-out quills later, Twilight was sitting within a veritable, if tiny, castle built of equation-covered paper, grinning like an insane baroness. “Yes,” she whispered, rubbing her hooves together. “Yesssssssssss…” Her wings wriggled with glee.

Starlight rolled her eyes, but Sunburst gulped. “Um, T-Twilight? Are… you okay?”

“Okay? Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m more than okay, even! Look at all this paperwork!” Cackling, Twilight hugged several of the larger stacks close to her like a dragon might its hoard. “All these spells, all this magic, right at my hooftips! More complicated dream magic than anypony besides Luna has ever seen or imagined! Maybe including Luna! And it’s mine, all mine! All in the name of science! Luna might think we can’t summarize this magic in any reasonable space! Well, I’ll show her!” She threw back her head and roared with mad laughter.

Moondog glanced at Starlight and Sunburst and, making little explosion-y gestures that trailed electricity, said, “Thunder, thunder, boom, lightning crack, pipe organ, bwa-na-na.”

“Let’s go,” Starlight whispered to Sunburst. “We don’t want to be around when she crashes.” She nudged him into a corner and claimed her own, carrying her notes with her.

In some ways, the more you looked into interpersonal dream magic, the more disturbing it became. Sliding into a person’s unconscious unnoticed and being able to pick through their memories were just the tip of the iceberg, and they were bad enough. Starlight was glad she’d never learned of these spells before meeting Twilight, or else she’d never have gotten kicked out of Tyrant Mode.

Now that she had a conscience, staying away from that temptation was as easy as just not learning those spells. They were high-level dream magic, and so turned your mind inside out when you looked at the instructions. Old Starlight would’ve devoted years to learning them; New and Somewhat Improved Starlight would think nothing of putting the book back on the bookcase.

But Starlight still felt weird as she stared at the spells that let Moondog access a pony’s desires to personalize dreams. Moondog had had these spells since day one, and it was a little… impulsive, to be honest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Moondog was looking into the personal lives of everypony just because. Of course, the spell had originally come from Luna, who didn’t do anything like that (…probably), and yet-

Behind her, Moondog cleared its throat. “I’m doing my best to ignore the anxiety vibes you’re sending out,” it said, mildly embarrassed, “but you’re making it kinda hard. Especially since I can tell that it’s about me.” Something flowed around Starlight’s legs and beneath the desk, gathering up across from her and plumping out into Moondog. “Sorry, but I’m tuned to mental magic. Can’t help it.” It shrugged.

Starlight weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth, but only for a moment. “No offense, it’s your access to memory,” she said. “It’s supposed to be used for good, but every story I’ve heard about memory spells like that puts them in the hooves of bad ponies who invade privacy like they’re thieves plundering a vault.” She expected Moondog to explode defensively, both emotionally (Rainbow-Dash-style) and physically (puffer-fish-style). Nothing of the sort happened; if anything, it was nodding in agreement. “So, it’s just- What keeps you treating headspace privacy as a right rather than a polite suggestion?”

“Same thing that keeps you from using mind control to make your work easier: it’s a bad thing that’s bad. ’Course, you have a point.” Moondog lowered its voice and extended its neck until its head was right next to Starlight’s. “Wanna know a secret? It actually took me a few weeks to learn that casually rifling through ponies’ memories is a bad thing. Which doesn’t sound like that much, but it was, like, half my life at that point.”

Moondog pulled back again. “Mom was really firm on that once I woke up. Going through hers was okay — it was part of how she taught me — but nopony else’s. And in fact, she even put in something in case I slipped up — maybe you’ve gotten to it already…” It reached over, flipped through Starlight’s papers, then pointed at one spell in particular. “Right there.”

Starlight had detected the form of the spell based on her own measurements, but she hadn’t really examined it, even as she was writing it down. Now she did, and- “Is that a self-administered amnestic?” she asked in disbelief. The idea of it made her feel… strange. Who would come up with something like that?

“If I see something that’s too private…” Moondog reached knee-deep into its ear, pulled out a little bag that said, Personal secrets, and tossed it away. “And just like that, I forget that I’ve seen it. I don’t need to use it often, but every now and then, I make a mistake, so just in case, poof.”

“…That is messed up. And coming from me, that’s saying something.”

“Messed up for a pony, maybe. Good thing I’m not one. And it’s way more effective than an NDA. Besides, what’re you freaking out about? You’re the one who made it.”

“No, I didn’t!” protested Starlight. “I’d remember- something like… Oh Cele-”

FLASH. Starlight blinked starry lights out of her eyes as Moondog lowered its camera, grinning. “You didn’t, not really,” it said as it shook the Pommelroid paper. “Mom started making me before you became Twilight’s student. But your face right now was pretty great.” It held up the picture.

It was a pretty great face, admittedly. Starlight chuckled in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s good. Just don’t spread it around, okay?”

Moondog tucked the picture beneath a wing. “Promise. I’m not that bad at keeping secrets. Although if you want to hear about why I keep that spell around, ask Mom about the Duchess Ponderosa Incident.”

“…What happened?”

“I don’t remember. Mom won’t tell me, either. That’s why you need to ask her.”

Although the lattice for the spells is static, its effects on it are incre

Aaaaand he’d forgotten proper use of antecedents again. Sunburst groaned and rewrote his sentence for what felt like the fifth time that hour.

Although the lattice for the spell is static, its effects on Moondog are incredibly diverse, from wide-ranging environmental manipulation to levitation of small objects. It mostly uses its ba

Groan. Rewrite. Again.

Moondog mostly uses its basic functionality to ensure its

Another tack, then.

Although the lattice for the spells is static, its effects on Moondog are incredibly diverse, from wide-ranging environmental manipulation to levitation of small objects. They mostly u

Sunburst dropped his quill and walked over to Twilight’s desk. Moondog was perched on her head as she wrote spells down and making occasional comments. “Hey, um, Moondog?” said Sunburst.

“Yeah?” asked Moondog, glancing at him. Twilight didn’t look up from the diagram she was sketching, but one of her ears angled towards Sunburst.

“Is there, um, any reason we keep referring to you as an ‘it’? I know that you’re gender-neutral, but…” Sunburst swallowed. “No offense, but it, it feels like I’m talking about a machine.”

Moondog raised an eyebrow and slid down Twilight’s back to the floor. “I am a machine.”

“Actually, since you can change your own, your own working parameters, you’re an animus, which was purely hypothetical until you showed up.”

“Huh. That’s a new one,” Moondog said, tilting its head and flicking an ear. “Anyway, no, there’s no reason. Just what people have been doing. Why? I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re asking.” It glanced at the ink splatters on his robe. “Having trouble writing?” it asked with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended.”

Sunburst nodded. “I have to constantly rewrite my, my antecedents so readers know which ‘it’ or ‘they’ I’m talking about. If it matters, I can stick with the way I’m writing, but-”

“You can go with ‘she’. Or any other pronoun, I won’t mind. Just stic-”

Twilight’s quill speared through the parchment and into the desk below. “Whoa, hold on. What? Moondog, you shouldn’t just let ponies change your- identity like that just because it’s convenient for them.”

“Why not? I let them change my everything every night because it’s convenient for them. I let you change my dimension because it’s convenient for you.”

Sunburst cleared his throat and said, “I’m, um, I’m fine with sticking with using ‘it’, so you don’t need to-”

“This is different,” protested Twilight. “We’re trying to study you, like you asked, not trying to change who you are!”

“But- I-” Moondog groaned and planted its face in its hoof. “You know I was built, right? Solely to serve ponies? And that letting them use whatever pronouns they feel like is a weirdly specific part of that service, but a part nonetheless?”

“Um, excuse me?” said Sunburst. “Is, is anypony-”

“Even if you were built to serve ponies, there’s more to life than doing what you were built to do. Starlight, Sunburst, and I all have special talents related to magic, but we’re more than just our magic.” (“I’m not sure I am,” Sunburst said in a quiet voice.) “You’re allowed to be your own person.”

Moondog snorted. “It’s possible to be servile and self-actualizing at the same time, you know. I mean, stars forbid devoting your life to helping others being a bad thing. If you care about what I think, I think I should declare this matter more closed than a swimsuit shop in winter.” It pointed at Sunburst. “Just use whatever pronouns you feel like. He, she, it, they, s/he, zhe-”

“How in Tartarus did you pronounce the slash like that?” demanded Twilight, her earlier worries already forgotten.

“Trade secret,” said Moondog.

“I, um…” Sunburst pushed his glasses up his muzzle as he looked Moondog over. “I think I’ll go with ‘she’. You kinda look a little bit like a ‘she’. Maybe. If you’re biased. I… think it’s just your long mane.”

“Alrighty then. HEY! STARLIGHT!”

“I heard!” Starlight yelled from her desk. “Might change what I’m writing, but I dunno!”

“Right,” said Sunburst. He shifted his weight from one side to the other. “Sorry to bother you and I’ll, um, get back to writing.” He paused, then returned to his desk. After re-inking his quill, he scribbled a note at the top of the first page.

Although biologically genderless by default and capable of turning into either sex (or both at once), feminine pronouns will be used for Moondog for simplicity of writing, by her own approval.

Good. The second he lifted his quill from the paper, Sunburst heard a tiny sparkle of magic behind him. He had a pretty good guess of what he’d see, but he turned around anyway.

Reclining on the nearest table was the most sculpted pony Sunburst had ever seen, one that was to stallions what Celestia and Luna were to mares and then some. The alicorn’s horn had been shined with cosmic dust, his wings preened with nebulae. His jawline had been chiseled from a mountain, or at least, that was what it looked like behind his beard. His beard that, like his windblown mane and tail, used luxuriousness itself as conditioner and was so silky smooth it made silk itself run home sobbing in inadequacy. His hooves were the smoothest arcs imaginable, polished to a mirror shine, and capped off legs as thick as oak branches and as strong as pistons. Galaxies twisted and quasars spun through his coat, far more than the ordinary night sky. Twilight seemed to be sneaking glances at him every few seconds.

Moondog glanced at Sunburst with his serenely glowing eyes and smiled a sparkling smile. Literally, considering those teeth had stars in them. “I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he said in a flowing, very masculine voice of honeyed ambrosia. “Did you say something?”

Sunburst rolled his eyes. “No.”

Smirking, Moondog put a hoof to his mouth to hide a chuckle. “Sorry,” he said, “but I had to. Just this once.” His voice shifted back to his usual one. “Seriously, promise,” she said. “Won’t do it again.” Moondog yanked her beard off and tossed it away; it vanished before it’d gone five feet.

“Right.” Sunburst went back to the spot that had started all this.

Although the lattice for the spell is static, its effects on her are incredibly diverse, from wide-ranging environmental manipulation to levitation of small objects. She mostly uses its basic functionality to ensure her control over it, but is not averse to more advanced uses.

Sweet Celestia, that read so much better.

Twilight wrote, but her mind wasn’t on her writing. (For once.) Sunburst had decided to change something about Moondog’s identity just to make his writing easier, and Moondog was just… okay with that? Okay, so Sunburst had been nice enough to ask, and it was like ninety-nine percent Moondog’s decision anyway, but still. Did friendship go that far? Rarity being generous didn’t entail her giving away every single thing she owned, so why-

Moondog coughed behind her. “Wow, and I thought Starlight’s bad vibes were obvious.” It meandered around Twilight and slouched across her desk. “You need to chillax, sah. I. Am. Fine. With Sunburst’s… thing.” It propped up its head with a leg. “But you don’t think so, right?” Its grin was sympathetic.

“It’s… I don’t know,” said Twilight. It was a weird feeling, one she couldn’t fully articulate. “Your identity shouldn’t be so… susceptible to peer pressure. You know what I mean? Even if you were an ‘it’, you were still a person, and Sunburst should be able to accept that.”

“Hoo boy. This talk again.” Moondog sighed and ran a hoof through its mane. “Look. I am not a pony with some magic laid on top of me, so stop treating me like one. I am a Tantabus. This body-” It waved a hoof up and down itself. “-is one part of making ponies comfortable in their dreams. It makes just as much sense for me to look like a pony as it does for me to look like a dragon or a yak or anything. I put on a kaleidoscope of faces every night, all of them as real as this one, if only for a moment. If you want me to be the ‘real me’, you should probably get used to trying to talk to a disembodied blob of energy that lives in your head and communicates through sensation, thought, and hallucinations.”

“I could get used to that,” said Twilight. Could she? She could. Probably. Yes. Maybe? Definitely.

“You got used to sprouting wings in, like, a week. You’re a special case. If I was a pony, yeah, Sunburst just changing how he refers to me would be weird. But, for the umpty-fifth time…” Moondog melted into a starry timberwolf. “Not a pony.”

“Right.” Twilight went back to her paper, and idly scratched out a few equations, lost in thought. Honestly, yes, it was easy at times to forget Moondog wasn’t a pony with a magically-dyed coat and a talent for dream magic. But it — she — was anything but. Part of Twilight tried to argue that Moondog was only okay with that because she’d been designed that way, but the (much larger) rest of her pointed out that how much of Twilight’s own personality and skills with magic had been “designed” that way? It was all very confusing.

Stupid first-time establishing of golem social norms. Maybe she should’ve hired a psychologist to hang around.

“Don’t worry,” Moondog said in a deep voice. A bit of hair snaked into view and playfully flicked Twilight’s nose. “You’ll get over it.”

At the changed voice, Twilight looked up. Moondog was a model stallion again and the hair tickling Twilight’s muzzle was his beard, not his mane. Her wings twitched outwards and she quickly looked back down.

Moondog snickered. “I think you need to get out more,” he said. His beard batted Twilight again, then went limp. “Speaking of getting out, are any ideas getting out of your head?”

“Not quite, but I might be onto something.” Twilight fanned through the last five or so pages she’d written down. “If you put all these spells together, plus a few more I’m still looking at, they could be enough to give you pattern recognition.”

“Okay…” said Moondog. “So what?”

“So what?” Twilight boggled. “Pattern recognition is one of the most underrated elements of the sapient psyche! It’s incredibly versatile and observed in all intelligent species, and yet nopony’s sure where it comes from! Why, it might even be the key to your own self-awareness!”

“Really,” said Moondog flatly. “You think I’m self-aware because I have pattern recognition.”

“Well, maybe. You were designed to make good dreams, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So eventually, at some point, you recognized that dreams coming in were different than dreams going out, and you asked yourself why. And then you realized that you, as a dream-controlling tulpa, existed. Then you started making changes to yourself so you could make changes to dreams better, and… eeehhh?” Twilight gestured off vaguely, making a somewhat hopeful sound.

Moondog rolled his eyes. “That theory’s thinner than Rarity’s last order of silk.” Which was pretty dang thin. Rarity hadn’t shut up about the misshipment for a week.

“Look, we don’t know what makes us self-aware,” Twilight sighed. “A conscious being trying to study consciousness is like a mirror trying to look at itself.”

“…I am so stealing that line. Put that line in your report.”

To be honest, it wasn’t half bad. Where had it come from?

“Think they can hear us?” Moondog asked.

“Twilight, maybe,” said Starlight. “She’s pretty alert, even if she doesn’t look it. Sunburst, definitely not. He doesn’t just get tunnel vision, he gets tunnel sensation and tunes out everything. He gets a one-track mind par excellence.”

“Wanna test it out?”

“Sure.”

Moondog walked over to Twilight and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, cousin-in-law?”

Twilight didn’t look up. “Yeah?”

“I’m bored, so I’m gonna go to Canterlot, pretend to be you, and utterly trash your reputation, especially with Celestia.”

Twilight’s voice was disinterested. “Mmhmm. Go ahead.”

Moondog glanced skeptically at Starlight. “And if that doesn’t work out, I’m gonna give ponies all across the country dreams to make them paranoid and start a race war.”

“Uh-huh. Remember to take data from it if you can. If you want it to be fast, start by convincing the earth ponies that they need to look out for number one. They’ll hoard the food they grow and exacerbate any problems beyond repair. Also, yes, I can hear you.”

“Told you,” said Starlight, smirking. “Try Sunburst, now.”

“Hey, Sunburst?”

“Yeah?” He sounded almost as disinterested as Twilight.

“I’m bored. You know those spare robes you brought?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna burn ’em.”

“Okay.”

Moondog blinked. She vanished and reappeared within seconds, wearing robes identical to Sunburst’s. “These robes.”

“Uh-huh.”

Moondog snatched an oil lamp from the wall. “With this fire.” Starlight’s eyes went wide.

“Yep.”

Starlight made “no, don’t”, motions, but Moondog stuffed a corner of the robe in the lamp. One second later, it was burning merrily. Four more seconds later, in spite of Starlight’s best efforts, it had completely caught and was flaking to ashes. Moondog wasn’t the least bit perturbed by the flames licking her body. “Like that.”

“Cool.”

By the time Moondog had hung the lamp back up, the robe was gone. She walked back to Starlight and muttered, “Okay, that’s impressive.”

“You burned Sunburst’s robe,” gasped Starlight. “Why did you burn Sunburst’s robe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snorted Moondog. “That was just an illusion. Why do you think you couldn’t put it out? Seriously, I would never do something like that.”

“Oh. Right. Duh. Sorry, I’m thinked out at the moment.”

Starlight and Moondog looked at Sunburst. He hadn’t twitched.

“He’s got it bad, hasn’t he?” said Moondog.

“You have no idea.”

“Hey, Moondog?” asked Sunburst.

“Yeah?”

“You can’t get hurt, right?”

“As far as I know, yeah. Why?”

“This is why.” And Sunburst bucked Moondog a clear forty feet across the room. She rolled across the carpet, tumbled over a table, and landed sprawled against a couch.

Starlight was yanked away from her work in an instant. “Sunburst!” she yelled. “Just- What was that for?”

“Science!” said Sunburst, smiling. “One of my hypotheses was confirmed!”

“What hypothesis?” demanded Starlight. “Is this about your robes?”

“I’m fine, by the way,” said Moondog, sliding its wings out from between the cushions. “No, really, I am.”

Sunburst waved a hoof dismissively.“No, no, this isn’t- Wait. What did she do to my robes?!” he squealed.

Research went on for almost a week. Trying to make sense of dream magic in the physical world was like herding cats (and not in the “just get Fluttershy to ask them nicely” way). But progress was made, equations were balanced, and eventually, they had organized their notes and findings into something resembling presentable. Before doing the final compilation, they agreed to share (a simplified version of) their findings with each other before diving into their notes and more technical reports and making them look professional.

Papers were scattered (and sometimes stacked) all over the library in a form of chaotic organization, like a windstorm had ripped all the pages from all the books. As Sunburst assembled his notes, Twilight spritzed some of the library’s plants with a water bottle; they needed some care. Then she spritzed herself; she was a little sweaty from the intense studying. Starlight was sprawled on a couch, power napping, and Moondog was rocking back and forth on her hooves as she stared at Sunburst. Spraying another plant, Twilight said, “You can go back into dreams if you’re uncomfortable, you know.”

Moondog shook her head. “No. Not now. We’re, like, right at the end. The physical world isn’t that weird.”

Starlight cracked an eye open. “You could sift through our memories.”

“Nowhere near as fun.”

Finally, Sunburst managed to get his things in order. Everyone turned to him as he cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “um, I stink at beginnings, so… here we go, oneiroturgy and thaumaturgy. Moondog is unique among beings in that, when she’s in the dream realm, she can’t wake up. While Luna projects herself into our dreams, she’s… not exactly asleep, but a part of her definitely remains in the physical realm. Moondog goes completely from one to the other, and the easiest way to do that is to travel through a pony’s dreams. Short version, when moving from dreams to reality or vice versa, Moondog can only use the dream of a sleeping sapient to do so, since a dream is, as we all remember…” He took a deep breath. “…a subdimension outside of space and time at the nexus of consciousness and matter tethered to a pony’s essence.” He kept straightening his papers and flipping through the pages, but he barely looked at them.

Moondog’s hoof shot up. “So when can I use dreams to time travel?” she asked, grinning.

“When the pony travels with you,” said Sunburst, pushing his glasses up. “Or to be more precise, when you travel with them. You can squash and stretch time, but since a dream is connected to a pony who still lives in time, you can’t actually break it. Unfortunately.” He sounded a touch forlorn at the lack of free time travel.

“Dagnabbit.” To Twilight and Starlight, Moondog added, “And if you’re wondering how I get from dreams to here at the right time, there’s pretty much always somepony napping around here for me to use. Usually Rainbow Dash.”

Sunburst flipped through a few pages, still not looking at them. “Now, when it comes to actual real-world magic, Moondog can barely do anything unrelated to herself. She’ll struggle with basic levitation, which even I can do. But she can make it look like she can do a lot, since she’s exceptionally good at illusions. Which makes sense, since illusion magic and dream magic are closely related. In fact, she’s so good at illusions that she probably doesn’t even know she’s casting illusion magic right now.”

Moondog blinked. “I am?”

“Your body, it’s…” Sunburst nibbled on his lip. “How do I put this… It’s not physical at all. It’s a quale.”

Twilight’s ears went up and her wings sprang open with an, “Ooo!”, knocking over the water bottle. Starlight, however, was left a bit befuddled and Moondog wrinkled her nose. “What’s a quale?” asked Starlight.

“It’s a sensory perception,” said Sunburst. “Moondog’s appearance literally doesn’t exist outside of our heads. She doesn’t cast a shadow and she doesn’t have a reflection because there’s no physical body to have a shadow or reflection. She won’t show up in pictures and I wouldn’t be surprised if recording devices can’t pick up her voice. We can still feel her because the magic that makes her up is trying to keep things out of her ‘body’, like in dreams, but in the real world, it’s not as effective, so she feels a lot lighter.” He glanced at Starlight. “I mean, did you really think I was strong enough to kick a real pony across the room like that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Starlight. “Maybe. You get defensive about your robes.”

“I, I’m sorry, can we go back a step?” said Moondog, making a flicking gesture. “Something about me not having a reflection? I’m not a vampire, you know! Not at the moment, anyway. I’m too…” She looked at her starry leg. “…sparkly.”

“It’s got nothing to do with vampires,” said Twilight. She sounded like she was ready to explode with knowledge. “It’s because the nature of your existence means the appearance of your body isn’t projecting or reflecting any physical light, and instead only exists within our minds. Because you’re not interacting with light, you’re not producing anything to be reflected.”

“So… I’m a sapient hallucination who’s hallucinating herself.”

“Exactly!”

Moondog turned away, rubbing her head. “Ow,” she muttered. “I thought feeling your mind break was just an expression. Ow. Ow.” She smacked herself on the side of the head; a few sparks fell out of her ear.

Sunburst cleared his throat. “ALSO,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, “what magic Moondog does cast, it tends to follow dream logic rather than real-world logic. Less ‘magic’ and more ‘low-key reality warping’, but nothing like, say, Discord.”

“I should hope not!” said Discord.

“It’s…” Sunburst flipped to a page at the back of his pile. “It’s too complicated to get into here,” he admitted. “Just, just read my report, and it’ll make sense.” He swallowed and muttered, “I hope.” More loudly, he said, “Anyway, that’s, um, that’s all I have to say.”

Starlight got up as Sunburst got down. “Um… mental abilities,” she said. “Most of this is pretty technical and we really don’t have the time for it right now-” (Twilight made a tiny, despairing sigh.) “-but the spells Moondog uses to, ah…” She coughed. “…get into and out of our heads are some of the most sophisticated I’ve seen. I mean, would you expect anything else from Luna? And, um, she can do it, with, uh, very little chance of being noticed.” Her voice slowly got lower, like this was something she didn’t want to talk about.

Twilight and Sunburst both glanced at Moondog, but didn’t say anything. Moondog herself didn’t look ashamed in the slightest.

“But the interesting thing I’ve noticed,” Starlight said quickly, “is that if she can, um, get into somepony’s unconscious while they’re awake, she can appear to them and only them. Basically make them see things that aren’t there. After all, what’s a hallucination but a waking dream?”

Seeing the look on Moondog’s face, Twilight squirted her with the water bottle.

“But, um, the method for that, it’s, I don’t know how to make it work,” said Starlight, “and it might not even be possible.” A pause. “Anyway, that’s all I have for now. It’s not something that sounds interesting when you sum it up.”

“Says you,” said Twilight. She exchanged places with Starlight, grabbed one of the larger stacks of paper (almost two feet tall) in her magic, and set it on a table. “On the off chance Moondog’s intelligence turned out to have one source, I did some deep digging into the reasoning part of her mind, and this-” She laid a hoof on top of the stack. “-is the results of following one thread all the way to the end. One thread, by the way. Out of dozens of thousands at least.” She gave a sort of tired smile at the stack.

“And…” Starlight pulled the first page over. The mess of spellwork there looked like a tsunami had rolled through a bookstore, mashing the mathematics, mathemagics, philosophy, and arcanoengineering books into a single work. Any one of the equations could’ve been the final result in some groundbreaking thesis. Half of it probably hadn’t even been conceived before today. “This is the source of Moondog’s intelligence?”

“No, this is the source of her love of peppermints.”

“They’re okay,” Moondog said defensively. “Not great.”

“I’m still working on the source of her shame of her love of peppermints.”

“Why is she ashamed of liking peppermints? Peppermints are great.”

“My guess? She’s closely based on Luna, Luna doesn’t like peppermints, and so Moondog feels like she shouldn’t like peppermints.”

“Luna doesn’t like peppermints?”

Sunburst stomped loudly on the ground. “Um, hello? Can we get back on track here? I feel like talking about candy too much will summon Pinkie Pie and then we’ll never get this done.”

“Fine,” said Twilight, rustling her wings. “But as I was looking at the spells, I realized that…” She shuddered. “…that I didn’t know how some of them worked. It was like they’d just been thrown together without any regard for the laws of magic, and not in a dreamlike sense. But if Luna knew how to cast those, then she shouldn’t’ve been surprised that Moondog became self-aware.” She paused just long enough for it to sink in, then added, “Unless.”

At that word, everyone flinched. It looked like Sunburst got it in an instant, based on the way his eyes grew huge. It took Starlight a bit longer, but she was soon nodding as she followed her thoughts to the end. Moondog stared at Twilight in anticipation, then in mild irritation. “Unless…?” she prompted.

“Unless,” Twilight said with a smile, “Luna wasn’t the one who made those spells.”

She took a deep breath. “In addition to the usual non-self-aware golem enchantments, I think that somewhere in Moondog is a spell optimizer, put there by Luna first thing to make its creation easier. It can affect the spells used within Moondog, the ones originally cast by Luna, based on her inputs. As she tested what would become Moondog, she sent the optimizer positive or negative signals based on how the golem reacted to certain situations, so the optimizer could change the spells in ways she couldn’t think of. That way, she wouldn’t need to give it a tweak every time something went wrong; she could just scold it with a ‘bad golem’ spell and let the optimizer figure it out.”

“Wait a minute,” said Sunburst, sitting up straight. “If, if that thing’s still running in her, then…” He glanced at Moondog. “We don’t have to worry about, I don’t know, her personality suddenly shifting when it makes a change, do we?”

“I’m not gonna go nightmare-crazy overnight, if that’s what you’re wondering,” said Moondog. Then she smirked fangily and said, “You know, probably not.”

“Technically, the optimizer’s still there, but practically, it’s not,” said Twilight. “It’s still running, but it’s not optimizing itself. As more and more spells get added onto Moondog, the optimizer has to run through more and more data. And it was fine when she was just a few animation spells with a set objective, but now that it takes an entire encyclopedia just to tell us why she occasionally likes to use big words, it can take years for the optimizer to cover everything once and decide what needs changing. In fact…” She turned to Moondog. “You’ve been getting more emotionally stable as you grow, right?”

Moondog tilted her head. “Yeah, but I just thought that was me growing up.”

“It might be. But I’ve also got a hypothesis that the optimizer was triggering your moods by tweaking your spells in one direction or another in response to outward stimuli, which it could do since you didn’t have a lot of spells that made you up. Now that you’re so much more complicated, any single change isn’t going to have nearly as much of an impact.”

Twilight shuffled her notes again. She didn’t need to; it just made her feel more official. “But the net result of this, and this is me going out a limb here, is that Moondog’s self-awareness is entirely an accident on the optimizer’s part. I think that, at some point, she just got so complex that she became sapient as an emergent property of the system. I wish I could say more, but until we know what makes us sapient, this is the best I can do. Sorry,” she added to Moondog.

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Moondog gestured dismissively. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy, anyway.” She stood up and fanned her wings. “Thank you all for your help, and I bet Mom’ll like it, too. I’ll get around to reading your work one day, but until then, night’s coming and I gotta run.” She saluted. “Adios, amigos.” She whipped up emptiness around herself and was gone.

“She doesn’t stick around, does she?” said Sunburst.

“Say what you will about her,” said Twilight, “but she’s got a phenomenal work ethic. And I think she’s used to going from one thing to another with little in-between since, you know, that’s what she does pretty much all night long. Now…” She turned to the mess of papers strewn about the library. “We need to get this all categorized.”

“Yay,” said Starlight flatly.

“Yay!” said Sunburst.

“But we can do that tomorrow,” said Twilight. “Or, at least, you can, Starlight, because I know what I’m doing tonight!”

“Me, too!” said Sunburst. He raised a hoof. “Research buddies?”

“Research buddies!” Hoof bump.

“Nerrrrrrrrrds,” said Starlight, but she was smiling.

“It takes one to know one!” said Twilight. “Can I see your notes?”

Luna followed Staff Sergeant Iron Phalanx to the cargo entrance of the castle. “What was it, exactly, you wanted me to see?”

“You received a package from Princess Twilight Sparkle, Your Highness,” Phalanx said. “You, personally. We would’ve taken it straight to your room, but, ah…” He rustled his wings as he pushed open the door to the cargo bay and pointed. “That… wasn’t really an option.”

The metal box was a good six feet by six feet by six feet, various forms of duct and packing tape clamping it shut more tightly than a bank vault. A tag slapped on the side indicated it weighed more than six and a half tons. It sat there, ominously, waiting to be opened, yet looking like opening it was forbidden. No, Luna thought, getting that to her room wasn’t possible. It probably wasn’t even possible to get it through the door into the castle.

“We’ve done some preliminary scans, just in case,” said Phalanx, “and it appears to contain nothing but ink and paper.”

Luna snorted. “Only Twilight Sparkle would require freight shipping for a single research report,” she muttered.

Stress Test

Was school, like, symptomatic of some bigger issue in society as a whole? Because it seemed to Moondog that for something that consisted mainly of telling people the right ways of how to do things, no one seemed to know the right way of how to do it. This school had to follow these laws, that one didn’t but had to follow those laws, this one was limited to students that had taken those classes, you had to write letters to get into all these, this one got public funding but this one didn’t, and that wasn’t even getting into the mess of technically-extrajudicial baloney that was the School of Friendship. It was all very confusing, and that was coming from a being who managed dreams.

Of course, Moondog’s “school” had been literally the entire first month of her life and consisted mainly of over a thousand years’ worth of knowledge getting near-continuously etched directly onto (the arcane equivalent of) her brain. Ponies might get weirded out by that.

And, of course, no matter which non-knowledge-etching school you went to, school meant tests, and tests meant nightmares. It was kind of like clockwork and it was what-

dreamer.getName();return: "Gallus"

-Gallus was freaking out about now. In a manner of speaking. It explained the giant, cackling simulacrum of Twilight behind him.

“And don’t forget!” yelled Not-Twilight. “With every question you get wrong, the solutions get more basic while the solutions get more complicated! That is, the liquid solutions you’re swimming in get a higher pH number while the answers get harder! Hah! Science pun.”

Gallus fought to keep his head above the liquid that wasn’t quite water that he was swimming in. Waves beat him back and forth as giant test tubes surrounded him. All the while, he had a pencil in one hand and a paper in the other and was struggling to write something down.

liquid.drain();

A hole popped open below Gallus, and within seconds, all the liquid had drained away. Even Gallus himself was stone-dry. “Not again!” whined Not-Twilight. “That’s the fifth time this month! Hold still while I get the bleach.” And she was gone.

Gallus didn’t respond; he was too busy hastily scribbling gibberish down on his paper. His pencil was moving back and forth so quickly it was kicking up smoke. It wasn’t long before the predictable happened and the sheet caught fire. As it crumbled to ash in his claws, Gallus simply stared at it in disbelief. Then he started screaming his head off (not literally).

“Hi there!” said Moondog, flitting up next to him. “What’s up?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” screamed Gallus, flailing his arms.

“Aaaaaaaa aaaa aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” replied Moondog, doing the same.

“Aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaa aaaaa aaaaaaaa!” explained Gallus.

“Aaaaaaaaaaa?!” asked Moondog. “Aaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaa?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” answered Gallus emphatically. “AAAAA-”

dream.setLanguage(PONISH.Plain);dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

“-uldn’t make tea with a Bucksen burner!” Gallus wailed. “How am I supposed to understand arcane chemistry? And how does this relate at all to friendship?”

“Because in both friendship and chemistry, two very different things come together to make some new and different from either of them.”

“Hmph. By that logic, we should be baking cupcakes in classes besides Professor Pinkie’s.” Then Gallus blinked at Moondog. He looked around himself for a moment, then said, “Okay, I’m just taking a wild guess here: I’m dreaming and you’re Princess Luna trying out a new look.”

“One out of two ain’t bad!” Moondog drew herself up and bowed. “Name’s Moondog. I’m a-”

“You’re a dream construct and the reason Headmare Twilight was so distracted last week!” Gallus yelped, jumping to his feet. “I tried to talk with her one day, but she kept having these weird, whatstheword, tangents about how interesting you were. She actually wanted school to end so she could get back to studying you! Yona thought she might’ve been replaced by an unreformed changeling. Good thing we never got that net rigged up.”

“Pretty much, yeah. I noticed-”

“Wait, wait.” Gallus waved his paws at her. “Let me think for a sec.” He paced back and forth, rubbing at his beak. After a moment, he smirked and turned back to Moondog. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ve got a test in arcane chemistry tomorrow. I’ve had a super busy week working on projects and haven’t been able to study-” He dropped his voice a few notches in volume. “-and also I really suck at it anyways so in order to give me a good dream, you need to dive into Professor Zecora’s head and get me the answers for the test, right?” Perhaps it was because they were part cat, but griffons could nail helpless cuteness with surprising ease if they wanted to.

Moondog stroked her chin, pretending to think. “Well, I could do that…”

“Yesssss!”

“…if you’re willing to be an accessory to a downright felonious invasion of mental privacy such that you’d be going to jail for multiple life sentences, complete with a state-sponsored necromancer there to be sure you served them all, and the only way to avoid it would be to set a precedent that would basically allow me free reign inside anyone’s head anytime I chose with no possible legal repercussions anytime anywhere ever.”

Gallus looked like he’d been told that hydrochloric acid was good for the body, so drink up and drink fast.

“Also it’s cheating.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudgeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…” Gallus groaned. “I am so so, so dead…”

“Of course you’re not, you can’t die in a dream!” said Moondog, grinning. “But I can still help you. Just not like that.”

Gallus’s wings twitched. “Um… don’t help too hard, okay?” he said. “No offense to you, I’m sure you’re great, but the last time some ethereal magical being tried to help with school, I nearly got crushed to death. On purpose.”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException edreamer.findMemories("crush", "studying", "magical beiabortSearch();

It was only with great restraint that Moondog stayed out of Gallus’s memories. They were personal and they weren’t related to this particular dream, so they didn’t matter, so she should stay out of them, no matter how much she wondered what the heck was going on. Instead, she smiled again and said, “Nah, it’s harmless. I’ll get one of your friends to help you.”

“How’re you gonna do that?” Gallus asked. His tail flicked.

“Dreamwalking.” Moondog wrapped her legs around Gallus’s body. “Hold on.”

“What was Torch doing with that squeegee?” asked a thoroughly befuddled Gallus. “And that buttermilk? Was that even buttermilk? I think it was buttermilk.”

“Cleaning the carriage,” said Moondog. “Obviously.” Her skills in extra-conscious dream transference could still use a little work.

“Huh. Is that what that’s called?”

“Look, these are dreams, don’t think too hard about it.”

“That’d be easier if I could get that image out of my head.”

Considering how easily she flitted into and out of peoples’ minds, Moondog wondered (and not for the first time) if she could erase peoples’ memories with any degree of precision. Of course, she was hardly about to start now. Or at any point outside of a strictly controlled testing environment.

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

“Maybe she can help.” Moondog pointed down the hall. At the very end, snipping the ribbon for her personal museum, was-

“Ocellus! Thank you.” Gallus took off down the hall, yelling, “Ocellus! Hey, Ocellus!”

Ocellus blinked and shoved Celestia aside so she could get a better look. “Gallus? What’re- How-”

Sliding to a stop in front of Ocellus, Gallus said, “Ocellus, I need you to help me cram for our arcane chemistry test tomorrow.”

“But…” Ocellus frowned. “Tomorrow’s our history of friendship test. Arcane chemistry isn’t until next week.”

Gallus blinked, then screamed at Moondog, “You see how bad my week’s been?!” He kneaded his forehead. “At least I get history. Chemistry is…”

“Yeah.” Ocellus giggled. “Remember that time we were going to roast marshmallows and you-”

“YOU ALL PROMISED YOU’D NEVER MENTION THAT AGAIN!”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException edreamer.findMemories("maabortSearch();

“How did you even get here?” asked Ocellus.

“Remember that Moondog person construct thing Headmare Twilight was studying last week?” Gallus pointed. “Say hi.”

Moondog smiled and waved. “Hi! Don’t mind me, I’m just the chauffeur.”

Ocellus squeaked in surprise. “Oh, wow!” She twitched, like she didn’t want to intrude on Moondog’s personal space out of politeness while at the same time wanted to intrude so bad. She took a few steps forward. “So you’re- Wait.” She glanced at Gallus. “How’d you get so lucky?”

“I… had bad dreams about not studying,” Gallus mumbled evasively, “and… she said she’d get help. Fixing dreams is her thing and all…”

Ocellus turned back to Moondog. “So you’re casually breaking the laws of nature and crossing dimensions just to help him study?”

“Not exa-”

“Coooooooooool…”

“…What the heck. Sure.”

Gallus coughed. “So, uh, can we get to the actual studying now? The thing we’re all here for?”

“Wait, don’t you wanna know about the dream…” Ocellus looked sideways at Moondog, blinking a lot. One of her ears twitched.

“Tulpa,” prompted Moondog.

Ocellus’s ears went up. “-about the tulpa that just popped up and pulled you into another dream?”

Gallus shrugged. “This is Ponyville. If I reacted to half the weird things I saw, I’d be late for class every single day.”

“Mmm. I guess.” Ocellus looked thoughtfully at Moondog.

“Ask Twilight for a copy of the report and get some closet space ready,” said Moondog.

dream.settle(MOOD.Cozy);

Moondog stoked the fire. “So, you’ve got your supplies right over there.” She gestured towards the coffee table. “Some books, Ocellus’s memories of her notes-” (Ocellus looked like she wasn’t sure whether she should be impressed or disturbed.) “-and some flash cards.”

Gallus eyed the last pile suspiciously. “They don’t actually flash, do they?”

“I limit myself to thirty literal punnings every twenty-four hours,” said Moondog seriously. “Which doesn’t sound like much, but I go through bazillions of dreams every night. I need to save them up for the good stuff.” Besides, it was far too obvious. “Just think of a question and answer while holding one, and they’ll both appear on it.”

“Like…” Ocellus picked one up and words traced themselves out. Her eyes grew wide. “I want these,” she said fiercely. “For real.”

“Talk to Twilight. She’ll be elated.” Moondog clapped her hooves together. “You two need anything more? If not, I need to get back to dream-sculpting.”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Gallus. “Seriously, Ocellus, we need to start, I am this close to freaking out.”

“Alright. Um…” Ocellus managed to pull herself away from the flash cards. “So what parts do you need help on?”

“Then I’ll be off, back in about an hour to check on you.” Moondog saluted. “Adios, amigos, and good luck.” She vanished in a wisp of smoke.

A few dreams and one so annihilated nightmare later, Moondog zipped back into Ocellus’s dream. Luckily, they were still going at it, but Gallus was angry about something. Moondog invisibly hovered behind him, not drawing attention to herself.

“What island was Neighpoleon exiled to after he was first deposed?” Ocellus asked from one of the cards.

Gallus twisted one of his headfeathers as he somehow managed to bite his beak. “Ehm… Saint Haylena?” he asked.

Ocellus sadly shook her head. “No, that’s the second island. The first one was Elbuck, off of Bitaly.”

“Great job on keeping him exiled, guys,” muttered Gallus, slouching over the table. “Just let him waltz right back into Prance whenever he frigging feels like it.”

Moondog slid into full visibility. “So how’s it going?” she asked.

Gallus muttered, “Lousy,” at the same time Ocellus said, “Okay.” They looked at each other, then Gallus said, “Okay, yeah, it’s going okay. I’m feeling a lot better about the test than I did an hour ago. But I can’t remember anything about Prance! It just won’t stay in my head! You wouldn’t know any… insta-knowledge spells, would you?”

“It’s probably best to not try to find out right now.”

“I think I’m just bored with… this place. I like a little change every now and then. And in school, I can just go to a different room to study, but here…” Gallus marched to one of the windows, wrenched it open, and climbed out of the room. At the same time, he climbed into the room through a window on the opposite wall. As he walked back to his chair, he made a Face at Moondog.

“Prance and the Neighpoleonic Wars are the last thing we’re covering, so he might just be burned out,” offered Ocellus. “Gallus, you’ll do fine.”

“But I wanna do better than fine! I-”

“You want me to change the entire world just so you can study better?” asked Moondog, grinning. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? That’s easy!”

Gallus gawked and Ocellus boggled. Then Gallus shrugged. “Sure, let’s do it.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Can you do a tropical beach this time?”

“Gallus!” said Ocellus.

“C’mon, you know you want it!”

“I… might not…”

“Even better,” said Moondog. “Close your eyes.” Because a little dramatic indulgence never hurt. As soon as their eyes were tight shut, she set to work.

dream.settle(SPACE.Battlefield);[…]self.setAppearance(SPECIES.Earth_Pony);self.setAppearance(COAT_COLOR.Light_Tan);[…]

Once Moondog had put the finishing touches on his uniform, he said, “Now, open your eyes and watch out for the artillery.”

Gallus opened his eyes. “Whaddya mean, ‘watch out for-’ GREAT GOLDEN GROVER!” Gallus leaped into Ocellus’s arms and vice versa as a cannonball skipped off the grass beside them.

They were in the middle of a vast plain of farmland, a hill in the distance. Ponies in colorful armor were arranged in military lines on either side of them. Ponies and griffons alike were swarming the hill, along with several distinctive shapes that could only be cannons. “Welcome to Whinnyloo!” yelled Moondog, sweeping his baton over the entire plain. As he spoke, another volley of cannonballs soared overhead. “A battlefield of one of the last great coalitions between Equestria and Griffonstone, formed to stop the advance of Neighpoleon Ponyparte, Emperor of Prance! Which is me, by the way.” A neon sign flashing NEIGHPOLEON appeared in the air above him.

Once Gallus and Ocellus figured out how to get down, they took in the scene. Gallus examined the landscape and armies; Ocellus stared at Moondog like she was having a religious experience. Moondog adjusted his collar a little and looked away. When Gallus turned back, he looked Moondog up and down and said, “I thought he was short. I think you’re taller than Applejack!”

Moondog raised an eyebrow. “And you believe that Griffish propaganda? Pfah! Next to the impressive bodyguards I had, anybody would look small.” Two big, strong stallions emerged from behind him, both a full head taller, and without any dream skewing, slightly-taller-than-average Moondog became quite-small Moondog. “Except Celestia, obviously.”

“And then there were the differences in measurements!” chirped Ocellus. “The Prench foot was slightly longer than the Equestrian foot, so when the heights got translated-”

“Let the Emperor speak,” Moondog made one of the stallions rumble. Ocellus made a squeaking sound that was about 65% glee and 35% distress and hopped in place.

“Now,” boomed Moondog, “that army-” He pointed at the ridge. “-is led by none other than the Duke of Nestington, a griffon and one of the finest defensive commanders of all time! And that ridge, Mont-Selle-Jument, is perfect for one such as him. He hid the bulk of his forces on the other sides so that I could not see them and miscalculated his strength.” He poked upwards. “Take a look.”

Gallus took to the skies, Ocellus close behind him. After a few moments of looking, they swooped back down. “Okay, cool, that’s pretty neat,” Gallus said, “but what kind of idiot wouldn’t send out his pegasi to get a good look from the air? Like we just did?”

“Prance had very few pegasi — and unicorns, too,” interjected Ocellus. “They just weren’t available for scouting.” She looked at Moondog hopefully.

“Exactly right!” said Moondog. “In fact, one of the main reasons I was made Emperor in the first place was because…”

And so it went over ten minutes or so, with Ocellus and Moondog (mostly the former) explaining the ins and outs of the Neighpoleonic Wars that would probably be on the test as the Battle of Whinnyloo raged about them (Moondog kept the artillery volleys to a minimum). Every now and then, Ocellus would quiz Gallus on some random fact, and most of the time, he got it. “Most of the time” also appeared to be sufficient for him, since right answers elevated his spirits more than wrong answers lowered them.

“…and the period between Neighpoleon’s exiles was known as…?” asked Ocellus.

“Pfft. The Hundred Days,” snorted Gallus. “Even though it was actually a hundred and eleven days. Boom! Nailed it!” He pumped a fist in the air.

“You did,” said Ocellus. “I think you’ll do fine tomorrow. Or… what time is it? Is it today yet?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Gallus pounced on Moondog and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

self.setAppearance(DEFAULT);

“Mmhmm,” said Moondog. She draped her wings around Gallus and squeezed back, just a little. “But next time, just study, okay? I can’t keep doing stuff like this.”

Gallus released Moondog. “I would’ve if we hadn’t had that stupid class project all week!”

“It was a pretty stupid project,” mused Ocellus. “Where were we supposed to get all that wax?” She blinked and shook her head. “Anyway, um, Moondog, what happens now?”

Moondog shrugged. “Not much. Gallus goes back to his dream, I set this one back to what it was before, and-”

“Well, actually, do you think you could leave mine like this?” Ocellus sprang into the air and buzzed over several rows of soldiers. “I’m living history! This is amazing!”

“Sure, if you want it.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Ocellus buzzed into the distance, towards Mont-Selle-Jument.

“Uh, no dreams for me, thanks,” said Gallus. “I just want to sleep. With my luck, I’ll wake myself up by freaking out again.”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best,” said Moondog. “If all else fails, I’ll just give you a dream of sleeping.”

Gallus blinked. He tilted his head one way, then the other. He opened his beak, raised a claw declaratively, and froze. “Ow,” he mumbled, and rubbed his temples.

“I make dreams, not destroy them, sue me.”

The next night, Ocellus was drowning.

Moondog’s random patrol took her over Ponyville, and of the few nightmares she experienced, Ocellus’s was the fiercest. She was chained to a weight, sinking into the blackest depths of the ocean. Whenever she tried to shift into something that could breathe underwater, her magic slipped away from her and dispersed into the dark.

Moondog wasn’t sure yet what this sort of nightmare meant, but at least fixing it was easy. Let the weight settle on the seabed (for orientation), break the chains (for freedom), give Ocellus gills (for safety), let her see in the dark (for navigation). She could’ve just given Ocellus her changeling powers back, but that was too typical. And Ocellus seemed to be having fun learning to swim the pony way.

Normally, that would’ve been that, but right before Moondog left, she remembered: what about Gallus? Had his dream study hour actually worked, giving her another tool for making good dreams? She hadn’t even remembered when taking a look at his dreams (although his lack of nightmares was so complete she wasn’t that worried). Ocellus would know. Moondog knew she really shouldn’t hang about, but sifting through Gallus’s memories would be so impersonal (and of questionable morality at best)…

whatTheHeck();dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

“Hi!” said Moondog, walking up to Ocellus on the seabed and glowing softly. “You doing alright?”

Ocellus twisted around in the water at the sound and the light. Her eyes widened. “Moondog! Hi!” she bubbled. She attempted to settle on the ground, but her buoyancy kept pushing her back up. “What’re you doing here?”

“Not letting you drown, for starters.” Moondog shrugged. “Really, that’s it. You had a nightmare that needed trouncing and I was available.” A pause. She bit her lip. “And…” She got right up in Ocellus’s face. “How’d Gallus do on his test?” she asked breathlessly.

“We didn’t get it back yet, but he feels like he did great.” Ocellus grabbed at some seaweed, to no avail. “And he’s not usually that confident, so I think he’s right.”

A little bit of anxiety loosened itself in Moondog’s chest. “Cool. Cool. Thanks.” She nodded. “That’s all I need, so-”

“Wait!” Ocellus gave up on trying to walk and simply swam. “Seeing Whinnyloo last night was really cool, although I don’t think the tap-dancing pikemares I saw after you left were historically accurate.”

“If Mom or I don’t keep a dream in line, it tends to wander,” said Moondog. “You were lucky it stayed on Whinnyloo.”

“But if you can do Whinnyloo, you can do other places, too!” said Ocellus eagerly. “Like, um…” She looked around and blurted, “Seaquestria! Twilight’s visit to Seaquestria during the Storm Invasion!”

Moondog tilted her head. “That, specifically? Why?”

“Because, um…” Ocellus’s elytra opened and closed twice. “I heard that later in the semester, we’re… studying the Invasion and I wanted to get a head start on it.” She said it tentatively, as if she were asking a question to see if Moondog would buy it.

buy(it);return: *SO* FALSE

“You just wanna see Twilight and the Elements visit Seaquestria, don’t you?”

“It’s the first pony-hippogriff contact in ages!” squealed Ocellus. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Did Twilight ever tell you how she got caught stealing a foreign culture’s national treasure?”

“Yeah. So? And could you stay here to make sure it’s accurate? Pleeeaaase?”

Ocellus and Applejack would probably get along well, Moondog suspected. They had the same stubborn focus. Moondog ran a hoof through her mane and said, “Okay, look. I can’t stay around long. I’ve got, like, the whole country to watch over.”

“But…?” Ocellus said, smiling.

“But…” Moondog took the underwater equivalent of a breath. “I guess I can do this once.” And it wasn’t that bad of an idea, to be honest. Just disruptive. Most ponies would love something like this. They just didn’t ask. “And I can’t stay around that long.”

“That’s fine!” said Ocellus. “I won’t need long!”

But from that glint in her eyes as the ocean froze into the former ruins of Mt. Aeris, Moondog suspected she wouldn’t stop here.

The next next night, whaddya know, Ocellus was having nightmares again. Moondog poked her nose into Ocellus’s dream, and… whoa.

“Phantasmagorical” didn’t begin to describe it. Even without looking too deeply, bricks flew on gelatin wings through a brown sky above a Ponyville where the pink ground was melting into the buildings (which were made out of tar) as various Everfree monsters puttered around doing bloodstained errands while wearing badly-made pony masks. And standing in the middle of the circular town square, trying not to freak out as a bugbear wearing a Caramel mask licked her, was Ocellus.

bugbear = NULL;dream.add(new SmallPlateau());

The bugbear vanished in a puff of plaid smoke and a stone shelf rose out of the ground beneath Ocellus to give her something solid to stand on. As she let out a sigh of relief, Moondog landed on the air next to her. “Mom would just love picking apart the symbolism in this,” said Moondog. (She really would. Mom adored the very idea of symbolism and could wax poetic about it for hours on end. Apparently, she was killer in several Canterlot book clubs.) She looked at Ocellus and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Oh, there’s no symbolism,” said Ocellus cheerfully. “I just heard that eating cheese too close to bedtime will give you bad dreams, so I ate a whole wheel. And it worked! Did you know that Salvannor Dalí ate Camembuck cheese to get inspiration from his nightmares?”

Moondog stared around them. “This happened from eating cheese?”

“Apparently!”

fileQuestion("Why does cheese cause nightmares?");fileQuestion("No, seriously, WHY?");

“I was hoping you’d stop by,” Ocellus continued, “since we’re studying King Sombra’s time as ruler of the Crystal Empire. Maybe you could-”

“Seriously?” said Moondog. “You want to go from this…” She spread her wings wide. “…to King Sombra’s rule?” She facehooved. “I make good dreams, not worse nightmares!”

“But I already know it turned out alright, so it’s not bad, just sad!” protested Ocellus. “And I just want to see what happened when Celestia and Luna banished him!”

Moondog blinked. “You know I… have stuff to do, right? That I’m responsible for Equestria’s dreams? I can’t keep coming around like this!”

“Well… yeah…” said Ocellus. Her ears drooped a tiny bit before springing back up. “But you can do it tonight, right? Just this once?”

Sighing, Moondog ripped the linoleum from the ground, exposing the snow of the Frozen North beneath. “Fine. Just this once,” she said. “Again,” she added under her breath.

The next next next night…

notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);readSpellMessage(sm);

Moondog,I know you have a lot on your plate, but do you think you could see me again? I'm only asking for a little bit of time! An hour would be fine.OcellusP.S. Wow! This spell even corrects my spelling!

SpellMessage oRsp = new SpellMessage();oRsp.compose();

Ocellus,I'm sorry, really, but I just don't have the time. No, not even for an hour. I have a lot of dreams to manage and can't justify taking time off every night to help somebody study for school, especially not when they're already a straight-A student. Look at yourself: you're already teaching yourself dream magic. From scratch. In less than a day. Seriously, that's incredible. What makes you think you need my help? I helped you the last two nights because I thought it’d be a one-time thing. Or two-time thing, whatever.MoondogP.S. Of course it does. You're writing stuff in a way so that your knowledge doesn't get screened out by junk in your conscious mind.

oRsp.send(ocellus);[…]notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);readSpellMessage(sm);

Moondog,Please? I know I don't need any help, but it'll be so much fun!OcellusP.S. What do you mean with that last part?

SpellMessage oRsp = new SpellMessage();oRsp.compose();

Ocellus,See this map? That's the area I have to protect. All of it. All night. That's not an exaggeration. Please just let me do my job.MoondogP.S. Write to Mom about it. She can explain it better than me, she'd love to get letters from her subjects, and she'd be over the moon (ha ha) to hear you're teaching yourself dream magic. She might even be more interested in helping you "study" that way.

oRsp.attach(equestria.getMap());oRsp.send(ocellus);[…]notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);sm.getSender();return: "Ocellus"sigh();readSpellMessage(sm);

Could you at least tell me how you did the thing with the map?

sm.shred();--Error; JerkMoveException e[…]notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);sm.getSender();return: "Ocellus"sm.shred();--Error; JerkMoveException e

The next next next next night…

notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);sm.getSender();return: "Twilight Sparkle"readSpellMessage(sm);

“I got your message,” Moondog said as she jumped into Twilight’s dream. “Is this about Ocellus?”

Twilight’s thought balloon popped, spraying rainbow highlighters everywhere. “Yes! How’d you know?”

Moondog sighed. “About a week ago, I helped Gallus study for a test — don’t look at me like that, I stayed out of anyone’s head! — and Ocellus helped with the helping. But my helping helped a little too much, and now she wants me to help her study, even though by helping her, I can’t help other people who need help with their dreams, and she doesn’t need helping anyway. She’s even taught herself dream magic to send messages and keep asking me about it! Which, okay, hooray for her, that’s crazy impressive, but how can someone like me manage to get junk mail?”

“Huh,” said Twilight. “So that’s what all those library visits were about. I’ll- Ocellus is teaching herself dream magic?! From books based on pony teaching methods? Why didn’t you say anything before? This is great! Not only is that quite a skill at her age, it’s definitive proof that those techniques are species-neutral!”

“Mom coulda told you that,” muttered Moondog, and she braced herself.

gushing.tolerate(40, TIME.Seconds);

Ripping open a book and leafing through it was so second-nature to Twilight that one had poofed into existence before her for just that purpose without her even trying. “Nimitybelle actually thought that was the case, you know,” she said casually. “That ponies weren’t anything special when it came to that sort of magic, but a sophont’s connection to the dream realm — she called it the astral plane, did you know that? — was all that mattered. That made her a bit of a pariah, if you can believe that.” Twilight put on an impeccable imitation of a high-society snoot she couldn’t have managed in the real world. “Ponies, not the top of the magical food chain? Oh! How prepossssssterous!” She snorted. “Anyway, since lucid dreaming is well-documented in griffons, dragons have stories about it, I’d bet money zebras have writing about it somewhere in the Library of Rakotiru- Because of all that, it’s become accepted that any species that dreams can use dream magic, but we were wondering if learning them in the same way-”

“OI!” Moondog clapped her hooves together with the sound of a cannon blast. “This about Ocellus!”

“But speculation is so fun!” Twilight still set the book down carefully. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“So Ocellus wants me to help her study,” continued Moondog, “and here’s the thing. If I didn’t need to help ponies with their dreams, I’d be just fine with hanging out with her. She’s a sweet kid and I hate to let her down, but I can’t give her the time she wants. Especially since she doesn’t really need it.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can see that. What did you help Gallus with?”

“History. Most of the teaching was all her, but Gallus was having trouble remembering stuff about the Neighpoleonic Wars, so I just turned into Neighpoleon and dropped them into Whinnyloo to give him the relevant facts amid artillery fire.”

“It must’ve worked, since Gallus almost aced that test. So…” Twilight clicked her tongue. “Ocellus had read parts of that report Starlight, Sunburst, and I wrote on you, especially the part about illusions, and reasoned that you could make an imitation of just about any historical event. So… she kinda wants you to sub and teach history for a day.”

“Hoo boy.” Moondog ruffled her mane. “She said something about me not working during the day, right?”

“Yep.”

“I mean, it’s not like third-shifters could use my help or anything while Mom’s asleep…”

“Okay, after all the studying I did of you, I know that’s just an excuse.”

“Well-!” protested Moondog, flaring her wings. “That was-! We needed to-! So I-”

self.setHonesty(100.0);

“-I just don’t like going outside, okay?”

Twilight smirked. “Nerd.”

“If the thing I’m nerding about is dream magic, then yeah! Totally! I’m willing to go into the real world if it’s for science or- a holiday or something, but I really don’t like the feel of it. I mean…” Moondog tugged at her mane and looked away. “I can if you want, but-”

“No,” Twilight said quickly. “I’m not going to make you do anything. I’ll just tell Ocellus you’re not available.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Although it’d be pretty neat if you did-”

“Not right now,” snapped Moondog. “Maybe it’ll be my birthday gift to you.”

“Or to Ocellus. Do you want me to talk to her about sending you messages?”

“No, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

Moondog and Ocellus sat side by side next to a river as Ocellus rambled on about… something. “…and then Sombra, he was all, ‘She shouldn’t have been let in!’ And Tempest said, ‘It wasn’t her fault!’ And she had the lasagna, so it wasn’t like…” To Moondog’s (somewhat surprising) disappointment, Ocellus wasn’t that great at achieving lucidity on her own — definitely not as good as Meadow — so she didn’t recognize their situation yet. It gave Moondog a few extra moments to get her thoughts together.

self.psychUp();dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);

“Hey,” said Moondog.

“…all the other pasta-” Ocellus stopped and looked at Moondog with big eyes. From shock or joy, it was hard to tell. She opened her mouth.

“I heard from Twilight. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your latest messages, but-”

“I’m sorry I sent you so many!” said Ocellus quickly. She tried to look away while also looking Moondog in the eyes (and managed an admirable job of it). “When you didn’t respond last night, I talked to Twilight about you yesterday, but then Silverstream pointed out that if you weren’t responding, you probably didn’t want to talk, and… I can… see why.” Her ears twitched. “Sorry.”

At least step one was going nicely. “Sorry for shutting you out,” said Moondog. “You didn’t deserve the silent treatment, but after getting so many messages from you, I just didn’t know what to do. So congratulations on being the first person in history to send dream junk mail. No, seriously, I really am kind of impressed. How’d you learn it so fast?”

In spite of the situation, Ocellus giggled. “I don’t know, it just sort of falls into place. I’m having trouble staying lucid, though, or else you’d’ve gotten even more letters.”

“Are you trying to be lucid? Don’t try. Just let it slip.”

“I’m letting it slip, but my mind’s sticky and won’t slip. Maybe that’s why I remember things so well.” Ocellus buzzed her wings once. “S-so, um, even if you can’t show me history every night, Twilight told you about subbing, right? I just thought- I know her report said that you didn’t like being in the real world, but maybe, just this once…” She made hopeful puppy-dog eyes so sweet it was amazing she didn’t turn into a puppy.

Moondog sighed. Stupid monobodied existence, having to let down a kid like this. She lightly poked the river, sending out a perfectly ordinary ring of ripples. “It’s more than just… not liking being outside. You know how, in the new and improved Hive, everyone loves you?”

Ocellus smiled dreamily and nodded. “Yeah…”

“You know how, back in the Hive before Thorax’s coup, no one gave two craps about you?”

Ocellus shuddered. “Yeah.”

“Now, which Hive do you think you belong in? The new one, where you can find food in every corner? Or the old one, where it got ripped away from you if you weren’t careful? Because that’s what dreams and reality are like for me. The outside world is just so…” Moondog grimaced. “…tough and draining. Like acid sandpaper.”

“Oh. Ouch.” Ocellus cringed. “I’m sorry. I just-” Her elytra sprang open as her voice sped up. “You coming out here would’ve been so cool! I was imagining the land around Whinnyloo all wrong and if you did that with other times, then…” She reddened a tiny bit and looked down. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “But I… Sorry for forgetting your royal duties.”

“To be honest, I don’t blame you.” Moondog nudged Ocellus with a wing. “When you’ve got some of Equestria’s greatest heroes as your teachers and guidance counselor, plus a princess for a headmare, it can be easy for you to forget how freaking weird it is. And I kinda started it, anyway.”

Ocellus kept staring at the river. “Yeah… but… Yeah.”

notify(self.getThoughts(), new Idea());

“So tell you what,” Moondog said, scratching Ocellus’s head. “Being outside’s not so bad that I won’t say ‘never’. If you’re on track to graduating summa cum laude when you begin your last year, I’ll put some serious thought into subbing, okay?”

“But…” Ocellus looked up at Moondog, frowning. “I’m already at the top of the class.”

Moondog smirked. “Ah, but can you stay there?”

Ocellus blinked. “Yes.”

“…For years?”

Ocellus’s voice was so blunt it could’ve been used as a hammer. “Yes.”

You had to do something when faced with confidence like that, and Moondog had a pretty good idea of what. “If you’re so sure, then this won’t distract you.” She sat down and spread her wings. “I’m yours for half an hour. Whaddya want?”

“Wait, really?” Ocellus beamed with surprise and buzzed into the air. “You mean it?” she asked, muzzle-to-muzzle with Moondog.

“Absotively. I can spare half an hour for one night. Not an hour every night. One night.”

“Wow! Then… Um…” Ocellus frowned and scratched her chin as the ground rose to meet her. “I wanna see how Twilight met her friends and first defeated Nightmare Moon,” she said eventually, and smiled hopefully up at Moondog.

“That? Really?” Moondog tilted her head. “You know that by heart, artery, and capillary.”

“Yeah, but I wanna see it.” Ocellus was nearly bouncing on her hooves.

“Well, it’s your time.”

dream.setStyle(SCENE);scene.getByKeyword("nightmare moon", "elements of harmony");scene.start();

The river unfolded apart right down the middle and the ground rushed away beneath Moondog and Ocellus. In its place sprang up a spacious neighborhood in Canterlot, where a certain lavender unicorn was reading next to a lake. “‘...and harmony has been maintained in Equestria for generations since.’ Hmm... Elements of Harmony. I know I've heard of those before... but where?”

“Twilight looks really weird without wings,” Ocellus said, almost disappointedly. Then: “Eeeeeeeeee! That’s Twilight before she became a princess! Eeeeeeeeee!” She ran up to Twilight and examined where her wings should’ve been. “She’s so small. This is accurate, right?”

As Moondog slowed down playback to give Ocellus more time to look and fought the urge to have an accordion-playing otter climb out of the lake, she said, “Pretty close. It’s made from her memories, so…” She shrugged.

When Twilight ran off to her tower to do research, Ocellus took the opportunity to look around. After a few seconds, her jaw dropped. “Twilight lived in Hayward Hills when she still lived in Canterlot?” she gasped. “Oh, gosh! That’s one of the most upscale neighborhoods in- in all of Equestria!”

“Yeah, being Princess Celestia’s pupil has its-”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

The scene froze as Moondog snapped to look at Ocellus. “-you know about Hayward Hills?”

“I read,” Ocellus said, shrugging. “A lot.”

At least dreams had the excuse of being built of non-sequiturs. “Like what, A Stupidly Specific Guide to Certain Canterlot Neighborhoods of Particular Wealth?”

“No, that one was checked out. I read Fodock’s Canterlot the first week I started school. I wanted to see Canterlot and that book was the next best thing.”

Moondog eyed Ocellus like she was going to spring another booby question, then resumed the scene. Twilight ran up the stairs to her house and barged in, asking for-

“Were all those bookshelves added after Twilight moved in,” asked Ocellus, “or did she move in because they were already there?”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException eself.findMemories("twilight", "bookshelves", "canterlot house");

“Yes,” said Moondog. “Like a third of them were already in and Twilight added the rest. With her own money, might I add.” She glanced down at Ocellus. “You know, if you keep asking questions like that, you’re gonna use up your half-hour before the Summer Sun Celebration starts.”

Ocellus flinched. “Alright. I’ll try to stay quiet.”

“How old is Spike?”

“Can a normal pony or changeling take a ride in a sky chariot, or is that just royalty?”

“Did Celestia pick the ponies in charge of the Celebration deliberately?”

“Where did all the Apples stay during the reunion?”

“How come Pinkie lives above Sugarcube Corner and the Cakes don’t?”

“Where did Nightmare Moon trap Celestia?”

“If there’s a reference guide to the Elements, how come…”

Oracle Machines and Archmages

Extract from the diary of Star Swirl the Bearded (used with debatable permission):

The transportation infrastructure of Equestria has advanced by leaps and bounds, even beyond what should be expected over more than a thousand years of absence. Travel from one side of the country to the other can be done in mere days without the aid of magic, not months with that aid (pegasi notwithstanding). I remain as astonished by it now as I was all those months ago when I first left limbo. And to think that ponies treat this with the same casual nonchalance of baked bread!

And since I still get the feeling every now and then: HOLY CRAP. TRAINS. How in the heavens can ponies be around them without panicking? They are gargantuan for their speed and make the most unsettling hissing noises. They tremble most disturbingly whenever they move, and I cannot shake the feeling that the engine is mere seconds away from rattling itself to pieces. Each and every thing about them SHOULD NOT WORK. And yet it does.

Most unfortunately, trains are the primary method of long-distance transportation in these days. They are both fast and alluringly cheap. I doubt I shall ever take them myself to any great extent; the potential danger is too much. Besides, hoof travel was acceptable a thousand years ago and I see no reason why it should not be acceptable now. It has served me well in my travels across modern Equestria. To ride trains is to flirt with danger.

“All aboard the Deadly Deathtrap of Death Express! Of Death!” the conductor yelled.

Train stations in Equestria were all the same, it seemed. A platform, some benches, a quaint roof, a lengthy building for… whatever the station needed. Star Swirl could see that much, even though this particular station had been completely bricked in, meaning the only way off was to get on the train.

The train where the engine was bulging, the pressure in the boiler was so high. Steam was leaking from every seam (and there were a lot of seams), whistling shrilly like some chipmunk’s dirge. Spikes lined the outside of the boiler, ready to fly out at exactly the wrong moment. Even as Star Swirl watched, a plate burst off the engine and one of the spikes embedded itself in a brick. He swallowed and tentatively took a step toward the train. The engine bulged even more.

Again, he attempted to summon his magic and leave. Again, it failed. Stupid dream logic.

“Trains? Really? Still?”

Star Swirl glanced to one side. An alicorn with a body of stars was staring at him with a look of concern on her face. She wasn’t his problem, so he turned back to the train. “That doesn’t matter. It’s going to explode. I know it is. There’s too much pressure in the boiler.” A screw shot out of the engine like a rocket and whistled through the air between them.

The alicorn clapped a hoof to her mouth, failing to suppress a snicker. “For such a smart guy, you can sure be stupid. The real ones have pressure-release valves all around the boiler, and- You know what, screw it.” She pulled a pin out from behind Star Swirl’s ear and tossed it at the train.

The locomotive popped like a balloon: harmlessly and done in an instant. A cloud of steam dispersed from where the engine had been. Star Swirl released a breath and collapsed onto a bench. The train was dead, thank the heavens. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.” The alicorn slapped a door on the wall like a sticker. “Anyway, name’s Moondog. Mom — Luna — made me to help her with dreams and said I should introduce myself to you. I kept saying I didn’t need to, since you hadn’t any bad dreams yet, but she kept saying-”

Star Swirl was barely listening. “Can I just have my dream? This is much better, thank you.”

“…Well, okay then, sure.” Moondog saluted. “Adios, amigo.” And she was gone.

Star Swirl stared at what remained of the locomotive. They were safe, he told himself. Ponies knew how they worked, he told himself. Twilight could probably talk about them for hours, he told himself. He was being silly, he told himself. One of these days, one of these days, he would teach himself just how trains worked so he could use them to get around the country in a reasonable amount of time without exhausting himself through teleportation.

Later, though. Much, much later.

I had an odder dream than usual last night. During a most heinous nightmare, an individual that looked like an ethereal alicorn entered my dream, dispelled the cause of my distress, and introduced herself as ‘Moondog’, claiming to be a construct created by Princess Luna to assist her in her nightly duties. I was too relieved for much conversation, so she swiftly left. I had no more nightmares for the rest of the night and that particular dream yet remains in my mind with an unusual clarity, as if it truly happened.

Assuming she existed and was not merely an image my panicked mind conjured, the individual twisted dreams with a skill to rival Luna’s. Perhaps she truly was a construct; if so, I envy Luna’s abilities. Golem creation was greatly difficult in my time, yet this one not only seemed intelligent, but colloquial to the point that one might say she was truly al

oh stars above

A powerful surge of magic blasted open the doors to Luna’s bedroom, revealing Star Swirl behind. “You created life?” he yelled.

Creating life was (or at least had been) one of those things in magic you Did Not Do. Mostly because nopony knew a darn thing about it. What kind of mind would a magically-birthed intelligence have? Would it try to put itself above ponies or just become the best dang stamp collector it could? What if the latter and it learned that killing ponies somehow enabled it to collect stamps more quickly? Paranoia and caution clung to each other so tightly you couldn’t separate them, and so most ponies who were probably capable of it decided to not even try, just to be safe. And here Luna was, throwing a created being directly into ponies’ minds. Not exactly the greatest of ideas.

This being the middle of the day, Luna took the demand with an exquisite lack of gravitas. “Many mares do, at some point in their existence,” she mumbled. She rolled over in bed and blinked owlishly at him, if that owl were supremely drunk. “Some stallions, too, if a spell goes wrong. Or right, depending on how one looks at it.”

Star Swirl marched up to Luna’s bed and tried to glare angrily at her. Given who she was, she probably didn’t even notice. “You created life.”

Luna pulled her sheets over her head. “It was an accident.”

“You created life accidentally?”

“That is remarkably common in this day and age. An experiment in automation grew in scope beyond what I anticipated. I took responsibility.”

Star Swirl ripped her sheets away; the sole reason Luna’s resentful glare didn’t vaporize him on the spot was because her eyes were too bleary to properly focus it. As it was, he still swore he felt his beautiful beard crisping. Yet he forged on. “Even if creating life weren’t banned-”

“It is not! Has not been for six hundred years!” Luna wrenched her sheets back and curled into a little pillbug-esque ball. “Those laws were overturned.”

“-do you have any idea of the damage that… construct could’ve caused?”

“The second I learned she was alive, that was my first fear. It was unfounded.” The ball wiggled as Luna adjusted her wings. “Star Swirl, as pleased as I am to see you once more, it is noon and I am tired. Or would you prefer to continue this conversation with me barging in on you at midnight?”

Had Star Swirl been wise rather than merely smart, he might’ve realized the implications of Luna hearing about creating life and still being more concerned with sleep. “If I accidentally let loose a self-aware construct on Equestria, I should hope you’d wake me up!”

“ ’Twas no accident, nor was Our daughter ‘let loose’. She is absolutely safe.” Luna poked a hoof out from her ball and angrily jabbed it in something resembling Star Swirl’s general direction. “Disturb not Our slumber any longer, O miserable stot, lest We unleash Our tireless progeny upon thee, such that she may turn thy nightly reveries to maelstroms of torment. Thy princess is in dire need of rest.”

“I simply wish to-”

“DIRE!” Luna’s horn sparked, and by the time Star Swirl had dug himself out of the castle’s garbage pile, he had decided it was in his best interests to not anger one of the Prime Movers. But maybe the other one would listen.

Star Swirl managed to catch Celestia at lunch, reading the paper and daintily devouring an apple. He cleared his throat but didn’t gain her attention. “My Princess, are you aware that-”

“Almost certainly.” Chew.

“…Are you aware that your sister-”

“Most likely.” Munch. Celestia didn’t even glance at him.

“…Specifically, that she-”

“Probably.” Chomp.

“-that she created life?”

“Yes, and my usually-niece is quite the little workaholic. I barely have any time to dote on her and annoy Luna. Even if I had the time, she wants to be the one to spoil me, not the other way around.” Celestia looked around the newspaper and smiled most punchably at Star Swirl. “I did say, ‘almost certainly’.” Wink, bite, and back behind the paper.

Star Swirl blinked. Celestia had been a mite sassy in his time, but a thousand years had apparently let it grow and allowed her to hone it to a razor’s edge. “I want to talk. With you. Now.”

“Which you’re doing. With me. Now.” Crunch. That was an incredibly crispy apple.

“You know I meant face-to- Why are you even reading the papers? You can get your news far more quickly through your officials!”

“I’m reading the comics. Raven’s an excellent aide, bless her to the highest heavens, but she has no sense of comedic timing. Now, hush. Trotterson’s finally back from his sabbatical.” Snack.

Star Swirl stared at Celestia. “Princess, I-”

Celestia clapped a hoof to her mouth and choked back laughter. “By the fates, that’s terrible,” she giggled. “That’s wonderful.”

“Are you paying me any attention?”

“Certainly.” Snap. “Everything you’ve said, I already know. You come to me, declare that Luna has created life, and say nothing more. What am I supposed to say? Of course I know she’s created life. But you haven’t given me anything else to worry about or discuss yet.”

“And you don’t think this is worthy of discussion?” Star Swirl pointed out the door. “Luna said this was an accident. Very well. What happens with her next accident? What if that one isn’t so complaisant? What if-”

Celestia sighed and folded the newspaper. Star Swirl took a step back when she looked him in the eye. “Star Swirl. Do you trust Luna?” Her voice had gained a slight weight.

“Yes, but-”

“Do you trust Luna?”

Star Swirl swallowed. “…Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“And I also trust Luna. Now, do you really think that if this construct, Moondog, were a problem, Luna would have let her continue on freely like this? Or that I would also just stand by and watch?”

Another swallow. “…No.” The fact that he could tell Luna she created life and she didn’t start panicking or asking what was wrong should’ve been a warning sign.

“So do you think it’s possible that you may simply be overreacting?”

Star Swirl nibbled on a stray beard hair. “…I admit that may be the case.”

“I can’t really blame you,” said Celestia, her voice softening. “I had a similar reaction to yours when I first learned of her. But once I took a step back, I realized that Luna had it under control and I shouldn’t have worried. Even if she still has trouble communicating important information at times.” Her wings twitched. “Send her a note saying you want to talk about Moondog and she’ll gladly do so on her own time. Until then, Twilight and some of her friends did a study on Moondog for her. If you want to read their findings, you can find a copy in the castle archives. Ask for the ‘dream pony report thing’, they’ll know what you’re talking about.” She pulled her paper back up. “Just be warned: it’s… exhausting.”

Actual written records? Perfect. Most science came down to bookkeeping. Ultimately, the main difference between Meadowbrook designing some new, valuable potion and novice alchemists looking for new ways to get plastered was that Meadowbrook’s notes were better. “Very well.” Star Swirl inclined his head to Celestia. “I could do with some reading for now. Perhaps I can finish it off before tonight.”

Celestia’s grin was far more punchable than before, if such a thing were possible. “Trust me. You won’t.” Masticate.

The archivist dropped a three-inch-thick book on Star Swirl’s desk with a THUD. “An Oneiroturgic Analysis of the Tulpa Known as Moondog,” she gasped, “by Princess Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst. Part 1, Volume 1.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“Part 1,” Star Swirl muttered to himself. The book had a boring cover, the academic kind meant to show mainly the title and author (authors, in this case) that assumed the reader already knew what they were looking for. Or maybe it was just cheaper; it already looked like it was straining the limits of bookbinding technology. “How many volumes make up this part?”

“Three.”

“And how many parts in the whole set?”

The archivist winced. “Twenty-four.”

“Ah.” Star Swirl flipped open to the first few pages. The table of contents was four pages long. A bit lengthy, but not too bad… until he noticed it was just the table of contents for the real table of contents. The actual table was a good thirty pages, give or take. “…This is also one of the shorter parts, isn’t it?”

“Gee, how’d you guess?” The archivist snorted. “We only have one copy of the whole thing and it still takes up two entire shelving units. Not single shelves, mind you! Whole units, floor to ceiling!”

“Can you show me where? I thought I’d be able to jump around more easily and I’d rather not bother you with getting tome after tome.”

“Absolutely, sir. If you’ll just follow me…”

I swear, this “report” is a maze in a textual form. Each section references at least five others, both before and after, with books so heavy one could use them for ballast on a ship. Roughly half of the most commonly-used terms were made up solely for this report; the glossary alone is its own section (and more closely resembles a dictionary). Each important equation requires four or five proofs to be coherent, each with numerous lemmas.

And the worst part is I cannot think of a better way to organize it. The magic that has gone into constructing this Moondog is… mind-boggling in its complexity. It has been long since magic confounded me, yet each page of these books requires multiple readthroughs to be understood. Of course, golem magic such as this was a dream back in my time (perhaps it technically remains so; Moondog is a creature of dreams, after all!) and it is not hard to gather that this is advanced magic even now. Such extensive, winding explanation is needed to keep the text merely bewildering rather than hopeless. With every paragraph, I can detect the whiff of an editor with an inky cleaver, chopping off word after needless word in a vain attempt to reach some concise, readable state. It is probably a miracle the collection is this short to begin with.

Therefore, I feel no shame in abandoning my efforts before I am one percent of the way through. The time on my hooves is not limitless! My work on that particular spell remains stymied.

In any case, I have sent Luna a letter apologizing for my earlier behavior and asking for a better time to discuss Moondog. My earlier thoughts and worries already feel quaint; besides Luna’s and Celestia’s own arguments, Moondog destroyed my nightmare within seconds on her own initiative. She seems, at the very least, friendly to our kind. (And if Friendship University had been remotely competent, I certainly would have realized that earlier.) Still, even if she is safe, that does not mean I am uninterested in learning.

Alone at his table, Star Swirl examined the menu before him, but couldn’t bring himself to think about what to order. Something was off about… everything, really. Maybe it was the way there was no ground outside the window, only a mountain range far below. Maybe it was the way there were tablecloths, but no tables. Maybe it was the way the other customers seemed to be the same three or four ponies, repeated over and over. Maybe it was the way he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to this restaurant — whatever it was named — in the first place. And those were just the immediate issues. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what was up, though.

When he reached the last menu item, his suspicions were all but confirmed.

“She has quite the sense of humor, does she not?”

The timing was too precise for Star Swirl to be shocked when he looked up. Luna was sitting across from him in her usual regalia, her face expressionless. Star Swirl gave as good a bow as he could manage while sitting down. “One could say that,” he replied. “I suppose this counts as you barging in on me at midnight?”

Luna smiled a little. “I am afraid not. ’Tis only 11:30.”

“I could’ve done this while awake, you know.”

“Of course I know. I merely wanted to get Moondog involved as well.”

As if on cue, a starry hoof reached out from nowhere and pushed the air aside like a curtain. Moondog stepped out, clad in a waiter’s uniform. “Good evening, sir and madam,” Moondog said, bowing, “my name’s Moondog and I’ll be your reality warper for tonight.” It was hard to take her smile as anything but genuine. “What’ll it be?”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Surprise me.”

“Ehm…” Star Swirl blinked at Moondog. Was she really…? Just like that? “N-nothing for me, thank you,” he said.

“Sure thing.” Moondog saluted. “Be back in a sec.” She stepped away from the table and vanished.

His experiences in the past day had taught Star Swirl the idiocy of making snap decisions, and yet… “You brought her in to wait on us hoof and tail?”

“It was her idea. I proposed a simple talk in the collective unconscious. She insistently suggested all this…” Luna made a vague gesture around them. “…extravagance.”

The air unzipped next to the table and Moondog poked her head out. “You gotta admit, it’s a lot more fun!” And she was gone again.

Luna rolled her eyes once more. “And she also wanted to make us comfortable. I keep reminding her that she does not need to make good dreams for literally every pony she meets, and she keeps not listening.”

“As if helping ponies is a bad thing!” Space distorted into Moondog carrying two plates. She deposited the cauliflower-and-cheese dish in front of Luna, while Star Swirl got-

“What is this?” he asked, staring at the blob of… inexplicableness in front of him. It was vaguely bread-loaf-shaped, as far as he could tell, but it lacked color. Not in the “gray and monochrome” sense, but literally colorless, without even black or white. He tried to touch it, but his hoof passed right through it.

“It’s nothing!” said Moondog. “Just like you asked for!” Her grin was almost as punchable as Celestia’s had been. Luna snorted some cauliflower out of her nose.

It might’ve been nothing, but when Star Swirl attempted to carve it up with a knife, the lack of it was carved. Curiosity got the better of him and he ate it. It tasted like nothing. Which was a bit spicier than he was expecting.

“So now what?” Moondog sat down at the table without needing a chair. “This is your show, Mom, I’m just here ’cause you asked me to be.”

Luna turned to Star Swirl. “Well? What did you wish to discuss?”

Star Swirl looked back and forth between Luna and Moondog. While the situation wasn’t unwelcome, it wasn’t what he’d planned on. Maybe- “Could I speak with each of you individually? It would be more personal.”

“Certainly,” said Luna. She glanced at Moondog. “If-”

“Yep, I’m fine with it.” Moondog sprang from her lack of chair. “You go first and I’ll manage the dream realm until you’re done. Any particular spot you want me to start on?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Alrighty. Just say the word and I’ll be back for whatever you need.” Moondog puffed her chest out and saluted. “Adios, madre y amigo.” She disintegrated into a sparkling haze.

Luna turned her attention to Star Swirl, but said nothing. He cleared his throat and said, “My Princess, I deeply apologize for this morning, both what I said and my actions. The… episode with Stygian should have reminded me that I can be hasty to jump to conclusions and slow to discard preconceived notions. Thankfully, this situation was not quite so dire.”

“Just like that?” Luna’s voice was slightly amused.

“I had a day to think and Celestia was very persuasive. I imagine you would be more so if you had been awake.”

“Very good.” Luna inclined her head. “You are forgiven.” She devoured a head of cauliflower and licked the cheese from her lips. Pushing the still-full plate towards Star Swirl, she asked, “Would you like some? It cannot go to your thighs.”

Some small part of Star Swirl registered that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted something in a dream before tonight. Time for a learning experience. He stabbed the cauliflower and chewed; it was nearly indistinguishable from the real thing, from the somewhat-bland taste of the cauliflower to the richness of the cheese. “Do you do this often?” he asked, looking around. “Simply make yourself a relaxing night out?”

Luna snorted. “Of course not. Moondog handled most of it, by her own volition. Were I to do this on my own, I would not merely be the customer, I would also be the waiter. And the cooks. And the chef. And the sommelier. And the architect. And the interior decorator. And the janitor. And… you follow. Hardly relaxing. On top of all of that, my meals leave something to be desired.”

She absently held up a hoof at some unseen waiter. The air unfolded into a wine bottle, which poured out a wine glass and filled that glass with wine. Once Luna drew her hoof away, the bottle vanished. It reappeared next to Star Swirl and poured him a glass as well.

“She always gets taste better than I,” mused Luna. She swirled the wine around in her flute, staring at it. “I cannot imagine how. I was unaware she was even capable of tasting.” She took a drink. “Try it. And be honest about the taste; I know ’tis… lackluster.”

Star Swirl looked dubiously at his glass, then braced himself and took a sip. The wine wasn’t bad, but it was a little stale and lacked richness. “It’s acceptable,” he said. “It tastes like it was taken from the cellar a decade early, but it could be worse.”

Luna’s face was impassive. “It could certainly be better, too.” Somewhere, a bell pealed — a peal in which Star Swirl swore he heard words of some kind — and a moment later, a hole opened up in the space above them. In the space of a second, Moondog reached down from the hole, yoinked their glasses away, reverse-yoinked identical glasses with identical wine into their places, and closed up the hole behind her. Luna didn’t bat an eye, but instead took a drink. A much longer drink than she had with her own wine.

When Star Swirl tried his, there was no contest. The wine was rich but not too rich, fruity but not too fruity, relaxing but not too relaxing, with an elusive aftertaste he couldn’t describe, the taste equivalent of seeing something out of the corner of his eye. It was among the best wines he’d tasted.

When Luna put her glass down, she was smiling with pride. “Exquisite, isn’t it? She has never even had wine, and I thank the fates for that.” She chuckled. “Still, she has much to learn. She can be a bit blunt in her methods and it seems she only pays attention to the psychology of dreams when I remind her to.”

“But she-” Star Swirl changed his tack at the last second; Luna would know full well what he was trying to ask and, if anything, dancing around the issue would only leave her peeved. “She is capable of learning, yes?”

“Oh, most certainly. If you had seen her barely a month after her creation, you would not even consider the question. She…” Luna paused and her wings twitched, but she smiled a little. Star Swirl recognized this, although it’d been ages since he’d seen it; she was gleefully embarrassed. “Do you remember how, shortly after I was appointed Steward of the Night, I kept playing with the moon’s phases?”

Star Swirl didn’t even try to contain his laughter. “How could I forget? You nearly drove the selenologists to drink!”

“Moondog was like that. She knew the value of good dreams, but she did not truly comprehend it, so the dreams she made were often… overblown. Grandiose. Spectacular to look at, but not as useful in calming the mind as I would have liked. But while she certainly still has moments of flamboyance, she now either limits them to easily-missed touches-” Luna held up the menu. “-or ensures they have a genuine purpose. She truly grasps the importance of her work now far more than she once did. In the coming years, I have no doubt she will improve even further.”

Luna picked up her wineglass again and stared into it, her eyes growing distant. “I am… I am very proud of her. The ways she’s grown, the things she’s done, the way she’s always there if I require extra help…” She blinked a few times. “She was initially a mistake I decided to own up to. Now, I truly do think of her as my daughter.” She blinked again, rubbed her eyes, and took a hasty drink.

“You never seemed the motherly type to me,” said Star Swirl. Luna was certainly gentle and caring when she needed to be — she couldn’t manage dreams without being so — but her default setting had always been a little aggressive.

“Nor to myself, until the day Moondog was born. Fortunately, we skipped over the problem phases.” Luna pulled her plate back and gobbled down another head of cheesy cauliflower. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “If you have no more questions, I think it is a fine time for Moondog and I to change places.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like that very much, yes.”

Luna got up from her chair. “Very well. I shall send for her. May your sleep be deep.” A door opened up in the air. Luna looked ready to step through it, only to turn around and swipe her cauliflower right before she left.

Once the door was gone, Star Swirl was left alone, sitting in a non-existent restaurant that, if he paid attention, seemed to be tilting slightly. The other ponies were running through the motions of talking, even though he couldn’t hear them beyond a vague background murmur. Moondog liked verisimilitude, it seemed.

The flame of the candle at his table abruptly turned purple, as did the smoke it cast. The white tendrils from candles at the other tables whipped around, gathering in an aisle across from Star Swirl. They twisted together, coalescing into strands of fine silk and twining into a magnificent dress wrapped around an invisible pony walking to the table. Half a moment later, the smoke from Star Swirl’s candle wiggled into a spiral and spun towards the dress. It moved through the empty space inside the dress, leaving behind traces of an alicorn’s body behind. As the smoke puffed away, more and more of it filled in the “outline”. By the time the figure had taken a seat opposite Star Swirl, she was a very solid alicorn in a regal white dress. It couldn’t have taken more than six seconds.

Moondog cleared her throat. “Whaddya think?” she asked. “Good entrance? Bad?”

“…It was perhaps a bit over-the-top,” said Star Swirl.

“Aww.” Her mane wilted.

“You could simply enter and exit the same way Luna does or you had done before.”

“Yeah, but that’s nowhere near as fun, is it?” Moondog said with a grin. “Anyway, you wanna start over? Go through the introductions again, for clean slate’s sake?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Silence fell. Pony and automaton looked at each other. It was strange, Star Swirl thought, that this… person wasn’t even meant to be seen and could take any form she chose, and yet had a pony as her “default” — and a highly generic pony, at that. If you went a bit farther and took her personality into account, Star Swirl was surprised she looked even remotely physically possible. In its own way, that said a lot about her.

Eventually, Moondog chuckled. “You can ask me questions, you know,” she said casually. She leaned back, one leg draped over the back of the chair. “Remember, Mom dragged me here, so I dunno what I’m going to say.”

“I’m not sure, either,” said Star Swirl. “You’re the first construct I’ve met that has been able to talk back.”

The floodgates opened. He’d been so concerned about the problems during the day that he had never considered the benefits. Yet here he had the first known self-aware arcane construct ever, one who was ready, willing, and able to help him. Star Swirl’s mind started buzzing like a hive as questions jockeyed for position. He settled on, “What was your childhood like? Or your first days?” One of the precarious parts of making self-aware constructs had always been making sure the resulting mind wouldn’t go rogue and turn homicidal, and the one sitting in front of him seemed perfectly safe.

Moondog went silent. And stayed silent. Sitting up straight again, she stared at the candle flickering between them. Had that been too much, too fast? As Moondog kept not answering, Star Swirl began squirming in his seat. “I… apologize,” he said, “if I-”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just trying to think of how to describe it. It’s…” Moondog shook her head. “Confusing. I knew from the beginning that I was made, if that’s what you’re looking for. That was one of the first things Mom taught me. I… I became…” She bit her lip. “…cognizant or self-aware or whatever when I was… about three weeks old. I can remember things before then, but… it’s like hearing of things you did as a baby that you can’t remember. There’s a weird disconnect between knowing the thing and experiencing it.”

“How did you… learn in those first days?”

“Technically, Mom beamed the stuff I needed to know right into my brain.” Moondog stuffed a hoof down an ear. “Before I ‘woke up’, I didn’t really know anything any more than a book knows what’s written in it or a spell knows its purpose. After I woke up, it was just there. Sorry I can’t be more detailed.”

“Really?” Star Swirl leaned forward slightly. “Fascinating.”

Memory had always interested Star Swirl, even outside of magic. Why was so little memory from childhood stored, for example? He’d always assumed it was one of those things that the future would understand. Then he went to the future and they understood far less than he had hoped, the gits. And it seemed even a construct with possibly-perfect recall could experience… dissociation.

For that matter, how did memory influence development? (Ponies these days had at least managed to fit that into a neat little phrase: “nature vs. nurture”.) Of course, any findings in this case would be absolutely inapplicable to ponies, but at least they’d be interesting. “And do you… ever wish you could do something else? Both Luna and Celestia implied you rarely slow down.”

“No,” said Moondog. “I don’t. It’s like- I have a purpose in life, a very clear purpose in life. I’m good at it. It makes life easier for Mom. It makes me happy, it makes others happy. I’m not hurting anyone. And I like doing it.” She spread her hooves. “Really, what more do I need? Besides, do you like making spells, in spite of the work?”

“I should hope one of history’s greatest wizards enjoys making spells!”

“Do you spend a lot of time making spells?”

“…Perhaps a bit more than I should, so yes.”

“Do you like seeing ponies use your spells?”

“Obviously.”

“Swap ‘spells’ with ‘dreams’, and there you go: that’s me. Making something like this…” Moondog swept a hoof around the room. “…lets me stretch my creative muscles. Which are pretty much the only muscles I have.” She peeled back the coat on one of her legs, exposing nebulaic structures inside that looked nothing like muscles. “See?”

“They are certainly well-exercised.” For the first time, Star Swirl examined the restaurant. It was astonishingly detailed and richly colored. In real life, this restaurant would’ve been very much a high-class establishment. Then he glanced out the window, at the mountains beyond. “The lack of ground is a bit much, though.”

Moondog frowned. “The lack of ground?” She followed his gaze. “No, the ground’s right there. See it?”

“Yes, and it is far below where it should be.”

Moondog tilted her head. “We’re- in- It’s called an airship, dude. Look it up.”

“An… airship?” Star Swirl remembered the word being used, but he didn’t have any image to attach it to. Surely they couldn’t mean-

“You haven’t seen- No, this one you need to find out for yourself. It’ll be cooler that way.”

“I… see.” Star Swirl recognized that tone (mostly from himself, annoyingly enough); he wasn’t going to get any more information about airships from Moondog. But when too many further questions to pick just one materialized, he said, “I’m not keeping you, am I?”

“Weeellllll…” Moondog wiggled a hoof noncommittally. “Not really. I technically have work, but Mom knows I’m talking with you, so I can stay longer if you need me to.”

“I…” Question after question ran through Star Swirl’s head, begging him to ask it. He’d be perfectly content to sit here and quiz Moondog all night. But then he remembered last night, the way Moondog had literally popped his nightmare like a balloon. He couldn’t keep Moondog from doing the same for others, could he? (Well, okay, he could. He absolutely could. But he shouldn’t.) “I shouldn’t keep you from your duties. May we pick this up some other night? Say, two days from now.” If nothing else, it’d let him organize his questions a bit more.

“Oh, definitely. Two nights is fine. See you then. Feel free to order something before this dream falls apart, by the way.” Moondog clapped her hooves twice and a waiter appeared next to them, notepad at the ready.

“But seriously, try something.” Moondog began to unravel like she was a mummy’s wrappings being pulled away. “I put a lot of work into this and I’d hate for it to go unused.” The last of her head was yanked away, but her mouth remained floating in the air. “Taste is harder than you think.” Moondog smiled in a way that probably would’ve been friendlier if there’d been anything more than a smile, then vanished in a puff of purple smoke.

Star Swirl looked at the waiter, at the menu. If Moondog wanted to indulge him, then he might as well indulge. He flipped over to the dessert side. After a moment of thought, he said, “Beg pardon, could I get a Death by Chocolate? As literal as possible, if you please.”

“CALLED IT!” Moondog screamed from the air.

I thought Moondog was kidding when she said the lack of ground wasn’t her creation. I was wrong.

HOLY CRAP. AIRSHIPS. WHAT THE DEUCE.

Magfault

Drunken philosophical ramblings had nothing on dreamy, stream-of-consciousness philosophical ramblings.

“…and you know who else organizes like the best of ’em?” said Golden Gleam, gesturing with his soda-filled wine glass. “Ants! You know who else is everywhere in spite of attempts by supposedly more powerful species to stomp them out? Ants! You know who else has a social, caste-based civilization that keeps marching on without a care for disasters and is centered around powerful females for the group?”

“Aunts?” suggested Moondog.

“No, ants,” enunciated Gleam. “The one with no silent letters.” He took a long drink of cola.

Gleam was a night watchstallion, spending his afternoon sleeping off a shift. Moondog liked managing daytime dreams more than she liked to admit, mostly because the lighter workload gave her time to relax a bit and, say, listen to a nonlucid pony’s ramblings on why ponies and ants were a lot alike.

“We’re all ants, mare!” said Gleam. “Evolved ants!” He wiped her mouth down. “I mean, how many other chordates have six limbs?”

“Griffons, hippogriffs, dragons, manticores, changelings-”

“Changelings aren’t chordates,” interrupted Gleam. “So you see? None!”

Moondog didn’t bother hiding her grin. Gleam wouldn’t notice it. “So ponies are ants. Are you saying we need to treat ants with respect, now?”

“No, I’m saying that all stallions in Equestria should be part of the princesses’ reverse harems.”

“Including you?”

“What part of ‘all’ don’tcha get?” Gleam pursed his lips and tilted his head. “I think Luna would disappreciate me the least. She’s the most punchy.”

Moondog wasn’t sure about how Mom would feel about this, but hey; what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right? “If you insist,” Moondog said, shrugging. She downed champoney from a beer stein.

create(momCopy);--Error; UnknownException e

If she’d been solid, Moondog might’ve choked from the shock. She’d sent out the usual wispy tendrils of magic, but something — something she’d never felt before — had yanked them away almost as soon as they’d left her, yanked them violently and painfully, taking far more than she’d meant to use. It was like she’d cleaned out her pores with a pressure washer. She was left shivering, gasping for breath that she didn’t need.

Yet right next to them, a copy of Mom appeared out of the air, just like she’d wanted. Although the moon on her peytral was facing the wrong direction and her mane wasn’t as sparkly as it should’ve been. “Mom” sidled up to Gleam and put a hoof on his shoulders. “You. You are mine. Tia isn’t getting you. She has thousands already!”

Gleam didn’t even glance at her. “All right.” Sip.

Moondog wasn’t watching. What was that? What had dispersed her magic like that? Nothing Mom had mentioned. Nothing Moondog had ever encountered in other ponies’ memories. And was it all spells?

momCopy.feedLines(testing);--Error; UnknownException e

“Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3,” said “Mom”. “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? A woodchuck would chuck as mach wold as blah bleh wleh.” “Mom” made a face, shook her head, and started over. “A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.”

“Which is about seven hundred pounds on a good day with the wind at his back,” added Gleam.

Moondog paid them little attention; she just grit her teeth as her magic was torn away from her. That wasn’t right. Dream projections should’ve been able to say that line flawlessly. Had the spell gotten corrupted somewhere along the line? She eyed Gleam and “Mom”, deep in conversation about redecorating Canterlot Castle. Could she personalize the dream at all? Set the color of his glass to his favorite?

dreamer.getFavoriteColor();--Error; UnknownException e

Moondog rubbed her head, already loathing the wonderful new experience of migraines. No color and no dice. Seriously, that was one of the most trivial spells she knew. Why couldn’t she do that?

After giving Gleam one last look, Moondog quietly slipped out. She didn’t need to do anything more here and she needed to learn more about what was going wrong. She didn’t think it was her spells; they’d been working perfectly fine beforehoof. Maybe it was just something to do with Gleam? Maybe it wasn’t every pony?

It was every pony.

No matter which dream Moondog went into, any effort at tweaking it meant her magic was pulled away, like she was being skinned alive. Not only that, nightmares about a lack of control were popping up with alarming frequency. Pegasus wings disappearing mid-flight, unicorn magic turning on the caster, earth ponies starving to death when their crops inexplicably withered. Moondog did her best, but each tweak drove another nail into her and was quietly off in some way. The colors weren’t right, or the air was too cold, or the time dilation was too dilated, or the bricks were out of alignment. Moondog wasn’t remotely worried about ponies noticing, but those could be small symptoms of a big problem.

What was going on?

Moondog had tried to reach Mom, but she wasn’t in the dream realm. She’d probably been awoken to help deal with… whatever. Mom could do it. Of course she could. But Moondog kept trying to ping her with tracking spells, ready to go to her the moment she returned.

When the moment came, Moondog, grateful to get out of the acid bath that was other ponies’ dream, plunged into her dream and came to a stop in a Canterlot Castle infested with vines. Nopony seemed to mind, least of all Mom. “Be a dear and fetch the fertilizer, will you, Raven?” she asked an aide. “The throne vineyard is looking a little pale.”

Moondog glanced at one of the vines. Green, like most plants. She poked nervously at it.

vine.setColor(COLOR.Red);--Error; UnknownException e

A sort of splotchy red that should’ve been uniform rippled down the vine. Most of the time it was crimson, sometimes it was orange-y, a select few times it was looking dangerously close to yellow. Moondog swallowed and ran up to Mom. “Uh, hey, Mom?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

When Mom looked at Moondog, there was something flat in her gaze, like she didn’t really know what was happening. “We’re tending the vines, letting the earth ponies do their part,” she said in a water-is-wet sort of voice. “What does it look like?”

“No, I mean outside.”

Mom tilted her head. “More vine-tending in the garden, although those are more colorful. What else? And what are you doing in the real world?”

Moondog blinked. “Mom, I- I’m not. You’re dreaming.” But she began to feel very cold.

“Pfft. I am most certainly not dreaming,” snorted Mom. “I would know.”

“What? You’re-” Moondog facehooved. “…not lucid. Figures.”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

Moondog gagged as the worst pain yet swept over her, needles driving into her wings. She hadn’t even managed to touch Mom’s mind before her magic splintered and vanished. Mom stared at her, increasingly concerned, yet not in the way she should’ve been. “Are you hurt? Perhaps you should re-enter the dream realm.”

“No, it’s- I am in dreams! Yours! Look-”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

Another failed spell, another bout of pain. Why couldn’t she make Mom lucid?

“Your Highness? I’ve got the fertilizer right here.”

“I’ll be with you shortly,” called Mom. “Moondog, can you walk and talk? I have urgent matters that need to be attended to.” She set off towards the far end of the throne room.

Moondog ran in front of her and put a hoof on her chest to stop her. One last chance. “Mom, listen,” she said, her voice strained. “There’s something going on with the dream realm and I don’t know what.” Sometimes, talking with ponies could jar them into lucidity without any magic on her part. Hopefully… “Working with dreams is painful and my magic’s getting pulled away by something and my spells aren’t working quite right when they land and I don’t know if I can keep working with dreams if this keeps up, so if you-”

But Mom slapped her away. “Moondog, I am busy,” she said in a voice of iron. “I can get to you in time. Until then, there is nothing so important that it cannot wait.” She stalked away, her head held high.

Moondog didn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, staring after the pony that was and wasn’t her creator. “Mom,” she whispered. “Mom, please…”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

“I… I don’t know what to do…”

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException edreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException edreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

Mom was a constant. It wasn’t fair. Mom was a constant.

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

But she wasn’t.

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

Curled up in a barely-coherent corner of nonimportance, Moondog watched the dream play out without her input and Mom performed whatever role her brain was conjuring. Nothing Moondog did affected her lucidity. She stayed locked up in her little bubble of self-unaware consciousness. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she helping with dreams? Why was she sleeping normally? Why hadn’t she even sent a message?

dreamer.allowLucidity(TRUE);--Error; ObjectOutOfBoundsException e

It was something outside. It had to be. Something was affecting ponies’ links with the dream realm, at the bare minimum. Probably more. It’d be the source of all the other current nightmares. Mom hadn’t sent a message before because she hadn’t known, and she didn’t send a message now because she couldn’t. She probably couldn’t enter the dream realm through her usual magic. And even if she could, she probably couldn’t dreamhop.

Then Moondog realized: she was alone.

If she couldn’t make Mom, of all ponies, lucid, she couldn’t make anypony lucid. Moondog wasn’t a chatty sort of automaton, but she needed lucidity for a conversation about what in Tartarus was going on. Or any conversation at all. But all across the dreamscape, that was impossible. Ponies would only see her as a flight of fancy and she couldn’t convince them otherwise. Such was the nature of dreams. She had absolutely no one. Unless the million-to-one odds fell in her favor and she just so happened to stumble on a lucid-

Meadow.

She’d learned dream magic. She knew lucidity. If anypony could tell Moondog about what was going on, it’d be her. Which wasn’t very reassuring.

Moondog stood up, flexed her wings, and looked at Mom. Physically, Mom was almost certainly okay. That wasn’t much of a comfort when Moondog couldn’t even talk to her. “Stay safe, Mom,” she whispered.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=4d6f6f6e6c6974204d6561646f77&lucid=y");--Error; UnknownException e

Moondog gasped and flexed her wings. She was in Meadow’s dream — some sort of crowded marketplace — but something had gone wrong. With the way things were going lately, she’d failed to make Meadow lucid. A bit of poking and she found Meadow, walking straight through the crowd with her nose in a book. Moondog ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey. Hey, Meadow.”

“Not now,” said Meadow. “I’m busy.” She batted Moondog’s hoof away and didn’t look away from her book.

Not lucid. Maybe Moondog could change that. Maybe. First, she needed Meadow’s attention on her.

crowd = NULL;--Error; UnknownException e

The pain nearly knocked Moondog flat, but most of the crowd still vanished. A few more pushes, and they were all gone. All except for Meadow. She looked up and twitched. “Hello?” she called out. “Where’d everypony go?”

Moondog swallowed. “Meadow? You’re dreaming. I need to talk to you so you need to be lucid. You’re dreaming.”

Meadow whirled around, but it was easy to tell that she was still caught up in the dream. “Who’re you?” she asked, her voice bold. “Where did you take everyone?”

Deep breath. “Meadow, it’s me, it’s Moondog. You’re dreaming. C’mon, get lucid!”

“Well, of course I’m dreaming,” said Meadow, “I don’t know… why…” She blinked, a spark of recognition flaring in her eyes. “Wait… I am dreaming, aren’t I? So-”

self.setRelief(100.0);

“Yeah,” said Moondog. “Listen, Meadow, is something going on in the real world? Dreams are acting up, like my spells aren’t working right.”

“Um…” Meadow folded her ears back. “I don’t know. I heard something about magic being drained or something. Dad’s spells and other unicorn magic keep failing, so I guess that might be what’s up? Mom and Dad don’t know, either. It’s- Everypony’s scared and I don’t think anypony really knows what’s going on.”

“Oh,” said Moondog dully. “Super.”

“But why are you asking me? Can’t you ask, like, literally anypony else?”

“I wish. The parts of my magic that are going wrong include making ponies lucid. Since you can lucid dream without my help, you’re practically the only person in the world I can talk to. Everyone else, they’re…” Moondog made some vague gesture off into the distance. “I’m just a part of their dream. They can’t recognize me. Not- Not even Mom. Any time I try to reach into Equestria to pull their mind here, my magic gets destroyed.”

She flexed her wings and kept babbling. “And that’s not all. Dreams are- It’s like something about them just poof, changed. They’re resisting me changing them, and it hurts when I do change them, and I’m having trouble with personalization, and-” She hung her head in her hooves and mumbled, “I’m having trouble doing the thing I was made for. I have one job and- I was good at making dreams, you know. I could just waltz in, do what needed to be done, and tango out in seconds. Now I- If I can’t handle this, what good am I?” She kicked at nothing in particular.

Meadow put a hoof to her mouth in horror. “Oh, Celestia, that’s terrible.”

“I- I’m really sorry to drop this on you, but I don’t know what to do. Dreams are all weird, I can’t talk to Mom about it, I barely even know what’s going on, and nopony else in the world would recognize me. I just-” Moondog curled up on the ground. “I think I just need a shoulder to cry on.”

“Oh. Um.” Meadow curled up next to Moondog and leaned against her. “I’m. I can do that, I guess. …Am I doing this right?”

“Good enough.” Moondog draped a wing over Meadow’s withers. “Thanks.”

Now that she finally had some idea of what was going on, Moondog could force herself to stop and think. Getting to Mom or anyone else who didn’t know lucid dreaming was impossible. And magic getting drained explained the pain; whenever she reached into somepony’s dreams to actively change it, as opposed to just existing passively inside it, her magic briefly connected with the real world’s and started getting pulled away. Not at any great rate, thank goodness — even keeping up her normal activities, she’d probably still be hale and hearty for at least a decade — but still.

So could she do it? Keep working with dreams even though she couldn’t do it right and they were slowly and painfully killing her? Even Mom couldn’t do it anymore. Moondog suspected she’d have to learn all sorts of new techniques to get dreams to work right, without any help from anypony. It wasn’t like-

“What did you do when Tirek was around?” Meadow asked suddenly. “He’s, I know it’s not the same, but-”

“I wasn’t around when Tirek was here.” And Tirek only drained ponies’ magic, not all magic in Equestria. Moondog still should’ve been able to make dreamers lucid.

“You weren’t? Where were you?”

“Remember how I said Mom made me? I hadn’t been thought of just yet.”

Meadow pulled her head back in shock. “But- I thought- And that would make you- When were you made?”

“Just over a year ago.”

“You- You’re one?” Meadow jumped to her hooves and jabbed an accusative hoof at Moondog. “You’ve been calling me ‘kid’ when I’m fifteen times older than you?!”

“Yeah.”

“Holy ----.” Meadow frowned. “Holy ----.”

“Language,” mumbled Moondog, even as she twitched from the ache of the magic. “You’re too young to use those words.”

“Am not. —---! So that’s you?”

“Yep.”

“So if you can keep me from swearing, why can’t you do anything else in dreams?”

Moondog looked up. “What do you mean?”

“You said dreams were acting up,” Meadow said. “I thought that meant you couldn’t make them better at all.”

“I- Well- I can, but- It’s just-” Moondog rustled her wings. “It’s hard to describe. Yes, technically, but it hurts.”

“Then shouldn’t you still be helping ponies with nightmares? If magic’s going away, they’ll be having more now than ever. I mean, you woke me up from a coma. I- If you can do that, you should be able to do this!”

Moondog stared at the ground. “That was… different,” she mumbled. “I could still sculpt your dreams no problem, but this- I don’t know. I- I should be able to fix them just like that, but I can’t, and I feel so…”

“Is it really that bad?” asked Meadow, sitting down again. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think Luna ever imagined you working in a place with no magic. I mean, you’re doing better with dreams than her right now, aren’t you?”

Moondog snorted. And yet-

dreamer.hasPoint();return: TRUE--Error; UnknownException e

“And you’re- I think you can adjust if you keep trying,” said Meadow. “You weren’t made to fix comas, but you did it anyway. You weren’t made to teach others dream magic, but you did it anyway. Even if it took a few tries. And if you can still work with dreams at all even at a time like this, I- I think you can figure out how to do your job just as good as you did. You just need to try a bit harder.” She lightly, self-consciously patted Moondog on the shoulder. “You can do it, Doggo.”

Yes, dreams were harder to manipulate. But “harder” wasn’t equal to “impossible”. She could bear the pain. And, Moondog realized, if she could do something even Mom couldn’t- No. Bad thoughts. She wasn’t doing this to brag. She was doing this because it was the right thing.

“You know what? Yeah.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. No sense in waiting. Moondog stood up. “I- I’ve got a lot to do, so I’ve- gotta go. Thanks for the pep talk. Stay safe out there.”

Meadow reared to wrap her front legs around Moondog’s neck. “You stay safe in here.”

“Thanks, Meadow.” And Moondog was gone.

Mom had sometimes said that Moondog relied a bit much on large-scale, brute-force dream manipulation to get rid of nightmares and that would come back to bite her. Moondog had scoffed. She could control the dream realm near-freely; how could that hurt her?

wind.tune(KEY.C_sharp_major);--Error; UnknownException e

How, indeed.

Moondog had thought herself creative on an artistic level; now she needed to get creative on a technical level. What changes would have the largest impact-to-power-consumed ratio? There wasn’t any easy-to-use formula; Moondog had to look at each dream individually and find out on the fly. Which thing would lead to another which would lead to another and another and another… It was an avalanche. Or dominos. Or an avalanche of dominos.

shark.setTeeth(NULL);--Error; UnknownException e

Sometimes it was obvious and Moondog just needed to make the monster trip. Sometimes she had less of a clue than Rarity had a tolerance for beige. But she managed, slowly learning a thing or two about which changes were most likely to have which results.. The small inconsistencies between her intent for her spells and the final results weren’t quite as bad as she thought they’d be, but it still pained her (not literally) when something that was supposed to be emerald was just viridian.

erase(doodle);--Error; UnknownException e

But no matter how not-bad she was doing, no matter how much she adjusted, Moondog couldn’t stop thinking about the drain on magic. It was bad enough for her; just how much worse was it for ponies? Hard to say. Moondog didn’t know if ponies relied on magic as much as she did and she couldn’t talk with them to find out. Especially not one specific pony.

She looked like Mom. She talked like Mom. She felt like Mom. She was Mom, but she wasn’t.

As dawn approached, Moondog stared at the dream projection of Mom as she stood on the prow of the pirate ship. That figure was so close to Mom in just about everything… except, of course, the important parts. She didn’t know the truth about her situation when knowing she was in a dream was kind of Mom’s whole thing. The result was uncanny; Moondog alternately felt repulsed by the thing that obviously wasn’t Mom and sick for being repulsed by the thing that obviously was Mom. She had to force herself to call out, “Hey, Mom? Can I talk to you?”

After swinging down from the bowsprit and adjusting her tricorner, Not-Mom said, “You look troubled. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah.” Moondog swallowed. “Mom, I… I don’t know if you’ll remember this, but I’ll say it anyway.”

Not-Mom tilted her head. “Whatever do you mean? Of course I shall remember it.”

dreamer.getLucidity();return: FALSE--Error; UnknownException e

Moondog hid her grimace. “I’m… I’m doing alright. Manipulating dreams is screwy, but I’m doing my best and I think it’s working. Ponies are scared, but you already knew that, right? It’s tough, with all of them freaking out. Really wishing I’d paid attention to those priority lessons you tried to teach me. Still managing. I’d say I hope you get better, but there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just the connection between there and here. I’d make you lucid if I could, but I can’t, so, um, yeah. Sorry. …I… I love you, Mom. Stay safe.”

“I love you, too,” said Not-Mom. She glanced to one side. “That barber is certainly taking a long time with that chainsaw. Pardon.”

I love you, too. Not-Mom wouldn’t have said that if Mom didn’t mean it. Moondog wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

When morning finally came, Moondog felt something she’d never felt before: exhaustion, like a bridge that’d been walked over too many times. She was exercising spells she’d never exercised before, opening up mana channels she hadn’t known existed. She was half-convinced she could feel her magic bleeding away. For third-shifters, she limited herself to small changes, expending as little energy as possible. Between that and the lightened load of daytime in general, Moondog returned to some semblance of her normal self over the course of several hours.

Then the night returned, and it was time to do it all over again. But this time, she was ready.

The magic drain was good in one unexpected way: nocnice couldn’t feed on ponies.

They caused nightmares and fed on negative emotions using magic. Magic was being drained. Ergo, the more they tried to feed, the more they were drained. Moondog stopped by one nocnica-infested dream only to see them basically get flensed to near-nonexistence. (Perhaps total nonexistence. Wings crossed.) Other magical sources of nightmares suffered similar fates as the drain rolled through the dream realm like acid rain.

It was barely anything. Stress and anxiety could still make plain old regular nightmares, and a lot more of them. But it was something.

“Hi, Mom. Still around. Nothing’s changed. Just stopping by to say ‘hey’. Um… Sorry, I, I know I suck at small talk, b-but… What am I s-supposed to say? It’s n-not like you’re gonna respond or anything. You’re just g-gonna sit there and- I’m sorry, that, that was out of line. Or maybe you get it, I don’t know. Um. I still love you. Still working. Nightmares are manageable. Be seeing you. I hope.”

It was the lack of knowledge that was the worst part. Not knowing what was being done on the outside. Moondog didn’t fault Meadow at all for being a teen who wasn’t omniscient, but it was still frustrating. Moondog knew Mom, knew Twilight, knew the other Elements, knew Aunt Celly. They would absolutely have a plan, and yet she couldn’t ask them about it.

dreamer.addToAppearance(GLASSES.Rimmed);--Error; UnknownException e

It was one of those times where Moondog got a wakeup call on just how limited dreams could really be. She had phenomenal power within them, but the outside might as well not exist if nopony told her anything. Except that most of the time, ponies told her things, so that was barely even an issue. And right now, sure, she could try going out, but with magic being drained, that was like a pony trying to swim in sulfuric acid.

chimera.setCorporeality(TRUE);--Error; UnknownException e

To make matters worse, although Moondog’s drive was focused on dreams, she still wanted to help, even if “helping” amounted to being a sounding board for… whatever. Or just standing on the sidelines, offering moral support. Moral support was good. (Making good dreams pretty much amounted to moral support.) But dreams were all she could do, and that only applied when ponies were asleep. Whatever help she could offer would be minimal.

remove(fence);--Error; UnknownException e

As a cherry of annoyance on top of the bad-times sundae, there was the pain from the magic drain. It didn’t make her want to vomit anymore, but it was always there. Moondog could concentrate a lot more if it just went away.

tree.grow();

Like that. Much better.

avalanche.stop();

But only relatively. Moondog still knew things were bad out there. She was tied up in a crate on a runaway train, only able to provide minimal help in extremely limited circumstances and with no way to see how close anypony else was to solving the problem. Okay, she could talk with Meadow, but since Meadow didn’t know anything, she might as wait just a sunblasted rink-a-dink minute.

Moondog hastily grabbed a tuft of dust and blew on it, twisting it in just the right way. It ballooned smoothly into a snowstorm, albeit one where the flakes fell up. More importantly, it didn’t hurt.

Dreams were working again. Which meant-

mom.inDreams();return: FALSE

Okay. Okay. Not what Moondog had wanted, but no cause for panic yet. Right? Right. Mom was probably just still awake. Okay. Maybe, Moondog thought, she could set up a spell that would automatically tell her once Mom entered the dreamscape, astrally or somnionically. Right?

while(TRUE) {    if(mom.inDreams()) {        self.notify();        break;    }}

Right. Easy. Moondog took a deep breath and kept at it. She could wait.

If somepony had done the remarkably specific study of seeing what ponies were dreaming of the night after magic was returned to Equestria, clocks would’ve popped up with surprising regularity. Not necessarily as the focus of the dream, but at least one clock would make an appearance somewhere. Moondog couldn’t help it. She kept waiting, but her mind kept running back to how much time was left until Mom came back, and time meant clocks. Since this was all in a dream and clocks didn’t make the dream any better or worse, Moondog did the oneiric equivalent of sweeping them all under the rug by leaving them out in the open. Nopony would notice, right? It was like trying to-

notify(self, delayedLocatorSpell);self.setLocation(mom.getLocation());

Mom was asleep, not projecting herself. Moondog kept her wings crossed as she blipped over to Mom’s dream, a clearing in an ethereal forest. She poked at one of the trees. It collapsed into smoke, just like she’d wanted, and it didn’t hurt while doing so. Okay. Okay.

Mom looked up as Moondog approached, but that could’ve meant anything. Her eyes lit up, but that could’ve meant anything. “Moondog?” she asked.

Moondog swallowed. It was hard to not get her hopes up. “Mom?”

“I remember your messages, and-”

dreamer.getLucidity();return: TRUE

“MOM!” Moondog lunged forward and wrapped herself around Mom. “M-Mom,” she whimpered. “I- I thought I’d-”

“Shh, shh, easy, child.” Mom hugged Moondog back. “Calm yourself. I’m here.”

“Y-you were… You…” Moondog couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. She simply sat as she and Mom held each other. For one long moment, she didn’t care about anything else in the slightest.

“Why are you so troubled?” Mom asked eventually. “I know that weaving dreams was more difficult, but I was gone for but two nights.”

“It’s not that you weren’t here, it’s… Suddenly, you weren’t you. I-” Moondog took a long, shuddering breath. “It was you, but you didn’t recognize me as me. Whenever you were dreaming, I couldn’t talk to you or- or anything. You were just- there, like somepony was wearing your skin. If you were just gone, I… Things wouldn’t’ve been so bad.” She hugged Mom even more tightly. “I wouldn’t’ve had to hear somepony say she loved me when she didn’t even recognize me.”

“Oh, stars above, of course,” gasped Mom. Now she was the one with the tighter hold. “I- never imagined-”

“But you’re here now, so…” Moondog gave Mom one last squeeze and flowed out of the hug. “This whole thing is done, right? All I heard was that magic was being drained, and that was just a guess.”

“Yes, ’tis over, thank the heavens,” said Mom. “A filly known as Cozy Glow was using a complex ritual and a supreme misunderstanding of friendship to drain magic from Equestria and take it over. Some of Twilight’s students managed to stop her before our magic was fully gone and, from what little I’ve seen, Equestria appears to be back to normal in the magical sense.”

“Huh,” said Moondog vaguely. “Soooo… is each new major Equestrian incident trying to one-up the last in terms of weirdness?”

Mom sagged a little and shrugged helplessly. “It can certainly seem that way.”

“Hmm.”

“Also, stay out of Cozy Glow’s dreams.”

Moondog opened her mouth and promptly closed it again. “Right. Yeah.”

“I know that merely standing by is not in your nature,” Mom said, putting a hoof on Moondog’s shoulder, “but in the dream realm, we are not enforcers. We are stewards. She is seeing justice in the real world.”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Moondog still ached from all the work she’d been doing, but she trusted Mom. She could ignore one pony. “Okay. No dream revenge.”

“Good. So how did the drain treat you? If you were unable to bring me into lucidity…”

“Could’ve been worse.” Moondog shrugged. “I’ve, I’ve been keeping watch over the dream realm these past few nights. It was- Making good dreams was hard, since every time I did something more complicated than just existing, it meant I was reaching into their minds just enough for my magic to technically be in Equestria and for some of it to get pulled away. I’m fine, I didn’t lose anything I can’t replace, and I think I did pretty good. Not my best work, but still good.” She smiled hesitantly.

Mom flexed her wings and stared. “You went through all that last few nights and still managed to keep ponies’ dreams in order? You were very brave.”

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t ask for any of that. I was just doing the only thing I could do. What, was I supposed to just curl up in a ball and wait for it all to be over?” Moondog snorted.

“You could have. Yet you did not.” Mom put a hoof on Moondog’s shoulders. “You faced an uphill battle. I was gone. You couldn’t communicate with ponies. Dreams were behaving improperly. And yet your response to all that was to work harder. You still made good dreams. You-” She gasped and wiped her eyes. “You did everything I could have hoped for and more,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

truth.tell();

Moondog laughed nervously. “W-well, uh… I almost didn’t. Remember Moonlit Meadow? How I’ve been teaching her dream magic?”

Mom frowned — thoughtfully, not disapprovingly. “Of course.”

“Part of learning dream magic is learning lucidity, so I visited her since she, y’know, could lucid dream. She told me what was going on and basically gave me a pep talk. I was… kinda freaking out something fierce at the time. She got me moving. So… it’s not like I just went on without you. I needed to be told I could.” Moondog hung her head. “Sorry.”

Mom frowned, again thoughtfully. “But,” she muttered to herself, “you gave your first message to me on that first night.”

“Yeah. Meadow was pretty quick to let me have it.”

“Then you were convinced to go back to managing dreams, in spite of its difficulty, within the space of a single conversation.” Mom draped a wing over Moondog. “I think, even had Meadow not been there, you would have eventually gone back to making dreams on your own, regardless of the difficulty.”

“You really think so?” Moondog asked, looking up.

“You were created to figure out how to make good dreams. You would have figured out how to make good dreams.”

Moondog managed a smile. “Thanks, Mom.” She rubbed her head against Mom’s neck.

“Still, Meadow did shorten the time you were doing nothing,” Mom said as she stroked Moondog’s mane, “and being able to get sleep untroubled by nightmares must have helped a great many ponies deal with these events. We should give her our thanks.”

“I’ve already thanked her, but making it official would be nice.” Moondog paused. “She’s probably asleep by now, if you want to just go and do it.”

“I cannot see why not, then. Come.”

Meadow was lounging on clouds beneath an aurora when Moondog found her. Seeing her guest, Meadow rolled onto a futon of clouds. “Dad’s magic was working again before I went to bed,” said Meadow. “How’re dreams?”

“Perfect. Fantastic. Like new,” said Moondog, pointing her wings this way and that. “Pretty sure whatever was draining magic has been shut off. Thanks for that little talk, it helped a lot.”

One of Meadow’s ears went down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And since you helped me, there’s somepony else who wants to thank you.”

“Who?”

Absolute silence fell, to the point that one could hear the stars twinkling. Above them, the night sky began turning. Tendrils of blue mist, with the stars embedded in them, peeled away from nothing and spun like they were caught in a hurricane, though there was no wind. One by one, the tendrils wrapped around each other and plunged into the clouds right next to Moondog. As the mists gathered, they coalesced into Mom, the moon on her peytral shining brighter than the one in the sky, superclusters twisting through her mane, auroral wisps dancing on her feathers.

“Showoff,” muttered Moondog.

“Jealous,” whispered Mom. To Meadow, she said, “Moonlit Meadow, as Princess of the Night, I-”

“That’s a pretty good Luna,” said Meadow. Mom stopped talking mid-word and her wings twitched. “Although you’d know her real well, wouldn’t you? I-”

“Meadow…” Moondog flapped up to Meadow and stage-whispered in her ear, “That’s a pretty good Luna because that is Luna. The real deal. Nothing to do with me. Promise.”

Meadow stopped talking. “Real thing?” She gulped and mumbled, “Ah, crud.”

“And if you want to put your hoof in your mouth, I can make it edible.”

“Do not worry. You were not the first to make such a mistake,” Mom said, smiling slightly, “and you shall not be the last.” She drew herself up again. “Moondog has told me about the way you helped her these past nights.”

“The way I- helped- That wasn’t even a speech or anything!” said Meadow. “Just a- thing I said!”

“Nevertheless,” Mom continued, “Moondog says your encouragement meant a great deal.” (The words It did appeared above Moondog’s head and she nodded vigorously.) “And for your service to the Crown, however small…” Mom bowed slightly. “You have the thanks of both of us.”

Meadow looked at Moondog. Blinked. Looked at Mom. Blinked.

The dream collapsed and Moondog slid across the not-floor of the collective unconscious. Mom stood serene, like she hadn’t just been hurled out of a pocket dimension. “Hmm,” she said, frowning. “Unfortunate.”

Moondog twisted back onto her hooves. “What is?” She shook a few stray thoughts out of her coat.

“The shock of this was too much for Meadow and she woke up. I suppose it would be, for a teenager to receive personal gratitude from her country’s leader.”

“So do you want me to stop by tomorrow night and tell her? I can-”

“I do not think so. In dreams, from just you, it would not hold the weight it deserves. We ought to reach out to her in another way. And perhaps her parents should know what she did.” Mom looked pointedly at Moondog.

conclusion.draw();

Moondog made a face. “Will this involve me going outside? Mom, please tell me this won’t involve me going outside.”

“Very well. This won’t involve you going outside.”

“You lied to me.”

“I did. Lies can be powerful motivators.”

“My faith in you is forever shattered.”

“You knew, when I said we needed to talk with Meadow’s parents, that you were going to end up going outside. You knew. Any hopes you had to the contrary were but self-delusion.”

“I know. I’d rather blame you than me.”

“Oh, hush. Growth is good for you.”

“And shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Most certainly. The… latest trans-Equestrian incident has played havoc with my sleep schedule, as trans-Equestrian incidents are wont to do. I am exhausted, yes, but I would not awaken Meadow and her parents in the middle of the night.” Yawn.

Moondog glowered at the too-stiff carpet in Mom’s real-world room. It was like walking on a bed of crystals made from especially stiff rubber. And the air was like walking through a thick mist congealed around her. And nothing really moved the way it was supposed to when she pushed it. And even levitation was tricky. And the magic that made her up was constantly getting drained. And all the other stuff that just didn’t work right. In the real world, it sometimes felt like everything was out to get her.

Especially that carpet. Look at it. Sitting there all smug…

“Why are you even trying to make yourself look presentable?” asked Moondog. “You’re a princess, you’re automatically presentable!”

Mom pulled the comb through her mane again, straightening another few strands of hair. Many, many strands remained. “It is the principle of the thing. Even if I am a princess and thus automatically presentable, I ought not to look like a presentable hobo when imposing myself upon my subjects. Not everyone can sculpt their appearance as easily as you.”

“Reality bites.” But, Moondog figured, at least Mom wasn’t making her wear any regalia.

“Indeed it does.”

Moondog paced back and forth. Mom kept combing her unruly mane. Moondog took a closer look at her; she looked a touch more beaten than usual and the comb’s movement was a bit shaky. And if those were the beginnings of bags under her eyes… “Tough few days?” Moondog asked.

“Unbelievably so.” Mom straightened out another single hair. “I was blissfully ignorant of precisely how much magic went into Equestria until it was gone. Why, my peytral nearly dragged me to the ground once I lost my earth pony strength!”

“Then why don’t I do this alone? Yes, I promise I’ll do it,” Moondog added when Mom eyed her suspiciously. “You can get some sleep, and you’ll probably just intimidate them anyway, by virtue of being Best Princess.”

“If you think you can handle it, then please do so.” Mom pulled her peytral off, dropped it in the middle of the floor, and loped over to her bed. “More sleep would be heavenly.”

“Good. Get some rest, I’ll be right back.” Moondog saluted. “Adios, madre.”

E:\Equestria\Canterlot\Canterlot Castle\Mom's Bedroom> Set-Location "..\..\..\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House"

Moondog blipped through space and appeared near the front steps of a small, unassuming house in a small, unassuming town. Based on what Meadow had said, Halterdale wasn’t that different from Ponyville, once you ignored the monster attacks and the Elements of Harmony. It was just another small town in the Equestrian countryside. Although it was the middle of the day, the street was empty; the entire country seemed to have unofficially declared that, in light of the magic drain, today was a day off. For whom? Everyone. Moondog took a deep breath, walked onto Meadow’s front porch, and knocked on the door three times.

After a moment, a unicorn stallion ripped open the door, a bowl of applesauce in his mouth. “Fohry!” he managed to say. “I waf…” He stopped and stared at Moondog.

“Hey,” said Moondog, waving. “Is this Moonlit Meadow’s house?”

The unicorn’s jaw slowly went slack and the bowl slipped from his mouth. With a greater oomph of magic than ought to be necessary, Moondog magically grabbed it from the air without spilling a drop of applesauce. “Y-yes, it is,” said the unicorn, nodding jerkily. His eyes slipped between Moondog’s horn and her wings.

Moondog set the bowl on the floor. “Is she home and can I speak with her?”

Blink blink. “I… Um…” Cough. “I- I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Moondog. I help Princess Luna manage-”

The unicorn took a step back as if struck. “Oh, sweet Celestia,” he said quietly, “you’re HER.”

E:\Equestria\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House> Set-ActorProperty Moondog.tntbs -Name "Sex" -Value "Male"

A beard unrolled from Moondog’s chin and his voice deepened. “Except when I’m him,” he said, grinning.

The unicorn’s ear twitched, then he nodded, as if to himself. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “you’re- that person.” He cleared his throat. “Um, uh, yes, Meadow is home, and- why, why don’t you come in?” He waved Moondog in jerkily and called out, “Meadow? Could, could you come down, please?”

After taking a moment to wipe his hooves off purely because it was tradition, Moondog looked into the living room. He was less versed in guest etiquette than a cockroach and far more concerned about breaking it, so he didn’t know which of the chairs he ought to pick. He settled for one of the less stuffed ones. An earth mare glanced into the room, yelped, and backed up. Inaudible words drifted through the doorframe as she held a semi-panicked conversation with the stallion. Moondog almost went after him, but decided to give them their time. This was their house, after all. But what were these ponies’ names, anyway?

E:\Equestria\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House> Get-Actors -Exclude Moondog.tntbs -Name -Age -SexName                  Age   Sex----                  ---   ---Dandelion.pny         46    FemaleMoonlit Meadow.pny    15    FemaleRichter.pny           44    MaleRippling Stream.pny   17    FemaleE:\Equestria\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House> Set-ActorProperty Moondog.tntbs -Name "Sex" -Value "Female"

So the mare (probably Meadow’s mom) was Dandelion and the stallion (Meadow’s dad) was Richter. A pony matching the description of Rippling Stream (Meadow’s sister?) was nowhere to be seen, probably upstairs. Moondog pulled her beard off and twisted it into her mane.

As she waited, somepony came bumping down the stairs. Meadow sidled into the living room, saw Moondog, and jumped. “Moondog?” she gasped.

“Yo.” Moondog smiled and waved.

Meadow dashed to the chair. “I didn’t know you could leave dreams!” she said, and poked at one of Moondog’s wings.

“I can, but I don’t like it.” Moondog flared the wing to make it more pokable. “Don’t expect to see me out here… at all, really. Don’t expect me to be nearly as interesting, either. Reality’s harder to work with.”

“Oh.” Poke poke. “How come you feel funny? It’s like you’re-”

“Meadow!” Richter and Dandelion had re-entered the living room and the latter was looking mortified. “Stop poking the princess!” said Dandelion. “She’s-”

“Technically I’m not a princess, if that helps,” offered Moondog. “Closest thing I’d be at the moment is a duchess, and that’s assuming I’m in the peerage at all. I don’t mind anyway.”

Richter and Dandelion glanced at each other. Dandelion shrugged helplessly and they took a seat on the couch across from Moondog, both openly staring. (Among other things, Moondog always missed the “yeah, sure, whatever” nature of dreams while in the real world.) Meadow poked one last time and wormed into the gap between Richter and the armrest. Eventually, Dandelion coughed and said, “So, um, I’m Dandelion, this is Richter-” Richter gave a tentative little wave. “-and we’re, we’re Meadow’s parents, and… what, what are you doing here?”

Moondog reluctantly cleared her throat. Speeches were so much more fun when they were bombastic, not formal like this. “Meadow might’ve told you this already, but I’m Moondog — yes, that one — and I help Mom — Princess Luna — make good dreams. Over the past few days, magic getting drained meant Mom couldn’t get into the dream realm, and the effects of the drain on dream magic meant…” She rubbed the back of her neck and laughed nervously. “Well, it’s complicated. Basically, I started panicking and went into a funk at the same time. Meadow helped calm me down, got me out, and encouraged me to, y’know, keep making good dreams.”

Dandelion and Richter both glanced at Meadow, who beamed. “You helped her manage dreams?” said Dandelion.

A cloud drifted in front of Meadow’s beaming. “W-well, uh, not, not directly.” Her ears twitched. “Moondog just- needed a friend and I was there. Just, um, some nice words.”

“To be fair, I really needed a friend and some nice words right then. So I’m just here to say…” Moondog got up, faced Meadow, and bowed. Meadow, her cheeks turning red, scooched back on the couch. “You have the gratitude of the Crown, Moonlit Meadow. I thank you and Princess Luna of the Night thanks you. This will be remembered. Luna would be here as well, but she’s busy at the moment.”

Meadow bobbed her head. “You know I was just trying to help you, right?” she half-squeaked. “I mean- friends help friends.”

Moondog grinned. “Just wait until you offer Aunt Celly the last piece of cake and get baronessed.” To Dandelion and Richter, she said, “You two should be proud of your daughter.”

“We already were,” said Dandelion. “But-” She rubbed her forehead. “Whoof, okay, wow.” She swallowed. “Um. Thank you for… coming and- and letting us now. I’m sorry we didn’t have anything more… befitting of your stature-”

“If I wanted something more befitting my stature,” Moondog said with a laugh, “I’d’ve stopped by the party store on the way over. Gotten some of those noisemakers, maybe a party cracker or two.” She tipped an invisible hat. “Thank you for your time, I apologize for turning your life upside-down for a few minutes. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be out of your manes.” She took a step towards the door.

“Wait. Do you, um, eat?” asked Dandelion, standing up. “We can get you some snacks for the… teleport. Chocolate chip bars.”

Deciding to spare Dandelion a postgraduate-level lecture on the nature of her sustenance, Moondog said, “Sure, I’ll take one.”

“Um. Good. Wait, wait here.” Dandelion gave her one last look and vanished into the kitchen. Richter stayed stock-still and staring.

Meadow hopped off the couch and walked up to Moondog. “Can you eat or are you just being nice?” she whispered.

“I can. I even like it if the food’s good,” Moondog whispered back.

“How?”

“Magic.”

Meadow snorted and poked one of Moondog’s wings again.

“Mom? Dad?” somepony called. A unicorn mare, a few years older than Meadow, walked into the room. “What’s go-” She saw Moondog, froze, and squawked, “Princess!” Before Moondog could say anything, she’d darted away.

“That’s Rippling Stream,” Meadow said casually. She didn’t even look up. “She’s my sister and she’s… not the greatest with new people. Don’t take it personally.”

“I never do.”

Meadow reared and whispered into Moondog’s ear, “I think she got it from Dad.” Indeed, Richter hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. Moondog nodded.

Dandelion came back from the kitchen, carrying a big plastic bag stuff with bars that looked like a cross between brownies and chocolate chip cookies. “Um. Here,” she said, holding out the bag to Moondog.

Moondog flared her wings. “Oh, no, I just meant one, you don’t need-”

“I know I don’t need.” Dandelion’s posture sagged a little. “But Meadow was- I didn’t think I’d ever see her even awake again when she was in the hospital, and now she’s…” Her voice trailed off as she gestured at Meadow.

“Peachy!” chirped Meadow.

Dandelion nodded. “Right. That. Moondog, you- You fixed our family. Just because Meadow was scared when you found her. There-” She wiped her face down. Meadow looked away, pretending not to notice. “There’s no way I can thank you enough. So… I’m giving you these bars for no other reason than I want to.”

That got Moondog’s mind running. Was this how she felt to ponies? Somebody who did great things for them just because? Hmm. She’d always thought it was weird how ponies could turn down her offers just to avoid making her do work, but now, here she was, turning down a pony’s offer just to avoid making the pony do work. Almost. She wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. “Then, sure. I’ll take them.”

Dandelion smiled a little and nodded. “Be sure to try one before you take food you don’t like.”

E:\Equestria\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House> Get-Content BarToEat.bar | Add-Content Moondog.tntbs

Picking a bar at random, Moondog downed it in a few bites (and to call it delicious would be insulting it, holy crap). She wasn’t sure how her magic converted food into… well, more magic, but it worked. It wasn’t as efficient as drawing it from the collective unconsciousness, but it was a lot more fun. “Mmm,” she said, licking her hoof. “This is good.”

Dandelion nodded again and turned away to hide the fact that her face was reddening. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you.” Moondog tucked the bag beneath a wing. “I’ll be seeing you all. Maybe even tonight. Have a good day.” She nodded to each pony in turn and left the house, waving as they made their goodbyes.

Why did teleporting straight out of somepony’s house seem rude? Moondog was leaving, not entering. But it was abrupt in the same way. Maybe it was just to give them something like closure: Moondog was out the door and therefore gone. Maybe it let them wave and say goodbye. Maybe it was just a weird pony thing that Mom would know more about. Moondog put a hoof on the main road and gathered her magic-

“Wait.”

Moondog turned. Richter was standing on the front porch, his eyes shiny as he blinked. He cleared his throat. “Um, ma’am-” he said. “Or, um, Princess- Your Highness-”

“Just call me Moondog.”

He nodded. “Right. Moondog.” Richter sniffed and walked up to her, looking her in the eye. “Dandelion already said this, but thank you for- for bringing Meadow back to us. It- I, I was the one who found her after the fire,” he said, his expression downcast. “She was… so limp. I took her pulse several times because I thought she was dead. And as the weeks went by and she didn’t get better, all I could think was that the last time I s-saw my daughter, s-she might as well b-be dead.” By now, he was staring at the ground. He took a deep breath. “Then one day, she woke up. Right as rain, just like that. She was better, and she told us about what you did, and- and- Oh, Celestia!” He lunged forward and grabbed Moondog in a hug, barely holding back sobs.

Before Moondog could do anything, though, Richter jumped back as if stung and shuffled backwards for the house, his face practically glued to the ground as he bowed. Breathlessly, he said, “I’msorryYourHighnessIdidn’tmean-”

Moondog stepped forward, pulled Richter to an upright stop, and gave him a hug of her own. Not a strong one, he could easily push away, but a hug nonetheless. “Screw propriety,” she said. “I know how it feels to have somepony be there and yet not there.”

A pause. Then Richter returned the hug with gusto, taking loud, gasping breaths. He pressed his face into Moondog’s shoulder. “Th-thank you. S-seeing you, knowing what y-you did for Meadow, I was- I couldn’t- Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Moondog spread her wings around the two of them. “Helping people’s what I do. It’s just usually dreams rather than, y’know, comas.”

After a long moment, Richter gently broke the hug. “One last time, thank you.” He smiled at Moondog and nodded. “Take care.”

“You, too. And thanks for the snacks.” Moondog saluted. “Adios, amigo.”

E:\Equestria\Halterdale\Moonlit Meadow's House> Set-Location "..\..\Canterlot\Canterlot Castle\Mom's Bedroom"

Moondog blipped into existence back in Mom’s bedroom. Even after just a few minutes, Mom was curled up on her bed in a tangle of sheets, her chest smoothly rising up and down in deep sleep. Moondog carefully hid the bag in a secret drawer inside a secret drawer, then pushed at the barrier between realspace and dreamspace.

E:\Equestria\Canterlot\Canterlot Castle\Mom's Bedroom> DreamJump.spll -EntryDreamer Luna.pnyLocating dream....Success!Engaging worldshift.......run();

Moondog ducked under the figures of Tirek as they went flying and smashed holes in the Applewood sign. “I’m back,” she said to Mom. “Obviously.”

“So?” Mom asked, flicking a bit of dust from her warhammer. “How did it go?” She grinned. “Or did you spend several minutes dancing the canter-canter on top of the Crystal Palace?”

“I really went.” Moondog conjured up a plate of Dandelion’s bars. “And I bring proof in the form of homemade cookie bars. Meadow’s mom gave me a bunch of these. Try them, they’re great.”

“Very well.” Mom picked out one of the smaller bars and ate it. After several long moments of chewing slowly, she swallowed and her expression grew serious. “You must protect the real ones from your aunt at all costs,” she growled. “If she finds them, they will be gone in seconds.” She snatched up another bar and set about devouring it while somehow managing the grace of a ballet dancer.

“Already hid them,” said Moondog. “The usual spot. Although before I go, I’ve got a question. I know you couldn’t use magic to enter the dream realm, but while you were asleep and I was in your dreams, couldn’t you have gotten lucid? Once. Just to reassure me you’re doing okay. Plain old lucid dreaming doesn’t require any magic.”

“It must have slipped my mind,” Mom said. But was it just Moondog, or did her voice sound evasive?

“But didn’t you get my message the first night?” asked Moondog, flaring her wings. “I get that you could’ve just forgotten the first night, with everything going on, but the second, too, after I’d reminded you?”

“Well, ah…” Mom’s ears went back. “That requires a… certain skill in times such as those that I had forgotten I lacked.” She was very interested in buffing her hammer.

“But Meadow could-”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

“Moooooom…” Moondog’s voice grew low. “Do you not know how to lucid dream without using magic?”

Mom opened her mouth. Closed it again. Twitched her wings. Looked away. Pawed at the ground. Buffed her hammer. Looked back at Moondog. Away again. Buffed again. “I…” she said excessively slowly, “…suppose that… that is one particular skill I…” She flexed her wings. “…have never seen… much benefit in… pursuing…”

Moondog blinked. “Ho. Lee. —---.” A pause. “Anyway, I, uh, gotta get back to dreamwalking, keep my momentum these past few nights. Important work, you know. Sorry to bother you.” She saluted. “Adios, madre.” And she was gone.

“She what?” screamed Meadow.

Rootkit

The insurance rates in Ponyville must’ve been insane. Every time some big bad guy popped up in Equestria, he always seemed to go for Ponyville, even if ninety-five percent of the time it was because Ponyville was where Twilight and her friends were. Then there were the monster attacks, the general shenanigans of Twilight and others in her social circle, and the issues that popped up with technically being a college town in a way. Some days, it seemed like simply living in Ponyville shortened your life expectancy by a decade. And now, there was mind control. Did insurance cover mind control? What sort of insurance covered mind control?

Moondog scraped another blob of Sombra’s dark magic off of one of the thoughts in Mrs. Cake’s dream. “Oh, Mom,” she said, putting a hoof to her nose, “this is worse than the last one.” Cringing, she poked around inside with her magic. What was left were a few residuals of Sombra’s urge to conquer Canterlot. So, to cancel it out…

settleDream(MOOD.Vacation);settleDreamSetting(canterlot, false);

Mrs. Cake’s drive to work for somepony was hit with a relaxing trip for herself. The work being in Canterlot was suplexed by everywhere except Canterlot. Her mind settled on a tour of a backlot in Applewood. Moondog wasn’t sure why, but Mrs. Cake was enthralled, so she didn’t care. As the blob of magic absorbed thoughts contrary to the nature of its existence, it rapidly evaporated. Moondog chucked it away from herself; it was gone before it’d flown ten feet.

After Sombra’s attempted takeover, Mom had enlisted Moondog to help with scrubbing the arcane remnants of his mental magic. “While such pustules will naturally degrade over time,” Mom had said, “removing them early will also rid the victim of any lingering urges of his and give them a sounder, healthier mind. They appear in dreams, so stay aware.”

The good thing about mind-control magic? It didn’t fight back. Moondog could poke and prod it all she wanted until she found something that worked well in destroying it. For small globs like this, it was dreams that were antithetical to whatever commands were in the magic. Stories about strong-willed ponies resisting mind control weren’t just stories; the more they resisted and acted contrary to the magic, the more magic was needed to keep their wills suppressed. As these particular bits of magic weren’t being reinforced in any way (Moondog could still feel where the link with Sombra was supposed to be), they could be exhausted of their magic and disposed of in less than a minute, max.

The bad thing about mind-control magic? It was absolutely disgusting, on both moral and metaphysical levels. Moral because, dude, mind control. Metaphysically, it was (in laymare’s terms) like walking through a briar patch; it dug its thorns in, hurt, and did its darndest to stick to you. It even had a special, unique feeling of off-ness that made Moondog’s skin crawl and gave her insides an urge to vacate the premises. But after Cozy Glow’s magic drain, Moondog was used to working in unpleasant situations. This one wasn’t nearly as bad as that one.

And besides, since Mom and Aunt Celly had just decided they were abdicating, Moondog needed to get even more used to it. Soon, maintaining dreams would be her responsibility and hers alone. No pressure or anything.

Moondog combed over the dream again, in case she’d missed any magic. “I wonder if I could’ve helped,” she said to herself. “Did the ponies black out while under Sombra’s control, or… were they…” Moondog shivered. “Yeegh, I made myself scared. But if they were unconscious, could I have helped everypony, or would I have only been able to keep Sombra out of one pony’s head? Depends on how the mind control works, I guess. I could ask Mom, but she’d probably be all-” Her voice shifted to Mom’s. “‘And what makes you think I know mind control?’ And she’d have a point, so I’d be all, ‘Whup, wasn’t thinking, sorry.’ And I’d look like a right dummy.” A long pause. “Twilight would learn mind control just to test it, wouldn’t she? Hmm. …And Starlight already knows it… No, no violating ethics just to perform some science. Not until you’re a princess and can make it legal, anyway.”

The combing didn’t take long. When it came to mind-control magic, Mrs. Cake’s dream was as clean as a whistle, whatever that meant. Moondog grinned and slapped her hooves together. “Hah! Easy. I should let Mom know some of these techniques. Assuming she doesn’t know them already. Which she probably does.”

dreamer.markAsClean();ponyvillians.getNext();

The air unrolled into a scroll, bearing a list of names: Moondog’s half of the Ponyville residents. A quill twisted from nothing and scratched out Mrs. Cake’s name, right at the bottom. “Not even 3 AM and I’m already done. Poifect.”

Every resident of Ponyville (that Moondog was responsible for) had been looked over and cleaned. Moondog lounged on nothing, clicking her tongue as she looked at the list. “You know,” she said, “I bet the students of the School of Friendship are freaking out about their town getting taken over by a once-dead dark lord. …Yeah. I’ll get their nightmares next.” The letters rearranged themselves into a list of School of Friendship students.

psfStudents.getNext();return: "Yona"

“Huh. Yona? How the booger is this list sorted?” Moondog frowned at the list as the quill circled Yona’s name, then waved everything away into dust. “Well, if she’s first, she’s first.” She pulled open a portal in dreamspace and walked on through.

It being the summer break, few of the students at the Ponyville School of Friendship (Twilight was adamant it not get called PSF, for some reason) had been around for Sombra to hijack, and the few that had been were Ponyville residents, and so already got their minds scrubbed. But Moondog was willing to bet that the trauma of seeing the town where they went to school get mind-controlled was still kind of a big deal, so she might as well boop over to their minds to give them healthy dreams of something like eating a pool filled with marshmallows. And she was starting with Yona.

Yona was falling. How disappointingly typical. The environment made of candy switched things up a little, but still. Easily fixed. Moondog vaguely poked at physics and pulled in the right place.

dreamer.setGravity(0);--NameError; spell not defined for object 'dreamer'

Wait, what? But- That wasn’t- Maybe-

dreamer.getClass().getName();return: "List"

There were multiple dreamers? That just didn’t happen naturally. Moondog would’ve taken the time to think about it more, but Yona was still falling. Maybe-

dreamer["Yona"].setGravity(0);dreamer["Yona"].setVelocity(0, 0, 0);

Success! Yona came to a stop only a few feet above the ground. After a brief moment of shock, she cautiously put her feet on the ground. Only for Silverstream and Ocellus — the actual Silverstream and Ocellus — to walk up to her. Hovering just out of phase above them, Moondog looked around. There was Smolder, there was Gallus, there was Sandbar. The real deals, all of them sharing the same dream, apparently naturally. Moondog skimmed the contents of their dreams. All things closely related to their worst fears, all things that they tackled easily with the help of their friends. It would’ve been a shared nightmare, except that it was vanquished as easily as sneezing.

“Alright,” Moondog whispered. “What’s going on here?”

But before Moondog could do anything, the dream flexed, so blatantly that even the students felt it. Everynonpony and Sandbar turned to see… a sparkly version of Twilight? Huh. Moondog delicately probed its magic-

That was NOT Twilight.

Moondog cringed back at the sheer amount of power in the… whatever. It wasn’t the least bit malevolent, but Moondog didn’t want to be near it for the same reason ponies didn’t want to be near avalanches. Its mere presence was causing the students’ nightmares (not through any fault of its own, mind). It was the kind of thing whose attention you attracted only if you were very stupid.

Naturally, the students started talking to it, unaware of the possible danger. Moondog thought fast. Maybe, if she could divert the thing’s attention-

getDreamer("Unknown");return:-- dreamer[name] = "Messenger of Tree of Harmony"-- dreamer[desc] = SPECIES.Tree, ╥åÐя•ËñØ¡�ÆпЛ§ŽÙ--Error; WaitWhatException e-- dreamer[desc] = SPECIES.Tree--Error; AreYouSeriousException e-- dreamer[desc] = SPECIES.Tree, SEX.Genderless, COAT_COLOR.Crystalline_Blue, […]-- dreamer[interests] = "harmony", "protection", "growth", […]-- […]try {    self.talkWith(treeOfHarmonyMessenger);} catch (IMeanReallyWhatTheDeuceException e) {    e.ignore();}

And, of course, the students chose that moment to wake up, leaving Moondog reeling back in the collective unconscious and not talking to the super-powerful tree what the friggernaffy.

Moondog stared at the spot where Yona’s dream was supposed to be. Or maybe Silverstream’s. Gallus’s? She’d never been kicked out of a shared dream before. The last impressions of feeling she had weren’t of shock or fear. They were more… mild surprise, which they’d been feeling ever since not-Twilight had shown up. They hadn’t woken up because of the dream’s content; they’d artificially woken up, like they’d been stuck with a metaphysical pin. By a tree(!).

“Alright,” Moondog muttered, flexing her wings, “better keep a close eye on these guys, just in case things go sideways for them.” With something that powerful, it always paid to be careful. Even if the “something” was a tree(?). She looked at the lack of dream for another moment, then pulled out her students list again. “So who’s next?”

To Moondog’s relieved surprise, those six students weren’t the least bit traumatized by their interaction with the tree(!!). In fact, they seemed uplifted, happier. And not even because of any mental magic, but completely naturally. The kind of bubbly feeling most ponies and nonponies got after spending a day with their friends. Which was probably attributable to the six of them being friends and spending a day with each other, but still. It meant the tree(?!) endangering them was the last thing on their minds.

So what the heck was up with that first night?

Moondog knew she shouldn’t worry. Moondog knew the tree(!?) didn’t mean any harm. Moondog knew the tree’s meddling probably wouldn’t cause any damage to the students’ psyches. But if the tree was going to cause nightmares like that, even unintentionally, she needed to do something about it. Hopefully a disappointed tsk and a little informational speech would do the trick.

She just needed to know what that… thing was so she could find it again. Identifying a superpowerful being of unknown origin based solely on an impression gleaned over a few seconds at a distance. Moondog could uncover the mystery person through that alone, right?

“You mean the Tree of Harmony?” said Smolder.

Talking to people was so easy.

“It’s where the Elements of Harmony come from.” Smolder took another sip of tea. “Because when I think ‘all-powerful friendship laser batteries’, I think ‘edible tree’. Although I guess it’d be ‘edible treehouse’, now.”

Understanding them? Not so much.

“It’s helped me and my friends in the past, so I guess we have some kinda weird connection to it now or something, I dunno.” Smolder shrugged, wrinkling the ruff of her dress. “Magic schmagic stuff, y’know?”

“Yes. I certainly know.”

“And Sombra destroyed it like a week ago, so it called out to me and my friends for help, we argued a little about the best way to help, and then it turned into a treehouse. No, I don’t get it either. Cool place, though, even if Silverstream doesn’t want me to taste it. I wasn’t gonna break anything! Just lick the walls. What is it with harmony and crystals, anyway? Do the powers that be want dragons to eat harmony? Next thing you know, us dragons’re gonna find something that embodies wrath, only it’s gonna be a chocolate eclair and all the artifacts of wrath it spawns are gonna be twinkies.”

“In Equestria, that’s practically a given.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever,” Smolder said, rubbing her chin. “Getting supreme magic powers by eating mini cakes…”

It really was a tree. What the booger. At least Moondog had a path to follow. And if the Tree(‽) really did have a connection to the students, then getting its attention (and hopefully not getting metaphysically squished in the process) required nothing more than finding that connection and following it. Considering making good dreams required all sorts of following psychological connections, Moondog was quite good at that.

Smolder got to her feet and walked over to look Moondog in the eye. “Why’d you want to know the Tree of Harmony anyway, Torch? You’re not even Dragonlord anymore.”

Moondog set his teacup, not much more than a speck of dust in Torch’s tremendous talons, back on the table on his snout. “No reason,” he rumbled as he straightened his bowtie.

After a moment, Smolder nodded. “Seems legit.”

As helpful as she was, Smolder’s mind was a bit too temperamental for the sort of connection Moondog wanted. Maybe she just had a dragon’s fiery personality, but her mind couldn’t sit still for very long. Moondog needed a calmer — or at least more consistent — mind to make any links with the Tree easier. She didn’t want contact with one of Equestria’s most powerful beings to be interrupted just because the dreamer she was using suddenly started thinking about cats at the wrong moment.

So: of the six students (five if you didn’t count Smolder), which one of them was most likely to get fixated on a single idea, preferably one they liked, if you dropped it in front of them, to the point of near-exclusion of just about everything else?

Silverstream squealed with glee as she slid down the banister of the endless spiral staircase, the Trottler Effect turning her into a siren. “-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-!”

MOV     $md, PCRMOV     $md, PBTMOV     $md, PAV

Moondog did her best to ignore her, instead sifting through her subconscious, trying to find any possible link to the Tree of Harmony. Telepathy was weird like that. There might or might not be any node between either end of the connection. For all Moondog knew, the Tree might actually be powerful enough to contact the students spontaneously. But until she’d gone over everything with a fine-probed arcanometer (twice), Moondog wasn’t going to give up.

Acceleration finally overtook Silverstream’s grip and she rolled off the banister and right into Moondog. Right through Moondog, to be precise, as the latter puffed into smoke as Silverstream hit her. Her probing experienced no disruption and Silverstream kept rolling, coming to a stop on her back.

“Woo!” Silverstream screamed from the floor, thrusting her fists into the air. “Fourth! Best! Stairs! Ever! Yeah!” She twirled back onto her feet and hopskipped over to Moondog. “Hi!” she (literally) chirped. “Whatcha up to?”

dreamer.getLucidity();return: FALSE;setAudacityLevel(11);

“Jury-rigging your mind to telepathically connect to the Tree of Harmony,” Moondog replied. “I’ve got some questions I want to ask it.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Moondog kept fiddling with Silverstream’s unconscious as much as she dared. Regardless of how much she wanted to talk to the Tree, there was no way in Tartarus she was going to risk anybody’s mind for that. Even if that meant discarding her search for the Tree entirely, Moondog would never hurt an- There was the link — more of an imprint, really, left over from a real link — right in a primal part of the mind. What was the point in making dramatic vows if you never had to hold yourself to them?

“So… you look kinda spaced out…” Silverstream waved a claw in front of Moondog’s face. “Should I come back later, or…?”

“Yeah, I need a few.” Moondog waved vaguely at the staircase.

“A few what?”

“You know. A few.”

“Oooooh. Gotcha. See ya later!” Silverstream hopped on the railing again and her sliding quest recommenced.

Part of Moondog wanted to send a small glob of power down the link to get the Tree’s attention. That part was wrestled into submission by the larger, saner rest of her, which knew she might as well just stab the Tree in the eye with a knitting needle (assuming the Tree was the kind of… entity that had eyes that were sensitive and physical and just as vulnerable to knitting needles as ponies’). Even if the Tree was willing to forgive that, sweet Aunt Celly you don’t stab people in the eyes with knitting needles. Instead, Moondog composed a brief message:

SpellMessage sm = new SpellMessage();sm.compose();

Tree of Harmony,

Could we talk? It'd be nice if you could contact ponies without scaring any pants they may or may not be wearing off them. Maybe I can help.

A concerned dreamwalker

sm.send(treeOfHarmony);

And now Moondog just had to wait for a reply. It couldn’t be that hard, right? The Tree would get the letter and respond quickly. If not, well. She could be patient.

Within a few minutes, she’d eaten her tail off, put it back on, eaten it again as a different species, repeated those after adding some garnish to make it taste better, played buckball with her head, wondered what ethereal gravity-defying bedhead looked like on Mom or Aunt Celly, and redesigned the dream from top to bottom three times. How could ponies stand waiting for letters? It took so long. And maybe doing this when she was needed most was kind of a bad idea. What was she supposed to say to Mom? Yeah, sorry I didn’t do much work last night, I was sending letters to the Elements of Harmony’s mom. (And was that even the right possessive?)

“I think I done goofed,” she said to Silverstream.

“-EEEEEEEMAYBEYOUDIDEEE-!”

“Maybe the Tree needs a knitting needle in the eye,” Moondog muttered. It’d certainly get the thing’s attention. Deep breath. “One more minute.” She rolled onto her back and stared up.

A few moments later, she felt it. The nagging knowledge that she was being watched. The dream twitched, like something was pressing in from the outside. Something big. Moondog was on her hooves in an instant. The dream would probably fall to pieces without her help. She reached out with her magic, patching up the dream where she could, rebuilding it where she couldn’t. Hallways extended and widened, ceilings soared, stairs started moving. Nothing was trying to break the dream, but then, an avalanche didn’t “try” to break anything, either.

The flexing stopped and the dream settled, still mostly pleasant. But now there was someone standing in front of Moondog: a not-exactly alicorn, almost twice as tall as she was, with a young face and gnarled, barklike skin that made it look old. Its mane was the fronds of a weeping willow, its wings and feathers branches and leaves. Light glinted off it like it was covered in morning dew (or perhaps the light came from within). It turned its eyes — one sky-blue, the other bright viridian — towards Moondog, and it was all she could do to not flee the dream entirely. It radiated power like the sun radiated light, to the point of nearly making the dream around it nearly impossible to change. Even knowing that the figure wasn’t hostile didn’t make it less terrifying. It inclined its head. “Hello,” said the Tree of Harmony.

gulp();

“Escalators escalators escalators!” squealed Silverstream.

“Um. Hiiiiiii.” Moondog jerked her hoof back and forth in what was supposed to be a wave. If she’d been physical, her throat would’ve been dry. As it was, a lot of automatic protective spells were trying to get her away and into more familiar territory. “I hope you’re not busy, I just want to talk, you don’t need to get upset or worried…” By what? It could probably squish me flat in an instant! “I’m-”

“Moondog the Tantabus, magically-created child of Princess Luna of the Moon.” The Tree smiled. “I do my best to keep up on current events, you know.”

Moondog took a step back and rubbed at the base of her horn. “Whoof,” she muttered. “So that’s what I feel like.” She cleared her throat and spoke up. “And, uh, you are?”

The Tree’s smile slipped a little. “I think you know perfectly well who I am. Why do you ask?”

“Um. Habit.”

gulp();fileQuestion("Can I get rid of these biological reflexes? I don't know how ponies stand them.");

“But, well, are you seriously a TREE?!”

Said Tree didn’t miss a beat. “Asked the self-aware, self-perpetuating blob of mental magic.”

Moondog raised a hoof declaratively, paused, and lowered it. “Oh, snappeth,” she muttered. But she smiled a little.

“And, in essence, yes. I am a tree. The Tree of Harmony.” The Tree(!!!) spread its wings, shedding emerald sparks. “I was birthed from the combined magic and will of the Pillars of Equestria to protect this land in their absence.”

“I was birthed from my mom’s selective laziness, so I kinda think you have me beat there.”

“In spite of my strength,” said the Tree, tilting its head, “it took me over a millennium to simply be aware of myself, which you managed in a mere moon. It is there that you have me beat.”

“I guess we’re-”

--Error; OffTrackException e

“Never mind.” Moondog took a deep breath. “So. Um. Like I said, are you, uh, gonna give those six students nightmares whenever you visit them, like you did three nights ago? Or just now? ’Cause, uh, that’s kind of a bummer for them, you know?”

self.smile(MOOD.Nervous);

The Tree folded its wings and looked contemplatively at Silverstream (“I’m walking up the down escalator! Somebody stop meeeeeeee!”). Eventually, it said, “It is also the best I can do. My first contact with them had them facing their fears. It was… how I knew them. How I first found them. That connection persisted, in spite of its undesirable location.”

At what point did contradicting someone turn to “mouthing off”? After a long time, Moondog hoped. “Right. But, uh, even if you found them through their fears, did, did you need to talk to them through them?”

The Tree’s ears twitched slightly back and it folded its wings tightly. “In my defense,” it declared, not quite meeting Moondog’s eye, “I was dead.”

“Very true. That would throw off anyone’s game,” Moondog conceded. “So. Um.” Her tail twitched. “I guess you’re just… kinda…” She gestured vaguely. “…new at this?”

“Quite.” The Tree’s wings twitched. “Directly untangling the minds of other beings is, I fear, not one of my stronger suits, and I doubt it ever shall be. Even shaping myself to the point that we are mutually comprehensible is an effort.”

Moondog opened her mouth, caught herself before she could say anything stupid, thought it over, and said, “I can help with that. Maybe. The first part, at least. I mean, working with people’s minds is kinda my thing, so-” She shrugged to cover up the way her mind was racing. What was she doing, thinking she could teach the Tree of Harmony anything?

Maybe there was a reason the Tree had taken on Twilight’s form earlier; the hopeful eagerness on its face had the same dorky quality. (Or maybe its mannerisms were based on Twilight’s because hers was the first form it took. Who could tell with beings like this?) “If you could, that would be wonderful. It would do me good to more closely understand those I protect.”

“Plus, if you ever want to talk to somebody in their dreams, you can do it without scaring the snot out of them.”

The Tree chuckled. “That would be nice, yes. So, what would you suggest?”

“Well, first you-”

--Error; NullPointerException e

“…bduh. Um.” Moondog’s ears twitched. “Okay, uh, dreams being my thing means that teaching isn’t my thing, so, um, bear with me for a second, okay?”

“Very well.”

Moondog stared at the floor as she paced a circle. (Pacing in front of the source of the Elements of Harmony. Yeah, that was gonna do wonders for her reputation.) What was she thinking, offering to help like that? She barely knew the specifics of how pony minds interacted with each other, let alone someone like the Tree. Entering dreams was so second-nature to her that, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she could do anything to help the Tree; it would be like a pony trying to help another creature breath. And all this brainstorming wasn’t helped by the power still radiating from-

“Okay. Um.” Moondog cleared her throat. “First of all, do, do you think you could… not enter the dream with so much power? I mean… you’re… kinda affecting it just by existing.” She pointed at the Tree’s hooves.

“Hmm?” The Tree looked down. Images of Silverstream’s friends twisted together on the floor wherever it stood. “Ah. I suppose I can try.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. The magic that the Tree had been exuding didn’t stop, not completely, but now it was far closer to Mom than a bottomless wellspring of arcane energy. The Tree’s image flickered and shrank a little and it hiccuped. “Like this?” it asked.

Moondog poked at the pictures on the floor. They vanished with barely any effort. “Yeah! Yeah, just like that.” Moondog nodded. “See, I think that, since you know them by the bits of their mind that are related to their fears, if you enter their dreams with too much power, you stimulate those bits, and boom! Nightmares.” Huh. That almost sounded logical.

The Tree examined a hoof and flexed its body. “Yes, that does make sense.”

“And, uh, while you’re here, I might as well teach you about different parts of the mind. Just in case, you know?”

“While that sounds like an excellent idea, I worry about our… host. She won’t be harmed, will she?” They both looked at Silverstream.

“Escalator slinkies escalator slinkies escalator slinkies!” squealed Silverstream.

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” said Moondog. “Just don’t touch anything.” After a bit of hesitation, she reached out, took the Tree’s hoof, and pulled back the dream to expose the subconscious underneath.

dreamer.viewSource();

Sensation overtook perception as the pair dove upwards through memory and thought. A rush of emotions whirled around them and they flitted across the tide effortlessly. They soared beneath urges, pirouetted over desires, slammed through phobias. With every turn, every loop, Moondog pointed out what was what, guiding the Tree through the psyche of the stair-obsessed hippogriff. This axis was a fundamental need, those currents were idle wishes, this epicenter was a deep-rooted insecurity…

(It actually wasn’t remotely like any of that, but Ponish doesn’t have the words to properly describe it.)

MOV     $md, PFRPOP     $tr, $mdMOV     $md, PWNPOP     $tr, $mdMOV     $tr, PURPOP     $md, $trMOV     $tr, 1

They returned smoothly, with Silverstream experiencing no change to her irregularly scheduled dream; she just kept screaming with glee as she cartwheeled down an escalator. Moondog shook herself down, head to hoof, and wrung a few stray thoughts from her mane. “So, um, yeah,” she said. She flexed her wings. “That’s Silverstream’s head.”

The Tree was as doubled over as a quadruped could be, its hoof on its head and panting heavily, all but sweating. “Dear me,” it mumbled, “there’s so much…”

Moondog grinned crookedly. “A leetle bit more than honesty, laughter, kindness, and all the others, amIright?”

“I knew there would be, but the scale…” The Tree took a deep breath and straightened up. It was still shaking a little. “Thank you for your… hem, tutelage. I… I need some time to think about this.”

“That’s fine, because I think I’ve spent a bit too much time here, anyway. There’s the whole rest of the dream realm to look after.” Moondog gestured vaguely in all directions. “But if you’ve got more questions, you know whe- Wait, you don’t.” She put a hoof on the Tree’s chest.

ts = new TrackingSpell(self);tree.embed(ts);

“Okay, now you know where to find me.”

The Tree was still paying Moondog no attention. It took a few drunken steps to one side and collapsed. Moondog conjured up a beanbag chair beneath it so it had something to collapse onto. “And you… go through this every night.”

“Weeellllll, not that, exactly,” said Moondog, rubbing the back of her neck. “That’s a bit headier than what I’m used to. Should’ve mentioned that it was a bit overwhelming, but I assumed… you being the… y’know, millennium-old gal and all… you would’ve… already…” But if the Tree had already seen that, why had Moondog needed to show it anything? Stupid.

The Tree lay on the beanbag, staring at nothing with a glazed look in its eyes. Moondog awkwardly shuffled her weight from one hoof to another as Silverstream screamed in the background (“Variable-speed escalators!”). After a long moment, Moondog coughed. “You’re… um… okay, right? ‘Hey, Mom, guess what? I just fried the Tree of Harmony’s brain thing.’” She delicately poked the Tree with her mane.

The Tree’s own mane batted Moondog away. “I am fine. I apologize. My social skills are worse than yours.”

“Whoof. That’s pretty bad.”

“I may contact you again in the future. Regardless of teaching not being your thing, I feel you did quite well.”

“Um.” Moondog straightened up a tad. “Thank you.” Pause. “You know, this is going to keep going on, isn’t it? Me helping you navigate pony minds, you telling me about… whatever it is you do. We’re gonna keep it up, one thing’s gonna lead to another, and then, bam! Equestria’s two main protective not-quite-beings are inseparable.”

“Considering how friendships can form, I would not be surprised.”

“Then it’s settled.” Moondog threw a leg as best she could over the Tree’s withers and swept a hoof out like she was displaying a sign. “Moondog and the Tree of Harmony, babuffs!”

The Tree tilted its head.

“Best Arcane Being Buddies Forever.” Moondog released it.

“Babuffs indeed,” the Tree laughed. “Between our own needs, we must part here. Vale, amice.” And she was gone.

“Hey!” yelled Moondog indignantly, flaring her wings. “That’s my catchphrase!” She huffed and rolled her eyes. “The nerve of some trees,” she muttered.

“I know, right?” hollered Silverstream. “Spiral escalators spiral escalators spiral escalators!”

Machine Teaching II: Oneiric Boogaloo

Twilight took a deep breath in. She let it out slowly. She reached into the fabric of her dream and plucked at a few threads. Just like she’d intended, the castle’s library appeared around her, tables and chairs sliding into existence as shelves unfolded from nothing. She could smell the library’s appearance, literally — as more and more of the library existed, Twilight picked up on more and more of that wonderful unread book smell. (Starlight claimed it didn’t exist, but Spike knew what she was talking about.) Twilight closed her eyes and an armchair plumped up around her. She wiggled into the cushions, sighing happily.

A tiny little something sparked in front of her and Twilight could (somehow) tell that the “something” was “someone”. She didn’t open her eyes. “Luna or Moondog?”

“Ooooo, nice. You’re sharp,” said Luna’s voice.

“Moondog.”

“…Too sharp,” grumbled Moondog’s voice.

Twilight opened her eyes. Across from her, Moondog was lounging across Luna’s throne like it was an easy chair, wearing Luna’s two-sizes-too-large regalia. “Luna doesn’t go, ‘ooooo’,” said Twilight. “That made it pretty obvious.”

Moondog facehooved. “Right. I knew I was forgetting something.” She looked around the library. “You know, this is pretty good.”

“Thanks. I’ve been trying to get better at dream magic, and making something I already know seemed like a good place to start. I tried making a brand new library from scratch, but that… didn’t go so well.” Twilight shivered. “All those erasers…”

“You know dream-managing’s gonna be my thing when Mom retires, right?” Moondog twirled the crown around with her mane.

“Yes! Of course. I just want to keep expanding my horizons, but I don’t have a lot of horizons available at the moment. Dream magic’s really all I have time for right now.”

“Alright.” Moondog kicked the shoes off and tossed the crown and peytral away. “If you ever want any help, I’m around.” She chucked the throne into a corner, staying sprawled in the air.

“So what’re you here for?”

“You know how you and I kind of talked about me subbing for a day after Ocellus suggested it? Well, her saving Equestria from Cozy Glow is kind of a big deal, so…” Moondog took a deep breath. “I’m willing to teach for a day.”

It was only with great effort that Twilight managed to keep herself from exploding with glee. “You know you don’t need to, right?” she said as calmly as she could.

“Yeah, but I think Ocellus has earned it, and I might need to go into the real world more once Mom retires. Practice.”

Twilight discarded that effort and pounced. “Oh Celestia this is great!” she squealed, hugging Moondog tighter than a stress toy. “I’d hoped you would at some point! I just didn’t think right now! Illusion is such a great teaching aid and with somepony — somebody, sorry — as good as you using it, we can-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Twilight nearly collapsed as Moondog evaporated out of her grasp. “I know how good I can be, thank you.” Moondog reformed on the now-vacant chair. “So do you have anything you want me to teach?”

“Like a specific topic?” Twilight asked as she turned around. She frowned, tapped her chin, and fell backwards into a duplicate of the first chair. “Not really. I usually leave that up to the teachers, since they know what they’re good at. I guess I’d suggest history, since you did so well with Gallus that one time, but that’s really up to you. Do you want some time to think about it?”

“If I’m going to choose, then yeah.” Moondog stretched herself out over the sides of the chair. “I don’t want to do something anybody else could do. I’ll let you know when I decide and we can go from there.”

“Right.” Twilight gave her cushions a little more stuffing. (She was allowed to indulge!) “And, as much as I want you to, you don’t have to teach if you don’t think you can do it justice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I still wanna try.” Moondog stroked her chin and stared at the ceiling. “It’s just… If I sub, it’s gotta be something special.”

“Did you hear?” Ocellus near-squealed. “Moondog is our guest speaker today and she’s teaching econ!”

“What’s econ?” asked Smolder.

“Economics.”

Smolder tilted her head. “Uh…”

“Studying the buying and selling of stuff.”

“Oh. That. The Dragonlands don’t really have that.”

“I know, right? How could you even export lava? Although obsidian would be pretty neat…”

The first bell for the day hadn’t rang yet, so the entire school was still in that opening hours funk of not-quite liveliness as the faculty and students made their way to their first classes. Smolder and Ocellus were ambling their way from the cafeteria, Smolder still sucking on a sapphire and rather dexterously still managing to speak clearly. She turned the gem over in her mouth, licked a facet clean, and asked, “Who are they, again?”

“I told you, it’s Moondog! This is great, she-”

“Wait.” Smolder flared a wing to bring Ocellus to a stop. “Moondog? That… dream thingy Headmare Twilight studied last year? That helped you and Gallus study for that one test? That Moondog?”

“I know! This is so exciting!” Ocellus’s excited buzzing was so fast and so loud it could supply the sounds for an entire swarm of bees. “I’d asked if she’d ever sub in the future but she said no but then we saved Equestria so she-”

“But…” Smolder frowned at nothing in particular as her mind ran through different options. “If she’s… how can… since…” She pointed every which way as she attempted to sort it all out.

“Because magic.”

“Is ‘because magic’ Ponish slang for ‘I don’t have a freaking clue but I don’t wanna admit it’?”

“Probably.” Ocellus wiggled a hoof noncommittally as they started walking again. “And if it isn’t, it really should be. But I tried understanding! It’s just that most of the terms flew over my head and-”

Ocellus was on a roll, so Smolder smiled and nodded as she pretended to listen. Because, well, dreams and the real world didn’t mix like that. Right? If they did, she’d hear about it more. Ocellus probably just misheard the name or something and got overexcited, like that time she got “marshmallow” and “Mellow Marsh” confused. There was no way Moondog could come out here. Smolder pushed open the classroom door.

“Hi!” said the smiling alicorn-shaped hole in space sitting at the teacher’s desk. “Just take a seat and wait for class to begin.” She gestured to the other desks. “Hey, Ocellus. Save ninety percent of your questions for after class, okay?”

Smolder was jarred out of her mini-coma of shock by Ocellus teakettling in her ear. “Doesn’t she look awesome?”

Ocellus pushed Smolder to a seat at the front of the room. For a moment, Smolder couldn’t look away from Moondog. Their sub was a sapient dream hole. One that looked like a princess pony, no less. She had the weird wavy mane and everything. And she was sitting at the desk like existing in the wrong universe was no big deal. It was… huh? Just… how? She didn’t know pony magic all that well — or at all, really — but-

That train of thought got derailed by Ocellus gushing so fast Smolder wondered when she’d stop to breathe. “-into Neighpoleon! The real deal! And I bet she even got the voice right but I can’t just ask Celestia about it and I don’t know her address anyway so-”

By the time Ocellus got to the part where she basically shanghayed Princess Luna’s sort-of daughter into acting out plays for her, Smolder decided to just roll with it. This was Ponyville, after all.

As more students filed into the room, Moondog began looking more and more nervous. By the time the bell rang to begin class, Smolder was sure that she’d shrunk an inch or two and that her mane wasn’t quite as floaty. “Lotta students,” she quietly squeaked. She blinked, shook her head, and cleared her throat. “Um. Hello. Class. My name is Moondog and, and I’ll be your teacher for, um, for today.”

A vague murmur of greeting, then silence. Somebody coughed. And for some reason, that seemed to give Moondog more confidence. She smiled and slapped her hooves together. “So! Um. Let’s get into it, shall we? Economics and trade. It’s a give-and-take relationship where nobody has everything but, ideally, everybody can get what they need or want. Just like friendships, if everyone has the same things, it’s boring. Flat. Dull. But if everyone brings something new to the table, well, then things get interesting.”

Smolder leaned over and whispered to Ocellus, “The six of us are proof of that.” She smirked.

“You know it.” Appendagebump.

“Now,” continued Moondog, “I’m sure you all know that. It’s not exactly mind-blowing. But it’s really hard to actually understand just how stupidly complex these interconnection webs can get, especially on large scales. So…” From beneath the desk, she pulled out a giant bucket of water — more like a tub, really — that Smolder was sure hadn’t been there before. “To start this day off, we’re going to play a little game, with everyone being a small part of a giant economic network.”

Somepony raised a hoof. “Is this going to be like that one time Professor Rarity had us sort out dyes from water?”

“Not exactly.” And Moondog upended the tub on the front row.

Twilight didn’t think Moondog needed help. No. Moondog could handle — had handled — far more dire things than a hoofful of maybe-maybe-not rowdy students. Moondog was perfectly capable of doing things on her own, and in spite of their agreements, she hadn’t come to Twilight for help yet, which was good news. Moondog was doing just fine by herself. Definitely. She had to be.

And so it absolutely wasn’t nerves that made Twilight teleport to Moondog’s classroom to check in on her barely ten minutes into first period. No. Twilight was just confirming her suspicions that Moondog was just fine. She totally wasn’t panicking. About anything. At all. NOPE. It was closer to mild anxiety, anyway!

Twilight raised a hoof to knock on the door, then thought better of it and put an ear to the keyhole. It was a bit louder than usual, but still within the parameters she’d designated for classroom volume level. Moondog was saying something Twilight couldn’t make out, but she wasn’t shouting. An almost-perfectly ordinary classroom. Right? Right.

She’s got this. You don’t need to worry.

Twilight sighed in relief and walked back down the hall. Then she turned around, sprinted back to the door, and knocked five times. She still totally wasn’t panicking. No, she was just being ABSOLUTELY SURE since she was already here and not checking would be a waste and she wasn’t panicking.

She waited for a response. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was interminably long, the waiting. What was up?

Two seconds after the last knock, Moondog called out, “Coming! Just gimme a sec!” Seven even more interminable seconds later, Moondog pulled the door open. The noise from the room was of student groups talking among each other rather than apathetic students having their own conversations (a hard distinction to make at times, but Twilight had practice). “Hey,” said Moondog casually. “You need something? Everything’s fine here, if that’s what you’re wondering. Although are classes normally this big?”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “Compared to a more traditional school, this is actually a pretty small class, which is good because…” She noticed what was behind Moondog. “…teachers can… be more…” She leaned to one side and her voice went flatter than Maud’s. “Why is the room flooded?” For behind Moondog, the desks had been pushed aside to create a miniature lake where the students were sloshing through knee-deep water, pushing tiny ships from shore to shore. An invisible wall kept the water from spilling out into the hallway.

“For science!” Moondog said, grinning.

Twilight didn’t raise her eyebrow. It teleported straight to its end position.

“We’re studying trade routes and how friendships can be economically beneficial to both parties, and to sub-parties within those parties,” Moondog said with a sigh. “I’ve set up a bunch of islands with fake countries based on different regions of Equestria and Zebrabwe and everybody’s running their own trading company.”

“And you needed to flood the room for that because…?”

“First of all, it’s an illusion. Look-” Moondog telekinetically grabbed a stack of paper from the desk. She dropped it underwater, held it there for five seconds, and pulled it back out. Water dripped from the stack, but none of the papers actually looked wet. “See? Second, making a map with moving trade ships is a way better visual than drawings on a chalkboard. More interactive, too.” She glanced over her shoulder, then whispered to Twilight, “I think Ocellus is about to try inventing piracy.”

“Ocellus?” Twilight looked over the students in attendance. “Not Smolder?” She surreptitiously dragged a hoof through the water. It responded with the expected ripples, but she didn’t feel a thing.

“Nah, Smolder’s discovered that she loves capitalism. Once you remove pillaging as an obvious way to get money, she’s pretty great with numbers, and- Wait.” Moondog frowned, then mused, “I wonder if we can teach her exponents in the form of wealth-acquisition word problems.”

“You have a magic coin that can split itself to create x coins, identical to the first,” said Twilight promptly. “Each of those coins can split to create x coins, and so on. If you do this n times, using all the coins from the previous creation phase, how many coins will you have once you’re done? And that’s x to the nth power. …Yeah, she might get into that. Maybe I can do the same with calculus…”

“But, yeah, things’re going fine. The students’re learning, they’re having fun with it, and-”

“Hey! Professor!” yelled Smolder. “Can Fen and I form a shipping cabal?”

“Not when you’re that open about it!” Moondog yelled back. “Cabals are secret!”

“That’s what I said!” squeaked Fennigan Fen. “It’s called a trade association!”

“But ‘cabal’ sounds way cooler! Can’t we just-”

“Do I want to know?” whispered Twilight as Smolder and Fen kept discussing terminology.

“Not a clue,” Moondog said with a shrug. “I don’t know yet. But you’ll probably want to know. I’ll keep you posted. Or maybe not.”

“Thank you. Um…” Twilight couldn’t help feeling a little envious as she took another look at the room. Those were some seriously good illusions. Maybe she needed to ask Moondog for help on more arcane matters than dream magic. “You keep doing what you’re doing.”

Moondog nodded. “Will do. Now scram. Maintaining this is a lot of work.”

Sandbar nibbled on the end of his quill and stared at the figures on the scroll. “So let me see if I’ve got this right,” he said slowly. “We send these fruits-” He pointed at their two-inch-long ship. “-to Berry Bliss so she’ll give us coal. On the way back, we stop at Headlong’s, Vellum’s, and Huckleberry’s ports, trading the coal for timber and metal. We use those to upgrade our port, then we send Berry Bliss more fruits and repeat the whole thing. After four trips-”

“Three,” said Yona. She pointed at a line. “Sandbar forget to carry one.”

“Huh. I did.” Scribble scribble. “So… Yeah, three trips, then we’ll have fast enough ships to start making the trip to Maple Grove, and… hmm hmm hmm… so then we can…” Sandbar frowned in thought for another few seconds, then his face lit up in a big smile. “Sweet sisters, Yona, you’re a genius! I never would’ve figured all that out.”

“Yaks best at interwoven goods distribution,” Yona said confidently.

“Definitely. So if we load-”

“Alright!” Moondog yelled. “One minute left! Make your last trades, everybody!”

“One minute? Crap!” Sandbar shooed their ship onwards. “Get going, you little ship! Just get one trip done!”

By the time the ship got back, barely any time was left to do anything, so Sandbar and Yona didn’t bother starting another trip. “Well, we had a good run,” Sandbar sighed. “Thanks for the help, Yona. I’ll never forget you, Heart of Manelothian,” he whispered to his little clipper.

Everything involved in the trading game — ships, land, water, resources — evaporated in an instant as everybody tallied up their earnings. (Sandbar’s and Yona’s impromptu team got fourth, which Sandbar was satisfied with.) Moondog sat on the desk like it was a chair. As her tail coiled its way around her rear legs, she looked over the class, swallowed, and, wings twitching, said, “Congratulations to all of you. You all did great and I bet you all learned something. Of course, real life isn’t a competition, but it definitely puts the benefits of friendship in perspective, right?”

A brief discussion period followed, with students asking questions about friendship and economics and Moondog answering them (or, once, admitting she didn’t know). For a dream golem, Sandbar mused, Moondog was remarkably well-read when it came to all the different econ terms and theories and such. Maybe she’d spent a few nights in an economist’s head to prepare. Finally, one student put her hoof up. “So if trade is this good for countries, why doesn’t everyone just trade with everyone?”

“Well…” The roof was ripped away in an intangible gale, a black storm raging above. Grinning, Moondog said, “That’s what we’re studying next.” A bolt of lightning flashed across the “sky”. “Oh, and the safe word is ‘vermilion’.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” screamed Sandbar.

Twilight really, truly wasn’t going to nervously check on Moondog during fourth period. No, she was just clearing up a minor issue in Fluttershy’s class (to be fair, nopony could’ve predicted jackalopes and ferrets would act like that to each other) and happened to be passing by Moondog’s room at the moment. But when you heard an honest-to-Celestia crack of thunder from the other side of a door, you had to check it out, if only to verify that now was definitely the time to run like Tartarus.

Twilight opened the door and received a blast of wind in her face. She blinked her surprise away to see… a ship. Specifically, the deck of a ship. The deck of a ship in a storm. Where her students were hauling on lines to keep the sails from ripping the mast apart. And this was economics? She marched inside, with the “deck” as still as a floor. Rain she couldn’t feel whipped at her face; thunder boomed again. Behind her, the door stood in empty space, still leading back to the school. She opened her mouth.

Moondog puffed into existence next to her. “Boo. Um, there’s a lot of students here, and-”

“What are you doing?” Twilight hissed. “This is-”

“More illusions since I’m not the best at lectures. Now that the students can see how bountiful trading-slash-friendship is, they also need to know how hard it can be to maintain. The storm is a metaphor for hard times, with the students working together to guide the ship — that’s a metaphor for friendship — through it. Look, we’re only doing this for like ten minutes, it’s not like-”

“And if you’ve got somepony who doesn’t want to be caught in a storm at sea?”

“Then they’d be sitting outside the illusion over there, peacefully taking notes.” Moondog pointed to a suspiciously calm corner of the sea. “I mean, yes I asked if they were all okay with it and let them back out. Seriously, what kind of poophead do you think I am? Discord?”

“I resent that,” scowled Discord.

“But this-” Twilight’s protest was cut short when the wind shifted; not-rain blew into her eyes. She reflexively wiped her face down. “Don’t you think this is a little overwhelming? It’s not-”

“Twilight, listen,” said Moondog tightly. “I got this. My entire freaking existence is based around making ponies feel comfortable. Do you really think I haven’t thought this through?” She scowled and flared her wings a little as thunder roared. “Because, honestly, I’m kind of insulted. Just a little.”

Putting a hoof on her chest, Twilight took a few deep breaths. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, ruffling her mane. “You’re right. It’s just- When I come in here and see… this…” She gestured around the storm-torn ship. “I… guess freaking out is kind of my first instinct.”

Moondog rustled her wings and looked at the ship. “I can’t really blame you for that,” she admitted. “Probably should’ve given you a warning or something. Want me to-?”

“No, you don’t need to do anything. I just need to trust you, in spite of-” Twilight glanced at the storm-torn sky; Moondog’s horn glowed and lightning flashed. “You’ll never do anything to hurt-”

“It’s back!” somepony yelled. “Scatter!” Twilight whirled to see a gigantic tentacle rising from the water crashing down on the deck — not on top of any of the students, thankfully. They had broken apart and were diving for weapons strewn across the ship. Yona was already hacking at the tentacle with a gigantic bug-off axe. With a yell, the other students descended on it like a swarm of maddened hornets.

Twilight made a face at Moondog that could best be described as confusion, anger, and surprise, pureed in a blender and squished by a steamroller.

“The kraken is a metaphor for ‘sea monster attacks are awesome’,” said Moondog, grinning. “Besides, the kids like it.”

Twilight’s head snapped back and forth between Moondog and the students. She was- But they- And this- How could- This was- If- Krakens weren’t- She shook her head to clear it and opened her mouth.

“By the way, Smolder and Fen compromised when Fen decided to call their group the Coal And Bullion Aquatic Line, coal and bullion being their main transports. Did pretty good, too.”

“Well- that’s not- We’re still-”

Moondog raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The tentacle thudded to the deck next to Twilight and didn’t go back up. She turned; the thick stub of the tentacle slid over the (unnaturally intact) gunwale. A dark shape fled through the water and a deep, keening moaning pierced the air.

“Krakens don’t make noises like that,” Twilight whispered to Moondog.

“I know, but the students think it’s cool,” Moondog whispered back.

As the severed tentacle slid bloodlessly off the ship, somepony yelled, “Woo! We did it! Nice one, Yona!”

Yona climbed onto a gunwale and roared, “Yaks best at destroying sea monsters!” The other students raised their weapons and screamed their approval.

And that made Twilight’s mind up. “Okay. I’m sorry I doubted you. Just-”

“I will. Or won’t, if it’s something I shouldn’t.” Moondog reached up and nudged a few clouds aside to let a single sunbeam lance down to the ship. “We’re almost done here, anyway.”

Twilight hoped so; the students were lying on the deck and panting like they’d sprinted the border of Ponyville. She turned to the door, ready to leave. Then she stopped and prodded the “space” next to the door. Her hoof bounced off the wall. That was a really good illusion. But she definitely wasn’t jealous of it. Definitely not.

Once Moondog declared the storm through, she let the class take a breather before moving on. Although the view from the ship was spectacular now that the storm was gone, Gallus only stared at his talons. Kraken goo was dripping from them, but he couldn’t feel a thing. When he tried shaking it off, it stuck like glue; whether because of the nature of the illusion or the nature of kraken goo, he wasn’t sure. Either way, the lack of feeling was beyond uncanny.

“-don’t roar like that,” huffed Silverstream, perhaps one of the rarest things to ever have happened, ever. “They don’t even have lungs! And the tentacles are way more flexible than that. At least it had a beak. But-”

“Do they have goop?” Gallus waved said goop in front of Silverstream’s face. “Because I want to either be clean or be mucked up because feeling one and seeing the other is really weirding me out.”

“Just shake it off. It’s not that sticky. At least, it shouldn’t be.” Silverstream glared at the slime like it’d murdered her family.

Gallus tried shaking harder, to little avail. “What’s with you? I’ve never seen you this angry before. And you were fine until-”

“The kraken was a terrible kraken!” Silverstream quietly screamed. “I’ve seen enough krakens to know and it was wrong wrong WRONG!” She screwed her beak up like she was going to start yelling, but she just sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Now I know how Ocellus feels when she reads fantasy with bad magic.”

“Alright, back to your desks!” yelled Moondog. The ship (and goo, thank goodness) folded itself out of existence. Desks were pushed back into position and class resumed as if the rollicking adventure on the high seas had never happened. (Which, technically, it hadn’t, but thinking of it like that made Gallus’s brain hurt.)

“And that’s what seafaring trade can be like when it’s not monotonous,” said Moondog. “More than a bit difficult, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A pony on the other side of the room was grinning smugly. “I kinda liked it.”

Moondog smiled back. “Did you? Do you think you’ll still like it the tenth time around? How about after the time the ship gets ripped in half? Or the time it happens after you’ve already been at sea for three months with no sign of land?”

The pony’s grin faltered. “Well…”

“Think of all the work you put in for the past ten minutes,” said Moondog. “Now imagine doing that all day every day for weeks on end. And suddenly it makes a lot more sense why we’re not trading everything with everyone. See…”

Normally, Gallus barely tolerated taking notes. Today… wasn’t all that different. Just because the teacher’s mane was weird didn’t mean her lectures were automatically more engaging. What was different was that the lectures were a lot shorter, since they’d already covered the basics in ten minutes of shipboard shenanigans. About two minutes after his attention began flagging, it returned when Moondog said, “But, of course, we can’t get over all this hardship if we don’t have it to begin with — say, because we never tried talking to anyone different. And convincing other countries to begin trade may or may not be trickier than it seems. For instance…”

A spark floated from Moondog’s horn. It drifted lazily to the front of the room, where it blossomed into a tall, lean zebra with a brass earring and a rough fabric shawl. She looked over the class and cocked a grin. “Well. Isn’t this quite the colorful cadre of creatures.”

Moondog threw a leg over the zebra’s shoulders; the zebra rolled her eyes and looked away. “This is Maelewano,” said Moondog. “She’s from a time centuries ago when zebras were still living in small nomadic tribes, highly shamaristic, and not yet unified. Now, who wants to try convincing her to ally with Equestria?”

After a second, Gallus’s and Silverstream’s claws shot up.

When it came to sixth period, Twilight had no excuse. She was just curious. She cracked open the door to Moondog’s room and held her breath.

Nothing was strange. Just the students, their desks arranged in a half-circle around Silverstream apparently debating with an abada. Moondog was sitting on — not at, on — her desk next to an egg timer, watching. Twilight felt a bit cheated, if she was being honest with herself. From stormy seas to this? Well, at least it seemed to be working. She closed the-

-wait. Since when did an abada come all the way to Equestria for anything less than two crates of silver?

Twilight looked again. The short brown bicorn couldn’t be anything other than an abada. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the slight haze of illusion. Silverstream was looking flustered, as if she didn’t know what she was doing and was ready to start hovering to beat off some of her anxiety. “-ought to be good… right?”

“Good? Good?” said the abada in a Trottinghamian accent (which didn’t sound remotely like the usual abadic accent), “My dear griff, you insult me! My expenses in simply coming here are great, and you cannot expect Nagarabada to initiate trade with Equestria based purely on three measly crates of silver!”

“Okay, okay!” said Silverstream, her wings swirling nervously. “Uh…” She nibbled at a talon. “Maybe, if we…”

The timer went off. “Oooo. Nice try, Silverstream, but sorry,” said Moondog. “You’re up, Melody.” A forlorn Silverstream took a seat next to Gallus while a pale blue unicorn stepped in front of the abada. “Okay, so maybe three crates was lowballing it,” said Melody, “but-”

Twilight tiptoed over to Moondog. “Okay, now I’m curious,” she whispered. “What?”

Moondog twisted the timer up to two minutes and let it run. “Different countries trade for different things, like different friendships need different things, and first impressions aren’t always right. They all take turns talking to this or that representative, learning about them to convince them to trade using a limited pool of supplies. And abadas want money.”

“-most effective alliances in history!” Melody said, throwing her legs wide and grinning.

“And is your vaunted friendship accepted at any of the world’s major banks?” snapped the abada. “What is its liquidity ratio?”

Melody’s grin faltered. “It’s- Uh-”

Twilight nodded to herself. “This isn’t a bad idea. Besides the intended lesson, it’ll help students hone their interpersonal skills, especially if you give each diplomat a different personality.” She glanced sideways at Moondog. “Which-”

“Yes, I’m doing,” Moondog said. “And it keeps their attention off me.” She pointed to the class with a wing. “I mean, that’s a lot of students.”

“…If by ‘a lot’, you mean ‘eleven’.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

Twilight glanced at the small amount of students in the room. At Moondog. She tilted her head quizzically.

The timer went off again, interrupting the abada while she was in the middle of declaring that honor needed coupons. Melody was a bit miffed as she returned to her seat; Gallus stopped scratching Silverstream’s back and moseyed up to the abada. Moondog didn’t have time to start the timer before Gallus said flatly, “One crate. Take it or leave it.”

“Very well,” huffed the abada. “We shall leave it.” She turned around, nose in the air, and vanished in a shower of sparks.

“She was never gonna agree to anything we said, was she?” Gallus asked Moondog as he returned to his seat.

“Nope,” said Moondog. (Twilight took a few steps back so she wouldn’t draw the students’ attention away.) “Not while you wanted to save enough resources to be friends with everyone else, anyway. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just won’t be able to be friends with someone.”

“Blasphemy!” giggled Silverstream.

“It’s just heresy at worst,” said Twilight. “And it’s not wrong. Two people really can be different enough that friendship won’t work between them.” (The entire classroom gasped.) “It’s nothing to do with one hating the other, they just don’t click.” She shrugged.

“Of course, you need to put some effort into making friends with them before saying it won’t work,” Moondog added. “In the real world, you might be able to eventually make friends with someone, but two minutes ain’t gonna cut it. For instance…” She opened up a hole in the air; a muscular zebra with a feathered headband, a long assegai, and tribal markings over a thousand years old stumbled out. “Say hello to Kiburi.”

Kiburi shook her head to straighten her mane out and glared fiercely at the class. “Hmph. This is what Equestria sends as their best? Pfah. You foals wouldn’t last a day in the Ugwadube.”

“Now. Who wants to go first?” asked Moondog. To Twilight’s surprise, several hooves went up. “Alright… Heat Wave. Go ahead.”

Once again, Twilight bemoaned the responsibilities that came with headmare as she watched Heat Wave head up front far more cheerily than he probably should have. Watching the students’ progress would be great, but she had to look at some grants that needed approval (or rejection; seriously, why would you need a ball pit that big?). Before she left, she said to Moondog, “Keep it up.”

Twilight managed to stay away from Moondog’s class for the rest of the day, and that was only partly because of Pinkie’s banking accident. (When the message first came, she thought she’d heard an “N” where there wasn’t one, but Pinkie never had baking accidents.) By the time the last bell rang, she was almost thinking of Moondog as an ordinary teacher who just happened to be exceptionally skilled in illusion magic. Almost. She still wondered if she was missing anything unique.

But she might want some help with “closing up”. Celestia knew Twilight’s own first few days of teaching had been hectic. Five minutes after the school day had ended, Twilight returned to Moondog’s classroom one last time in case she was needed. When she opened the door, Moondog had draped herself over the front desk (about an inch over, to be precise), a pile of papers at her side. She looked like she was either sleeping or had been knocked out. Moreso the latter somehow; it looked like the stars in her body weren’t twinkling as brightly as usual and a few of the usual constellations were off. She wasn’t breathing, but that probably didn’t mean anything.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Um. Moondog?”

One of Moondog’s eyes slipped open. “Hey,” she said dully. She collapsed into a shapeless purple mass, flowed off the desk, and reformed on her legs in front of Twilight, her head hanging a bit. “Sorry. Long day.” Then she snapped her wings to her sides, held her head high, and smiled. “You need me for anything?” she asked, her voice chipper again.

“No, just checking in.” Twilight snuck a quick glance at the papers; they seemed to be worksheets. “How was your first teaching job?”

“Second, actually, but. Ehm.” Moondog was silent for a touch longer than usual. “Fine. Fine. It was fine. Students were fine, I think they learned a lot, and, y’know. Fine.” A pause. “I am done for the day, right? I don’t need to do anything else?”

“Not with students, but-”

“Good.” Moondog went completely limp and floated in the air rather than falling. She hung her head and moaned, “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“-you still need to-”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“-grade their work-”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“-and get it back to me-”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“-before the week is up-”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“-so we know how they’re doing.”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

“…”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Grading papers is not that bad.”

“-uuuuuuuuuuuuu. It’s not that,” rasped Moondog. “I’ve been using the wrong magic in the wrong universe non-stop for hours and I ache. Everywhere. Literally everywhere. My horn aches, my eyes ache, my tongue aches, my thoughts ache, and it’s uuuuuuuuuuuuuu. Even gravitying is hard. Gravity suuuuuuuuuucks.”

The science side of Twilight was about to respond that gravity didn’t work like that when feelings caught up with reality and she got blindsided by anxiety. She was partly the reason Moondog was out here to begin with and Moondog being a master of illusion — leading to this — was exactly what she’d wanted. “You’re… okay, right? You still have enough magic to exist-”

“On the dead-not-dead spectrum, I’ve got plenty of life left in me,” Moondog mumbled as she dangled limply in the air. “But it’s like I just ran two ultramarathons in a row. If I ever thought I was gonna die, trust me, I’d let you know. I’m not that stupid.”

Twilight nodded slowly, but she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, no matter how irrational that was. She was partly the reason Moondog was out here to begin with and Moondog using her skills as a master of illusion — leading to this — was exactly what she’d wanted. Although Moondog was a being of pure magic, so maybe… “Would you mind if I tried to just… charge you up? Maybe replenishing your reserves would help with your arcanic aching.”

“Give it a shot,” Moondog groaned.

Twilight wasn’t sure how a reservoir of dream magic would react to an infusion of thaumic magic, so she only dumped a little bit of energy into Moondog. No adverse reaction, so she upped the amount. Again and again, nothing bad happened. In fact, the stars in Moondog seemed to grow brighter. After the fifth dump, Moondog waved Twilight off. “Okay, that’s good.” She rolled over in the air and alighted on the floor, flexing her wings in anatomically-impossible ways. “Not great, but I don’t feel like I’m going to fall apart anymore.” Her feathers fell out, replaced with leathery membranes, only for the membranes to pluff back into feathers. “Urgh. Thanks. Note to self: don’t use that much magic out here ever again. Ow.” She hit herself on the head a few times and her “flesh” disintegrated into dust, leaving behind a skeleton.

“Sorry about asking you to use illusions. I didn’t know-”

“Oh, pfft, that’s not your fault. I was too ambitious and way overextended myself.” Moondog’s body started growing back inch by inch. “If I ever sub in the future — which ISN’T a guarantee! — I’ll be less extravagant.”

“Knock knock.” Ocellus leaned into the room. “Professor Moondog, I-” She froze when she saw Moondog. In the time it took Twilight to blink, Ocellus had zipped up to Moondog and was staring at where the flesh was growing back. “Cooooooool,” she whispered. “That’s all accurate. So when’re you gonna teach biology?”

“A week after I manage to relate zombification to friendship.”

“So, about seven moons? Please say it’s seven moons. Or less!” Bzzzzzzz.

Moondog made a Face at Twilight, which was impressive considering she only had half a face to begin with.

“Anyway, um, I forgot to bring you this this morning.” Ocellus pulled an apple from her saddlebags. “It’s from Professor Applejack’s latest batch. Thank you so much for teaching us! It was one of the best classes I’ve had!”

“Oh, no, you keep it.” Moondog pushed the apple back to Ocellus. “Thank you, really, but you’ll get more out of it than me.”

“That’s why I also took some for myself.” Ocellus pushed back. “Come on, please? It’s tradition!”

A pause, then Moondog poofed back to normal. “If you insist.” She popped the entire apple into her mouth and swallowed it whole. “Mmm. Good apple, at least.” She reached down her throat, pulled out an apple core, and set it on the desk.

Ocellus blinked at the apple core, then shook her head. “Also, remember the ninety percent you told me to save for after class? Well, it’s after class, soooo…” She smiled hopefully up at Moondog and buzzed her wings.

Moondog rolled her eyes, but grinned. “You can go, Twilight,” she said, waving a hoof. “I got this.”

“I can see that,” Twilight said with a smile. Part of her wanted to stay and just watch Ocellus learn, but she had things that needed doing. Stupid responsibilities. “I really do need those grades, though.”

“I know,” said Moondog. She waved Twilight away. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“So, first question…” Ocellus cleared her throat. “How did you give those illusions feeling? I know it didn’t feel real, but everything I’ve read about illusions said you couldn’t feel them at all, since they were just light.”

Not wanting to interrupt the exchange of knowledge, Twilight just whispered, “Okayseeyoulater.” She backed up, her ears turned towards Moondog and Ocellus, until she bumped into the door. She turned around, put her hoof on the knob, turned around again, and ran back over to Moondog. “And I kinda need- Well, I guess not need, I don’t need them like I need air except I sorta do- kinda need them soon-”

“I know.” Moondog flared a wing that quintupled in size to separate herself and Ocellus from Twilight. “I’m getting to them. Git.” The timbre of her voice shifted as she turned back to Ocellus. “Anyway, there’s just a telekinetic field beneath the illusion that pushes outward, and-”

Twilight nodded, filed that information on telekinesis away for later, and left the room. She was halfway back to her office when another thought hit her and she teleported back. Pawing at Moondog’s wing, she said, “Also, see, the real world has timetables and-”

“Twilight, I swear, if you don’t leave me and Ocellus alone, tonight Aunt Celly is going to see every single embarrassing baby photo ever taken of you!” Some of the feathers parted into a slit for Moondog to glare out of. “Including that one.”

“Celestia already saw them all, that one inclusive. She and Mom got pretty friendly during my second year at CSGU.”

“But wouldn’t you have to keep changing the position of the fields yourself?” Ocellus asked, as if she hadn’t just heard the country’s heirs apparent bickering about grades and baby pictures. “To keep the feeling matching up with the shape, I mean.”

The gap in Moondog’s feathers vanished. “Not really,” Moondog said loudly. “See, the illusion already responds to touch, so-”

Twilight’s heart went a-pitter-patter and her wings twitched. “If I shut up about grades, can I listen in when you talk about magic?” she asked quickly. “I’ve never heard you talk about what using dream magic is like out here, and-”

“Fine.” Moondog’s wing retracted back to its normal size as she folded it up. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked before. You’re almost as bad as Ocellus.”

“Almost?” Twilight said indignantly. She wasn’t searching out knowledge as much as she could?

“I ask more questions than Princess Twilight?!” gasped Ocellus, her hooves going to her mouth. “Eeeeeeeee!”

Moondog facehooved. “Girls, girls, you’re both smartly pretty. Can you stop trying to win gold at the Equestrian Nerd Games and let me talk?”

“Sorry,” Twilight and Ocellus said simultaneously. They sat down next to each other.

Moondog looked at one, then the other. She gave them both “I’m watching you” gestures. “Okay. So…”

Nightmarewall

notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm);

The scroll hit Moondog in the head as he was directing the iron butterflies out the window. He idly picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder, to be reviewed later. By the time he got around to retrieving it, he was already thinking: why a scroll?

This was a dream and Moondog was well-used to getting his information telepathically. But whenever Mom or somepony (or somebuggy) else sent him a dream message in the usual way, it arrived as a scroll. A spell sending pure information through space that didn’t exist manifested itself as a scroll. Was the spell actually designed that way? Or was that just how pony minds parsed it? If the latter, Moondog probably saw it as a scroll because his mind was close enough to a pony’s to read it that way. Although it might be totally different.

“What do you think?” Moondog asked the armored manticore he was lounging on.

The manticore didn’t respond. Of course it didn’t; it was a manticore.

“Thanks for the insight.”

readSpellMessage(sm);

Moondog,

My brother, Shining Armor, said he wanted to talk to you if you had the chance and asked me to contact you for him. Do you think you could swing around and go check on him?

Thanks,
Twilight

“Over a thousand years, and Mom’s still the most notable oneiromancer even though she spends most of that time gone,” Moondog muttered as the scroll caught fire and threw it back. “She comes back and then suddenly you get new dream mages crawling out of the woodwork. Almost literally, if you look at Ocellus and the composition of the usual changeling hive.” He perched on the manticore’s head to look it in the eye, upside-down. “So what gives?”

The manticore eyed Moondog like he was a particularly succulent morsel. Apparently, the banquet in front of it was doing nothing for its appetite. It stayed silent. Manticores gonna manticore.

“I’ve seen literal rocks more talkative than you,” said Moondog, swatting at the manticore with his beard. “Real-world rocks. Maud found them. Oraculiths.” He rolled off the manticore and floated right in front of its face. “Although it’s not just after Mom comes back, it’s after she makes me. A lot of them came to me for help, not her. Unless ponies have been going to her for help and I just haven’t heard about it. Either way, though, that’s more dream mages all of a sudden.”

Still the manticore said nothing. Keeping in touch with their feline side, manticores rarely deigned to speak to anybody who wasn’t a manticore, and this one was no exception.

“But maybe we’re getting new dream mages because Mom’s back,” mused Moondog. “You’d expect good students to come from a good teacher, and she’s the best there is at what she does. Now the would-be oneiromancers’ve actually got somepony worth listening to. It just took a few years for them to get reacclimated to her.” He flared his wings and stretched in the air. “I’ll ask her about it.”

manticore.feedLine(MOOD.Random);

The manticore discarded one form of cattiness for another. “Are you going to leave or what?” it snapped.

“Rude,” said Moondog. He blew open a rift in the dream with a raspberry and rolled on through.

Moondog puffed out of nothing into Shining’s dream. The stallion of the hour was lounging on a watery beach in the bright moonlight as waves of sand broke on the shore, requiring ample repair work. Clouds wheeled through the birdy sky, singing the songs of their people and winning lots of awards for them. It was almost a shame to disrupt such a nice dream like this, really.

Moondog walked up to Shining and nudged. “Hey. Twilight said you wanted to see me?”

“Huh?” Shining opened his eyes. “Oh, hey! That was fast.” He smiled and rolled onto his hooves. He poked at the watery shore, then shook his head. “Um. Anyway, it’s an honor to meet you.” He threw a leg across his chest and bowed.

Moondog bowed in return. “The honor is mine. And don’t even THINK about taking it.”

“Too late. Anyway, do you offer training in dream magic?”

“Some.” Moondog flared a wing and held two of his feathers about an inch apart. “Technically, not really, but I can do it. Why?”

“I want to be able to protect Flurry Heart from nightmares if I can.”

eyebrow.raise();

“You know that’s my job, right?” Moondog asked, putting a hoof on his chest.

“And I have got servants to serve my family food every day, but I still like feeding Flurry myself. It’s a parent thing.” Shining shrugged. “Besides, things get pretty crazy around our family and I just want to reassure myself that she’s sleeping well. No, no-” He raised a hoof when Moondog opened his mouth to speak. “It’s got nothing to do with you. Or Princess Luna, while we’re at it. I trust both of you. I’m just being paranoid.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.” Moondog nodded in understanding. He got that feeling about Mom sometimes, even though she really, really, really didn’t need his protection. “That and being a prince is boring, right?”

“Oh, Celestia, yeeeessss,” moaned Shining, throwing his head back. “Half of it is sitting on my rump and smiling while Cadance does the talking and most of the rest is me chipping in with the right word once or twice a conversation. Sometimes I just want to do something that involves me walking somewhere. Or hitting something. Or- moving anything besides my mouth! Twily and I had a… little competition last week, and even though most of it involved patrolling, I liked it a lot more than-”

Moondog put a hoof on Shining’s mouth. “Whoa, simmer down, there,” he said. “I get it. I have my own little pet peeves.” He stepped back and ran a hoof through his mane. “I get what you’re asking — I mean, like, I understand it — but without a lot more work, I’d need to stop by every night to pull you into Flurry’s dreams, and after that, it’d probably be simpler for me to just do it myself.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Shining. “Just show me how to reach Flurry’s dreams and we’re good to go.”

“Yeah, see, that’s kind of the problem in the first place. Being able to leave your own headspace at all ain’t exactly what you’d call ‘easy’. There’s a reason Mom’s the only notable dreamwalking pony in Equestria.” Moondog paced, staring down at the sky. “I guess your emotional connection with Flurry would make it easier for you to enter her mind… More comfortable for her, too… But you’d still need to learn dreamwalking in the first place, which can take… whoof, I don’t know, moons.”

“Can’t you ask Twilight about it?” Shining said. “It doesn’t matter how smart you think she is, she’s smarter than that. She could probably come up with some kind of spell to help connect me to Flurry and only Flurry.”

“I don’t know,” said Moondog. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That’s never been made before. It’ll take a lot of work to convince Twilight to work on something that hard.”

“Hey, Twilight? I was wondering if you could help me help Shining by helping me make a dreamwalker amulet. Or charm or spell or whatever. Something to get him into Flurry’s mind more easily.”

“But mind, body, and spirit are all too closely bound to each other to separate the mind from the body artificially. Making something like that is supposed to be impossible.”

“No it won’t,” Shining said flatly.

“So of course I’ll help! If I manage to do one more impossible thing before the week is up, Discord will finally get off my back about being so strait-laced about the laws of physics and magic. Or so he says, anyway.”

“C’mon,” Moondog said with a wannabe-endearing smile, “can’t I have a joke?”

But Shining just rolled his eyes. “It’s a pretty bad joke. And trust me, I know bad jokes; I’m a dad.”

Moondog flared his wings. “Fair enough. I’ll talk with Twilight and let you know how it turns out. Anything else you want tonight?”

“No thanks.” Shining looked out over the sandy sea and the school of fishing flies soaring past. “This place is weird, but it’s nice.”

“Alright. Pleasure meeting you.” Moondog turned to leave, but one last thought ran through his mind. “Oh, and should I see if Cadance wants to join in?”

“Eh…” Shining rubbed his neck. “You can ask her, but I don’t think she’ll go for it. She’d love to do something adventurous like that, but she spends pretty much all day working already, so spending her nights also protecting Flurry on top of that would probably mean she’d feel like she’s just not getting any rest.”

“Alright. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“…so I’ll be asking Twilight if she can help, and I figured I’d see if you’re up for it.” Moondog flared his wings. “Interested?”

“Eh…” Cadance rubbed her neck. “Thanks for asking, but I don’t think I’ll go for it. I’d love to do something adventurous like that, but I spend pretty much all day working already, so spending my nights also protecting Flurry on top of that would probably mean I’d feel like I’m just not getting any rest.”

gob.smack();

“Your husband knows you really well.”

Moondog returned to Shining the next night to find him balancing one-hoofed and meditating on top of a ten-story pole made of taffy. Sitting on thin air next to the top of the pole, Moondog clapped his hooves together. “Hey. Mr. Amore. I’m back.”

Shining opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey! Nice to OH DEAR SWEET MOTHER GOOSE THIS IS HIGH.” He clamped his eyes shut again, wrapped his legs around his body, and rocked back and forth.

“Just put a hoof down, you’ll be fine,” groaned Moondog. “I’m not gonna let you fall.” Seriously, what was it with ponies and falling? A large chunk of bad dreams revolved around falling in some way, and in many, many variations. Mom had once said that in a nightmare, you’re falling, but in a dream, you’re flying. After a while, it got a little tiring.

After a moment, still keeping his eyes shut, Shining carefully reached out and put a hoof on nothing. It held. Another. He opened his eyes, twitched, and stepped off the pole completely. “Um.” He blinked. “Ooooookay then.” He jumped up and down on nothing.

ground.raise(100);

Moondog rolled his eyes, reached down, and pulled the ground up until they were standing on it. “There. Happy?”

“I’m… gonna go with ‘yes’. So did you talk with Twilight? Can she make the amulet?” Shining was definitely Twilight’s brother. You could tell from the dorky glee in his eyes and the way he was almost bouncing on his hooves in spite of looking like he could bench-press two carriages at once.

Moondog nodded. “Yeah. But she says she’ll have to invent new branches of magical theory just to begin the first prototype, so the finished version won’t be in the mail until Saturday. I’ve given her all the help I can.” He looked at a certain area of his leg where the stars were clustered a little more closely together than usual. “Including a blood sample she said she needed. Considering I don’t have blood and she took some anyway, I’m not sure whether to be confused, squicked, or impressed.”

“I just go with every available option. It usually works for her.”

“Confusquipressed. Sounds about right.” Moondog flared his wings and a dias formed beneath him. Armor coalesced from the air and fitted itself onto him. “But until then, we can get started on dream magic itself for a few minutes every night. Nocnice aren’t going to roll over because you asked nicely, as nice as that would be.”

Out of habit, Shining snapped to attention, his hooves together, his spine straight, his eyes forward. “Yessir!”

“Sheesh, we’re not going that far. Like, at ease or whatever.” Old habits died hard, so if you couldn’t avoid them, you might as well exploit them. Moondog jumped from the dias and his armor turned to mist. “Now, your dream is basically an extension of your mind, your self, so in order to sculpt one, you must first learn to sculpt yourself.”

self.setAppearance(sombra);

Ashen gray smothered the stars in Moondog’s coat and darkness overtook the night in his mane. Fangs jutted from his upper jaw and crimson swam across his eyes. His voice a deep rumble, he continued, “Like thi-”

Something smashed in Moondog’s face and he cartwheeled across the dias so gymnastically he would’ve earned at least an 8 from the judges. He landed on his back, straddled by a semi-matronly mare with a white coat and Twilight’s hairstyle.

“Hello,” said the pony, her grin predatory. “What do you think you’re doing to my son?”

“Sorry, sorry!” yelped Shining, his hooves at his mouth. “That was just a reflex! I don’t even know where I got her from!”

twilightVelvet = null;self.setDisbelief(12);

Moondog stood up as the pony dispersed into fog. “Throwing your mom at Sombra is reflexive?”

“Well, um…” Shining clopped his front hooves together and looked away. “It’s more family members in general, really… Yes, that includes Flurry…”

“I don’t know what’s weirder. That being a reflex, or that reflex working.” Pause. “You, uh, wanna hit me or anything? Just so you can. For yourself, you know. You can’t hurt me or anything, it’s just for-”

“Oh, uh, no, no, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Alright.” Moondog popped off his head, turned it inside-out to reveal his usual coloration, and put it back on. As he reversed the rest of his body, he continued, “So, funny thing: pulling your mom from thin air is one of the first steps to learning dream magic. Yes, really, stop looking at me like that. Since dreams are so strongly influenced by your own mind, if you just decide that something’s there-” He ripped away nothing to reveal a wooden chest. “-it’s there. You were able to do that because your reflexes decided, hey, time to chuck Mom at the despot. The fact that she wasn’t actually there is irrelevant.”

“So… if I…” Shining looked to one side and made swiping motions at the air. Nothing happened.

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not quite that easy,” said Moondog. “Dream magic’s like breathing: the second you stop and think about it, it becomes an effort instead of an unconscious action. You can’t go, ‘I’m going to use dream magic to make Mom appear.’ You have to go, ‘Mom’s there’, and dream magic will make it so. Here-”

dreamer.setWings(TRUE);

Moondog pulled a pair of wings from nowhere and stuck them on Shining. “You have wings now. Remember that you don’t have wings and you’ll get rid of them.”

Shining flared his wings. “Uh…” A few experimental flaps, and he was hovering a foot above the ground. “Do I have to?”

“Giving yourself the wings back is part two.”

“Good. Uh…” After a second, Shining’s wings vanished in a cloud of feathers and he dropped back down. “Uh-huh…” Another second, and his wings were back. He stretched them, a huge grin on his face. “Ha ha! Nice!”

“Nice indeed. You’re picking this up fast.” Moondog stroked his chin. What next, what next… “You’d look better with a beard. How about a beard? Give yourself a beard.”

For some reason, though, Shining looked unsure of that. “I don’t know… Beards aren’t really-”

“Dude. It’s just a beard.” Moondog reached up with his own beard and tweaked Shining’s nose. “Try it.”

Shining batted Moondog’s beard away. “Fine.” Along his chin, no more than an inch long, sprouted a beard the same color as his mane. “There. Happy?”

“That’s your idea of- Oh, come on! Live a little! Give yourself a beard like mine.” Moondog held out his long, luxurious, beautiful beard. “It’s way better than that wisp you’ve got now.”

“Eh…” Shining seized Moondog’s beard in his magic and yanked down, hard. Moondog’s legs collapsed and he faceplanted into the ground. “Not really, no.”

“Point taken,” Moondog said through a mouthful of dirt. “You can lose the beard.” He pulled himself up and continued, “You’re doing well so far, but I want to check a few more things…”

Shining took a nervous step off the balcony into thin air. “So, um,” he said, “Twilight’s charm came in the mail today-” Another step. “-but I didn’t put it on yet. I wanted to get your opinion first.”

Moondog shrugged. “Well, we can test it out tonight. No sense in waiting to see if it works right.”

“But I’m not wearing it, and Twilight said I need to be wearing it to-”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Moondog said, waving a hoof. “Just put it on before you go back to sleep.”

“Huh?”

hammer(dreamer);

When Shining’s dream reformed a few brainstorms later, he was wearing an unassuming brass amulet inscribed with a glowing spiral. His ears back, he said to Moondog, “Please don’t do that again.”

“Sorry, that’s the best way I know to wake somepony up, so no promises. Now, let’s take a look at that…” Moondog held the amulet up to his eyes. It hummed with power (specifically, it hummed the Equestrian national anthem) and imprints of mana channels twisted around each other in the correct ways. “So far, so good. Did Twilight tell you how to work it?”

“Um. Kinda.” Shining took a few steps back and raised his hooves. “I should just…” He vaguely waved his legs around.

Moondog hiccuped as the dream twisted and the wall next to Shining distorted, melted, twirled into a purple vortex. No bad sounds, no nightmarish flashes, just a perfectly ordinary fractaldimensional portal. Moondog probed it with his magic; as stable an intra-dream passage as one could hope for. “Huh,” he said. “Interesting.”

“That’s a good ‘huh, interesting’, right?” asked Shining. He delicately moved his hoof into the vortex. “This kinda looks…”

“Yeah, good ‘huh’. This thing takes a few shortcuts I never would’ve considered — yes, safe shortcuts, your own sister made this! Like, rather than trying to get through the collective unconscious, it uses your own love for Flurry to go directly to her.”

“Which would probably mean something if I knew more about dream magic.” Shining took a deep breath. “Okay. Strange spooky dream portal thing. Here we go.” He raised one hoof, then put it back on the ground. Another. And another. And another. He trotted in place, breathing like he was a steam engine sucking in air. He pawed at the ground. Finally, Moondog picked him up and tossed him on through the portal.

self.setLocation("adwl://dreamer.uncn/surface?hexID=466c75727279204865617274&lucid=n");

Rather than following the portal, Moondog blipped into the collective consciousness and then into Flurry’s dream, just to check. Distance not mattering in the dream realm, Shining was still getting to his hooves from being thrown and failing to stick the landing. “Please don’t do that,” muttered Shining.

“Sorry. Duke’s right.”

“You know I rank higher in the peerage than a duke, right?”

“Do know. Don’t care.”

In spite of this definitely being Flurry’s dream, the environment around them was, of all things, a nightclub. Impressions of ponies, more shadow than anything else, jumped around in things that were probably supposed to be dances. Lights in soft pastels flashed off of disco technically-balls and around the room. A drum and bass remix of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star pounded through the speakers. And on a platform above the crowd, wearing a spectacular pair of sunglasses, sitting on a pair of turntables, was DJ Flurry Heart.

“So. Um. What sorts of places do you take Flurry?” Moondog asked as he gawked.

“Not this!” Shining protested as he gawked. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because she’s a baby. She could only dream about something like this if she’s experienced it. Why do you think the crowd’s so shapeless? She’s still not the best at differentiating ponies.”

“But I’ve never taken her anywhere like this, and I know Cadance wouldn’t, either! The only way Flurry would ever go to a nightclub is if- if… Oh.” Shining’s voice came to a halt and he stared up at Flurry’s turntable. All expression slid from his face like rain sliding down a window and his ears slowly went back.

“You alright?” Moondog asked. Ponies could have the weirdest mood swings. Or maybe that was just the Sparkles.

“I’m going to have a few words with Sunburst when I wake up,” Shining said flatly.

Even with lessons on nocnice sprinkled in, Shining Armor progressed a little faster in learning dream magic than Meadow had, except for when it came to making things in the dream, where he went a lot faster thanks to his teacher actually knowing what he was talking about. However, Moondog had never told Meadow how to vanquish nightmares, so it was impossible to say how that would go. Considering Shining’s past experience with smiting evil monsters, though, Moondog wasn’t concerned. Too much.

“Alright,” Moondog said as he climbed from the cocoon, “I think you’re ready to try actually fighting nocnice. So: what have we learned?”

“Nocnice feed on a dreamer’s fears to strengthen themselves, usually by twisting the dream,” recited Shining. He pulled a thick thread of spider silk from his mane. “Control of a dream is often limited when they invade. And since they feed on negative emotions, positive ones can drive them away.”

“Perfect. Normally, I’d go on a long spiel about the dreamer’s self-actualization and confronting their own fears, but I don’t think Flurry’s ready to self-actualize quite yet.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Our family’s pretty weird.”

“Either way, we can’t just sit around and wait for a nightmare to come to Flurry, so I’m going to take you for a trot-along.” Moondog ripped open a hole in a nearby tapestry to the collective unconscious. “First nocnica we find, you do your thing, whatever that may be. I’ll just provide moral support and a safety net.”

“Alright…” Shining stuck his head through the hole and stared out at the vast web of dreams. “And how long’ll it be before we find one?”

“No clue.” Moondog dropped a small psychic shield on Shining, just enough to keep his mind coherent when outside his body, and jumped through the hole. “Just follow me and I’ll let you know.”

Shining climbed through and stared at the starfield around them, jaw agape. What was it with ponies and seeing the dream realm? Did they ever think about how Mom jumped between their minds so freely? Probably not. “This is incredible,” he whispered. “It’s… I know Luna protects ponies’ dreams all across Equestria, but… seeing just how many ponies there are, it’s… And it’s just you two alone?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Moondog put a hoof on a door.

getMood(door);return: MOOD.Happy

“And before you ask, no, I don’t get lonely.” Next door. “That’s one of the few biological moods I didn’t inherit.”

return: MOOD.Mellow

“I’ve got myself and Mom and my work, and that’s enough.”

“Yeah, Twily’s like that sometimes. Princess Luna, though…”

“Not really my thing to talk about. Kinda personal.” Moondog didn’t add that he suspected that Mom got lonely sometimes and having someone to talk to who didn’t trip over their hooves in awe was nice.

“Right,” muttered Shining. He trotted up to one of the doors and examined it. “But… if it’s just you two for all of Equestria… Haven’t you thought about training other ponies in dream magic? Just to make things a little easier on yourselves?”

“I’m fine. As for Mom, though…” Moondog projected his whispered voice right into Shining’s ear. “I think it’s a little bit of habit, a little bit of pride. Equestria was a lot smaller a thousand years ago, when she could handle things a lot better, and she doesn’t really want to admit she can’t do it alone. But me helping her is okay, because she made me, so I’m still technically part of her work.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Shining trotted to the next door. “And it’s a bit late for her to make a whole new government department that answers to her if she’s going to abdicate before the year is up. …Maybe you could do it.”

“Oh, sweet Aunt Celly.” Moondog put a hoof to his mouth and snickered. “Can you imagine me making laws?”

Shining stared. “You are going to be one of the diarchs, aren’t you?”

wellBooger();

“Let’sfindabaddreamokaygreat,” said Moondog. He blitzed between doors and, thank Mom and Aunt Celly, a nocnica-infested dream presented itself almost immediately. Moondog yanked Shining into the dream like they were about to be run over by a train.

dreamer.getName();return: "Thermal Updraft"

Thermal Updraft was caught in a frigid hurricane, beating his wings with all his might as he single-hoofedly tried to stop it before it hit land. Seas churned below him, storms raged above him, sleet battered him from all sides, and icy winds tore at his coat. Above the maelstrom hovered the nocnica responsible for it all, a hazy image of a colossal pony with lightning for eyes, hail for teeth. In every gust of the gale, one could hear deep laughter rumble.

Once Shining adjusted to using the wind as a platform, he turned his attention to the nocnica. “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said those things aren’t subtle.”

“You have no idea. Hey! Storm dude!” Moondog waved. “It’s your friendly neighborhood dream warrior, now with a friendly neighborhood dream squire, absolutely free!”

“Um. Hi?” Shining jerked his hoof up in almost the direction of the nocnica. “Look, Moondog, this is really inefficient, can’t we just skip straight to beating its face in?”

“Sorry, but no. You might not catch them by surprise, so they’d have a chance to defend themselves. And, like I’ve said before, mental monsters are fought with mental weapons. Facepunching ain’t exactly mental.”

attract(badDude);

“OI! Peabrain!” Moondog ripped a bolt of lightning from its usual course and hurled it at the nocnica. “Get over here! I need to give you a butt so my student can kick it!”

As a plume of ball lightning shredded a cumulonimbus, the storm turned its attention on the two of them, a force of nature deciding two insects were worthy of its notice. At least, that was the impression the nocnica tried to give. Moondog just stared up at it and tried not to be bored. Really, storms were easy. Just strengthen the weather wrangler a bit until they could handle it on their own. Throw in some friends if they couldn’t.

Moondog glanced at Shining. He looked like he was reconsidering his life choices, but not all that heavily. He definitely wouldn’t run or cave, but he might choke. Well, “choke” was a bit strong; cough, maybe, and just once.

“Infant of the night!” yelled the nocnica in a voice like thunder. “Am I supposed to be cowed simply because you were too wretched to face me alone? I was enriching myself on your subjects’ fears before your mother was born! I am every-”

“Shut up, loser,” snapped Moondog. “Nobody likes you.” He snorted, leaned closer to Shining, and muttered, “And they’re all like this, believe it or not. Total hams.”

Shining cringed. “Oh, Celestia. Those guys are the worst.”

“I know, right? But I’ve found-”

“I am the bane of rest, the reaper of fear! My lashes are still felt upon awakening! I am-”

“Shut up, loser! I’m teaching over here! Anyway, their egos-”

“-are like ice cubes, right? One good burn and fwhit! They’re gone.”

“Pretty much, yeah. They get strength from fear, so if you’re not afraid of them-”

“DOMINION OVER PONIES’ HEARTS AND MINDS IS MINE! WHEREVER I GO, DESPAIR FOLLOWS! YOU CANNOT HOPE TO-”

“-but reassuring the dreamer in some way usually works better. You’ll just be working with Flurry, though, so don’t worry about technique. Unless, y’know, you wanna.”

“Okay. Right.” Shining looked up at the nocnica and set his jaw. “And you’ll…?”

“Just be your safety net.” Moondog took a few steps back, shifting into invisibility. “Go ahead. Knock-”

The nocnica roared in impotent anger and chains of lightning gathered along its cloudy wings. With the strength of the storm behind it, it swept its wings downward, hurling every bolt it could muster at the pair and smothering them in electricity. Moondog didn’t even bother with a defense and merely let the storm wash over him. As for Shining, he wouldn’t be physically hurt and everypony needed to fail at least once to deal with failure.

Tonight wasn’t Shining’s night to fail, though. The lightning lanced out and curled around Shining’s form like water running around a boulder. The nocnica poured all it could spare on the attack, hoping to brute-force out a newbie, and yet Shining never wavered.

When the electric gale finally puttered out, Shining was standing within a magenta orb, watching the nocnica with a nonchalant focus, not a hair out of place. He’d conjured a set of purple armor for himself and was leaning on a gleaming spear. “I’m really good at shields, you know,” he said in the same tone of voice one might use to mention they caught a frog. He brushed a droplet of cloud condensate from his armor. “I once kept one up over all of Canterlot for a week. By myself. Or did you think I became Captain of the Guard by collecting bottle caps?” He twirled his spear and grinned rakishly at the nocnica. “That terrible excuse for a lightning barrage was one of the saddest things I’ve seen in my life, and I saw Twilight after she got a B-plus.”

approve(partner.getMethod());

“Veddy nice,” Moondog whispered. Between effortlessly shrugging off the nocnica’s main attack and delivering a solid insult, Shining was already putting a good foot forward and rattling the composure of a creature that depended entirely on its composure. Of course, he’d only passed the easy part. Now, things would get a bit more psychological. Some attacks on Shining’s skill, attempts to break his morale…

The nocnica faltered, and the wind with it. Thermal Updraft (oh, yeah, he was still around) pushed a bit harder and the hurricane slowed. Shining and the nocnica stared at each other, the storm whipping around them. Then thunder rumbled as the nocnica chuckled. “Oh, you insignificant little morsel. Do you really think that one simple spell will be enough to stop me?”

“Dunno.” Shining shrugged. “It’s working so far.”

“The world is humoring you,” the nocnica said. “You were great, once. Captain of all of Equestria’s Royal Guard. Now, everyone around you outclasses you.” It thrust its head forward; Shining took a step back in surprise. “Your wife is an alicorn with her own dominion,” the nocnica continued, pressing against the shield. “Your baby sister shall inherit a nation. Even your own infant child is mightier in magic than you while her caretaker has forgotten more about magic than you will ever learn.”

Shining didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable. At least he wasn’t biting his lip. Moondog cataloged all the problems with the nocnica’s taunt and flexed his wings in case he needed to jump in.

Black clouds flitted around the shield. “And look at us now,” the storm whispered. “Your teacher was designed to attack my kind. And yet you, a rank amateur, are the one here, facing me. Look around. Your teacher is nowhere to be found. You were played like a fiddle and thrown to the wolves by that coward. You will fail. You will collapse. I shall feast upon the corpse of both your spirit and this dreamer’s. And there will be nothing you can do about it.”

Still Shining stayed motionless. Moondog let him be. He needed to fight his own battles and he knew Moondog hadn’t run. The nocnica wasn’t getting to him.

Wasn’t it?

The nocnica drew itself back up into a towering, dark cumulonimbus, lightning flickering from its eyes. “But you can save yourself the trouble. If you run, I will not follow. If, after you run, we meet again, the gravest of tortures shall be a mercy. So run. Hide. And do not dare to show your face near me again. What say you, Prince-Captain?” Venomous contempt flowed from every word the nocnica said.

“Speartotheface!” yelled Shining, hurling the spear right into the nocnica’s head.

self.setFacehoofLevel(9);

“That won’t work!” Moondog yelled, dropping his invisibility in frustration. “You ne-”

The nocnica exploded. Ill intent splattered across the storm, wine staining a white robe. Moondog could feel the nocnica’s control slip like tremors before an earthquake. The small, pathetic thing that remained perhaps wasn’t as weak as when Moondog or Mom vanquished it, but it was still far weaker than a mere spear should have made it. It screamed and fled the dream in a second.

“That’s what I say!” roared Shining. “Ha!”

Moondog blinked. “…Huh.” He wiped some bad vibes off his face with a wing. The way the nocnica’s remains were getting absorbed by the dream made it a little more depressing — clouds graying, air getting colder, all that jazz — but the force of the storm dwindled to nearly nothing and now that the nocnica itself was gone, removing that and making the dream a happy one again with a little bit of sunshine in the right places was downright trivial. It wasn’t an efficient method of dispelling a nocnica, but it worked, and that was what mattered. “How did… you…” Moondog pulled a hoof down his face. “Okay, no offense, but that shouldn’t’ve been possible. A nocnica is a creature of thought and will. Stabbing it should’ve been less effective than thinking angrily at a dragon.”

“If Twily can do the impossible, why can’t I? Anyway, you said you drove them away with positive emotions, right?” asked Shining. He held out his hoof and the spear returned. “Well…” He held the spear up to catch the light. In its reflection, Moondog saw many things: Twilight showing him her cutie mark, his letter of acceptance into the Royal Guard, Cadance hugging him once he finally worked up the nerve to propose, Twilight showing him her new wings, Cadance telling him that she was expecting, and so much more, layered on top of each other like folded metal. It wasn’t just a dream representation of a spear; it was pure will and memory forged and shaped into a weapon.

Moondog touched the spear and, even though it was physically impossible, got goosebumps. The psychic energy that made it up wasn’t nearly as potent as anything Mom could make, but it was still very impressive, especially for a rookie like Shining. It was positive, confident, and well-organized, everything nocnice hated. A nocnica taking this to the face was roughly the same as a pony taking half a shot of pure arsenic: not enough to kill, but enough to make them very, very miserable.

“Very nice,” said Moondog. He absently twirled the spear; even the balance was good. “It might not be quite as effective in the future — I think you caught this one by surprise — but it’s a great starting point.” And for nocnice going against babies, it might even be more effective. Babies were easy sources of nightmares, but they were also very simplistic and lacked flavor. Generally, nocnice that preyed on babies were too weak to get anything better and any stern defense, no matter how weak, would send them running for the hills’ dreams.

“I thought it might be. Positivity is positivity, right?”

“Close enough.” Moondog passed the spear back to Shining. “That nocnica didn’t get to you, did it? You’re not just trying to put on a brave face for me?”

But Shining rolled his eyes. “Pfft. If he was trying to hit me with an inferiority complex over being married to an alicorn, he’s over a decade too late. I’ve already had it once I started dating Cadance, gotten over it, relapsed, gotten over it again, had some imposter syndrome after getting promoted to Captain because I was paranoid about cronyism, gotten over that, and never worried about not being the best of the best again. All before Twilight even went to Ponyville.”

“Neat.”

So. Nocnica dispelled in just a couple of minutes with an easily-replicable method. It was just one time, but it was a very effective one time (quicker than Moondog’s first time, he was loath to admit), and it wasn’t like Flurry was going to be dogpiled by nocnica every night. Part of Moondog wanted to just let Shining loose upon unsuspecting nocnica, but more tests wouldn’t be remiss, just in case. “Do you think you’re up for doing it again?”

Not only did Shining manage to bang his spear dramatically on the lack of ground, it made an impressive clang as it did so. “Definitely. I could do this all night!”

“I’m tired,” gasped Shining. “I’m asleep and I’m dreaming and I’m tired. How does that work?” He staggered out of the eighth nocnica-infested dream of the night and keeled forward.

dream.add(bed);

As Shining faceplanted on an overstuffed mattress, Moondog shrugged. “You’re probably just new to this and being tired is the only way your mind knows how to process it.”

“I’m going to wake up,” Shining said to the mattress, “and I’m going to feel worse than when I went to bed.”

“Nah. You’ll be fine, especially since we’re not doing any more tests tonight. I think you’re ready.”

Shining rolled onto his back. “You think so? But-”

“Hey.” Moondog levitated Shining up by his tail. “That one nightmare where I had to step in was nothing to worry about. You’re not gonna be handling a country’s worth of nocnice, just one filly. Heck, seeing her dad there might cheer Flurry up enough to naturally repel nocnice.”

“Really?” Shining pulled his tail from Moondog’s grasp and reoriented himself.

“Oh, sure. Happens all the time. Look, you start handling Flurry on your own and I’ll check in every night for… how about a week? And if you think you can’t handle it, let me know and we’ll figure out where to go from there. Sound good?”

Shining mulled it over for a few moments, then nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” Moondog lightly clapped Shining on the shoulder. “Get some rest and not just sleep. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks.” Shining saluted and vanished as he returned to his dream.

Yeah, Shining could handle defending one filly, easy. He was handling nocnice like a champ-to-be, one misstep notwithstanding (and it’d been a cleverer nocnica, to boot). Sure, his technique boiled down to “stick ’em in the face with the happy-pointy end”, but it worked. Did it? It was probably best to ask Mom if positive-emotion weapons could be used against nocnice.

“Well, yes, it is certainly possible,” said Mom, “but it is rather crude, simplistic, and woefully inefficient. I never taught it to you for several reasons. In addition to calling up the positive memories, one must continuously maintain their form for them to have an effect greater than a feather launched from a trebuchet.” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “A blow to your opponent’s face can be just as cathartic as it is simplistic, admittedly, and one must never undervalue catharsis in dreams…”

“But it’s… okay for him to use it, right?” asked Moondog. “He’s not gonna, I don’t know, destroy his spirit with it or anything?” Mom had never said anything about something like that when teaching Moondog, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

“While it will be adequate in protecting young Flurry,” said Mom, “it is ultimately a crutch and prolonged use may induce burnout. If Prince Armor ever wishes to expand his borders, he should not rely on it.”

“‘Expand his borders’?” Moondog snorted. “You really think he’d want to do that?”

Mom’s face was blank. “You don’t know him very well, do you?”

One week later, Moondog blipped into Flurry’s dream to check up on Shining. He was still decked out in his armor as he lounged on the floating pool chair, although he’d added some sparkles to make it look a little more night-y. On the other side of the pool, Flurry was playing with a jello dragon and utterly content. No problems here. Not right now, anyway.

Moondog flapped over to Shining. “So. You still doing alright?”

“Absolutely,” said Shining. “Just drove off a notchneetcha-”

“Nocnica.”

“-a few minutes ago with no problems. Flurry’s dreams have been pretty safe, otherwise, and I haven’t felt tired since last week — dream realm or physical realm. Maybe I won’t check in every night.” Shining nudged his sunglasses down to look Moondog in the eye. “No, I’m not stressing out and looking for an excuse to not do it.”

Moondog nodded. “Right. I’ll leave you to it, then, an-”

“What’ll you do when Luna retires?”

--Error; InterruptedThoughtException e

Moondog stopped flapping in surprise. He didn’t fall, though. “Huh?”

Shining pushed himself into more of a sitting-up-straight position. “When Luna abdicates, your workload’s going to double, right? So, what, are you going to just shoulder it?”

“Dunno.” Moondog shrugged. “Maybe.” He hadn’t given the slightest thought to it. Mom was (supposed to be) a constant and better at this than he was. What would he do?

“Because if you need any help,” Shining said, “I could join a… dreamguard or whatever. I’ve already got the gear.” He waved his spear around. “And some of the training.”

Moondog played with his beard. It wasn’t a bad idea, really, even if it was just a stopgap until he honed his skills a bit more and/or figured out how to duplicate himself. And Shining not only had the oneiromantic skills to work, but also the leadership skills to be a second-in-command. Whether or not he’d get overstressed managing the dream realm at night and the Crystal Empire at day was another matter, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. “No guarantees, but I’ll think about it.”

“Cool. Call me when you need me. Or if you know you won’t.” Shining pushed his glasses back up and lay down again. “You should probably see if anypony else wants to help too, though. There’s no way I could replace Princess Luna by myself.”

“Hey! Templepop Shadowtwist, was it? You wanna beat up nightmares?”

“Never call me that ever again and there may be a chance that I might possibly consider it. Also, who the heck are you? Also also, what?”

Author's Notes:

Temporary cover art for this chapter:

Deployment Environments: Sandbox

Sunset ran. She couldn’t see the wolves nipping at her heels, but she could hear them.

Branches battered at her face, gouged at her skin, tore at her clothes as she stumbled through the night-darkened forest. No matter which path she chose, it always seemed to be the hardest. Behind her, bear-sized wolves smashed through the forest like it was nothing, their pants as loud as a steam engine and their paws battering against the ground in a continuous avalanche. She’d already seen them, with their sanguine eyes and their stained teeth; she didn’t need to see them again.

Above it all, a singsong voice rang out. “Keep running, little one! Run, lest they catch you!”

She couldn’t spare a moment. Sunset ran.

The forest cleared and the ground leveled out. Before she could question this, she’d put on a spurt of speed and was sprinting across the clearing like her life depended on it. Then the ground beneath her softened, slipped apart, liquefied, and she was forcing her way knee-deep through rancid mud. Waist-deep. Chest-deep. There was nothing beneath her feet.

From the darkness coalesced a pallid man with pale hair in a black robe. He strode across the surface of the mud as if it were solid rock. In one hand, he held a staff, serpents twined around its head. At the end were a pair of outstretched wings, a glowing sapphire set between them. He crouched next to Sunset, now shoulder-deep, and tsked. “Oh, you really should watch where you’re going,” he said. He smiled condescendingly and chuckled. “Better luck tomorrow night!”

Panting as deeply as she could with the mud pressing in on her, Sunset grabbed blindly for something, anything, and found nothing. She was up to her chin. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed. “What did we ever do to you?”

The man just smiled again. “Oh. Wouldn’t you like to know.” He tapped his chin in thought. “…Nah. You have a good night, now.”

He walked away, laughing, and the mud closed over Sunset’s head before she could scream.

Sunset jerked into wakefulness panting, her shirt sticky from cold sweat. She dragged her hand down her face and groaned from weariness. Just a dream. Except no one as deep in magic as she was ever brushed anything off as “just a dream”. Especially not since it’d been happening for almost a week. And not just to her, but her friends as well.

She sat up and fumbled for her phone. She winced at the glare, but was just able to make out the time if she squinted. 2:21 AM. Superb, and with school tomorrow, too. She could already imagine slouching through class, half-awake. She could try falling asleep again, but that man would be back. He always was.

What did he even want? In the week he’d been antagonizing Sunset and her friends, he’d never made any demands, never declared any plans or schemes, never even doing anything outside of dreams. He was either a devious, manipulative mastermind playing his cards close to his chest or a phenomenally petty scumbag doing this for kicks. Probably the latter. Masterminds wouldn’t be that blatant about their existence.

Sunset put her phone screen-down and stared into the dark at where the ceiling would be, her night vision in tatters. After all she’d been through, all the ways she’d grown, being a bully for the sake of being a bully seemed… a personal insult, the sort of directed, psychological attack meant specifically for her. Except none of the dreams had been more aimed than bullying. She was scared of drowning, true, but most people were. All of the nightmares he’d inflicted on her were things anyone would be scared of. He hadn’t even said her name, not once.

Did he even know who she was besides his victim?

As darkness became less so and the ceiling slowly came into focus, Sunset realized her hands were balled into fists, but she didn’t uncurl them. That guy, whoever he was, was a coward. He never put himself in danger and only attacked in ways where his victims couldn’t retaliate. She needed some help. Magic ponies were neither magic nor ponies on this side of the portal, but maybe Twilight could find a way to let Princess Luna slip some magic through. All these Equestrian relics were coming through somehow, weren’t they?

Flipping on a lamp and groaning as its light assailed her dark-adjusted eyes, she staggered over to a shelf and grabbed Twilight’s journal. She could barely see the page as she wrote, but she could still see it and she could write.

Twilight,

I know this is going to sound weird, but is there any chance Princess Luna could come over? Something’s screwing with our dreams over here, and I’m pretty sure it’s magic-related. And this isn’t just ‘our dreams are weirder than usual’. We all have a man with a winged staff entering our dreams and turning them into nightmares. He’s buried me alive, sicced rabid wolves on me, and drowned me in the ocean. I wake up in terror several times every night and I can’t shake this creeping feeling that something’s out to get me. I can’t get enough sleep and I want to cut this off before it gets any worse. I know Luna probably won’t have any magic here, but she’s the only person I know of who has dreams in her league. She’s literally the only hope I have right now.

Sunset

She closed the book and put it on her nightstand. With nothing better to do, she grabbed her phone again and commenced a random Wikipedia binge. Sleep beckoned, but she ignored it, and not just because she knew what was coming. She was going to sit up and wait until Twilight answered, no matter how long it took.

…How did she end up on the page about jumping spiders already?

In spite of it being the middle of the night, it barely took Twilight any time to write back. Thank goodness for the night-owlty of nerds everywhere and everywhen.

Sunset,

Funny you should mention that! Over a year ago (has it really already been over a year? Wow), Luna created an oneiric golem to help with her dream work. I know! An oneiric golem! Can you imagine? And not only did it work, it developed full self-awareness! See-

(Four pages of gleeful writing later…)

-perpetuating her own existence ad infinitum! So I

So this ‘Moondog’ can help us?

Yes.

Probably.

Maybe. Dreams are so intrinsic to her existence that I don’t know what’ll happen to her once she goes through the portal, so we should

Will she even want to come?

YES. Trust me, she loves helping people — not just ponies! Once she hears about this, she’ll want to do everything she can to help.

Thank Celestia. Thank Luna.

But as I was saying, I don’t know what’ll happen to her once she goes through the portal, so you should be ready on your side to help in case she needs it. (I’ll be there too, of course.) I’ll need some time to research that staff and talk to Moondog about it, so I won’t be able to get back to you until tomorrow night, unfortunately. What time works best for you?

Tomorrow night’s fine. I can be there at…

It was just after sunset (fnah fnah) and Sunset was pacing in front of the mirror portal. The school grounds were deserted, but she wouldn’t have cared if they weren’t. She’d been waiting all day for this, fumbling her way through a school day while practically half-dead, and Tartarus take her if she was going to let a few strange looks get in the way of a good night’s sleep.

She glanced at her watch again. 8:57. It felt like it’d been 8:57 for an hour. Twilight had said she’d be there at 9. Glancing at her watch wouldn’t make time advance any faster, and still Sunset glanced. She didn’t have much else to do. “You better pull through, Twilight,” she muttered.

Not sooner had those words left her mouth than she got goosebumps and the surface of the mirror began rippling. In moments, Equestria’s Twilight stepped on through. “Sunset!” she said cheerfully. “I’d say it’s great to see you again, but it probably isn’t for you, right?”

“Not really,” grunted Sunset. She waited for someone else to step through the portal, but no one did. “Moondog’s coming, right?”

“Of course,” said Twilight, “she’s right-” She glanced to her side, then did a double-take when she didn’t see anyone. “Um. Hang on a sec.” She grinned nervously and stepped back through the portal. Before Sunset could ask what was up, she was back. “Okay, uh, Moondog did come through, but-” She dropped to her hands and knees and began picking at the grass. “Did she leave footprints?” she muttered.

Sunset coughed. “Uh, Twi…”

“Moondog came out of dreams to come through the portal,,” Twilight said, her voice strained, “but I think something went wrong on this side. Look for any sign of her, please!”

Well, this was a great start. Sunset flicked on her phone’s flashlight; immediately, she spotted something glinting in the grass, easily missable in the darkness. It was a… a smartwatch? Unfamiliar with the design, she picked it up. Even as she watched, words flashed up on the screen: Hello? Is anyone there? She turned it over. A circular crystalline sensor dominated the backside, inscribed with Princess Luna’s cutie mark. Around the sensor was printed, Tantabus Mk. II, Patent Pending Princess Luna Vigilanti.

An out-there thought ran through Sunset’s head: Moondog had been made by Luna, so maybe- The watch had a headphone jack. Praying she didn’t need to fiddle with any settings, Sunset ripped her earbuds from her phone and plugged them in. The second she stuffed one of them into her ear, she heard a faux-synthesized voice: “-on’t know if they can he-”

“Hello?” said Sunset. “Who’s there? I can hear you now.”

“-ar me, s- Okay, um, that answers that question. Um. It’s Moondog.”

“Twi!” Sunset yelled. “I found her! Ish!” To Moondog, she said, “I can hear you loud and clear. This is Sunset.” She held out the spare earbud to Twilight, who put it in.

“Okay, good. Whoof, I don’t know WHAT the heck happened to me. My senses are all funky, and not in the fun way. I can’t even see, technically.”

“You’re, uh, basically a watch,” Sunset said. She cringed at how inconsiderate that sounded, but she was tired and her brain was still catching up with her mouth.

But Moondog didn’t seem bothered. “Huh. Weird.” She sounded more like someone had just suggested an interesting drink combo rather than she’d been told her entire being had been trapped inside a machine. “Never tried that before. I’ll mark it down. Is this supposed to happen?”

“It’s complicated,” Twilight said. “The portal transforms anyone who passes through it because-” She glanced at Sunset. “We never did figure out why it transforms people, did we?”

“Something about… perceptions and underlying metaphysical archetypes?” Sunset shrugged. “This world’s Twilight kept getting upset that it relied on things she couldn’t properly test, especially since you wouldn’t let her run a tristimulus colorimeter on each side of the portal for days on end.”

“Because reasons,” Twilight said to Moondog. “It can be a little, ah, disorienting the first time through. Why you’re a watch rather than a person, I don’t know. Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just confused. Right now, I’m… It’s… I’m not sure ponies have ever experienced anything like this.” Pause. “Yeah, I got nothing. Like I said, though, fine, and not in the ‘Freaked-out, Insecure, Nervous, Emotional’ sense. Gimme a sec, I gotta figure this place out a bit.”

Sunset stared at the watch. This was it. This was Twilight’s vaunted dream guardian. A watch. She’d gotten her hopes up, waited for something that would just let her sleep, and this was what she was rewarded with. How could she hope to-

“I recognize that look. She’s more than just a watch, you know,” said Twilight. Sunset looked up; Twilight was watching her closely, clearly sympathetic. “She’s good at dreams. Almost as good as Luna herself. If anyone can help you, it’s Moondog.”

“But what if…” Sunset put her hand over the watch, hoping to block whatever microphone there was. “What if this is it for her on this side of the mirror?” she whispered. “What if she can’t do anything else?”

“Then… I don’t know. But we’ll figure something out.” Twilight took Sunset’s hand in hers and squeezed. “We’ll fix this, Sunset. I know we will.”

Twilight’s tone was soft, yet something about it made it impossible to doubt. “…Thanks,” said Sunset. She squeezed back.

“Huh,” Moondog said abruptly. “I have a manual now.” Sunset had a vague impression of pages flipping. “Apparently, I’m running… Dreambian? From Lunax? Whatever any of that means. Um… Oh, Mom. The marketese and technobabble in this makes me want to barf. ‘Utilizes revolutionary neural net technology and proprietary orgone batteries to create a personalized, AI-driven interface via Odic forces to induce pleasant experiences during the REM state of sleep.’ Wlah. Just say ‘we made a magic automaton to give you good dreams’ and get it over with!”

“Well, all of that’s… technically right,” Twilight said. “Just dressed up in more science-y terms. This world doesn’t like magic, so I can see why-”

“Does it say you can enter my dreams?” Sunset asked, a hint of desperation tingeing her voice. “I really want this over with.”

“Let me see. Use, use use… Just wear the watch to bed.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all YOU need to do. I need to do some other stuff — hot dang is this a big flowchart — but don’t worry about it.”

Sunset wasn’t sure whether to be happy that she finally had some (possible) help or anxious that the help wouldn’t work because the multiverse was being too nice to her. Weariness made her split the difference: shrug and go, “Okay. Great.”

“I gave Moondog all the details on the staff,” said Twilight. “She’ll fill you in on it.” She rubbed one foot against the other. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any more help, but-”

“It’s alright,” Sunset said quickly. “I’m sure Moondog’ll help.” She sounded a bit more confident than she felt. Only a bit, though. “I’ll send you a message tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Sunset. Stay safe, both of you.”

Moondog snorted. “Twilight, I’m safer in dreams than you are.”

“You might not be over here. Be careful. Be seeing you.”

Once Twilight was gone back through the portal, Sunset fitted the watch on her wrist. Based on the screen, it didn’t look any different from a regular smart watch. Even taking magic into account, it was weird to think there was a person in there. “Just you and me, huh?”

“Just you and me,” confirmed Moondog. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Back home, maybe. But Sunset knew Moondog wouldn’t listen, so she let the matter drop. She looked at the streets and sighed. Time to head back home. All the way back home.

One good thing about walking home at night: the streets were very quiet. Sunset paid the crosswalk lights only the smallest bits of attention as she plodded home, barely stopping. She felt like if she stood still for too long, she’d fall asleep right then and there. At least until Moondog gave her something to focus her attention on.

“Twilight told you about me, right?” Moondog asked. “Or should I go through the introductory spiel?”

“Dream golem made by Princess Luna,” said Sunset tersely. Actually meeting Moondog had gotten her spirits up a bit, but the walk home was draining her energy and she wasn’t feeling very talkative.

“Pretty much, yeah. You know, I’m technically a machine there, I wonder if that’s why I’m a machine over here… Anyway, Twilight gave me the lowdown on the staff. Maybe I can make it look like a book and- Oh, here we go. Do you have a window somewhere? Like a watch face? You should see a book on it.”

Sunset squinted at the screen. She could see something that looked like a page from a book, but- “It’s too small for me to read.”

“But you CAN see it, right? Hmm. Okay, uh…” The document went to the next page. “Did the page turn?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. I think I’m getting the hang of this. Want me to just read it off for you?”

“Sure.” Sunset had a sudden vision that she was on one of those call-in radio shows, only a live podcast. Welcome to Mage Talk with Twilight and Shining Armor! Don’t cast like my brother! And don’t cast like my sister! Except since Moondog was describing something to her, Sunset was the one in charge of the podcast, except she was the one listening to it on a smart device and oh no she’d gone cross-eyed.

“Right. So. That staff’s an Equestrian artifact thought lost — like, y’know, most of the stuff you take a look at — and it’s called — get this — the Caduceus of the Unreal.”

Sunset missed a step. “The- The Caduceus? Why not call it just a staff?”

Moondog’s snort was unbelievably staticy through Sunset’s earbuds. “I know, right? Methinks somebody wanted to sound more impressive than they were and cracked open a thesaurus. Anyway, supposed to let the user make illusions. JUST illusions, but Twilight ran some numbers based on the facts she had and thinks it COULD be repurposed to influence dreams if used properly. Dream magic and illusion magic are pretty closely related. The Caduceus… Well, short version, rather than letting the user travel through the dream realm, its magic seeks out a dreamer in the real world to invade. I’m guessing you don’t want the specifics?”

“Maybe later. Not right now.” Sunset yawned tremendously. Under normal circumstances, she might actually want the specifics, but not when she was suffering from sleep deprivation.

“To be fair, I didn’t want the specifics, either. I just didn’t have an excuse. Luckily for us, the specifics mean it’s a lot less potent than proper dream magic, i.e., yours truly. For starters, the Caduceus can only be used to enter dreams within a one- or two-mile radius, which is, like, total weaksauce. Can you imagine a network being limited by DISTANCE?”

Sunset imagined being forced to carry around an Ethernet cable for her phone and shuddered. “Yeah. That’s weak.”

“Oh, and the user actually needs to be awake when they start using it. They go into kind of a trance. No real rest, not like sleep, and vulnerable to all kinds of psychic backlash from differing mental states. I mean, heck, if Twilight’s equations are correct, it actually TAKES TIME to go from one dreamer to another. More time if they’re farther apart.”

“That doesn’t sound like Princess Luna’s magic.”

“It’s not. It’s ugly, it’s sloppy, it’s really only dream magic in the most technical sense. To put it in comparison: I’m a high-speed first-class train with right-of-way on any track, that staff’s a broken one-person cart with a sputtering outboard motor. Remember, it wasn’t built to manipulate dream magic.”

“And you think you can counter it?”

“Oh, pfft. Don’t get me STARTED. Seriously, don’t. I’ll start channeling Twilight and go on for hours about how I could dismantle that thing’s nightmares while bound and gagged.”

“As long as you can enter dreams, right?” It came out a little more biting than Sunset intended, but she didn’t care.

“…Ehm. Yes. But I don’t see why I’d have this manual if I couldn’t.”

“Iunno.”

Sunset turned one last corner; she could make her house out in the distance if she squinted. She managed to pick up her pace a little, since every step got her slightly closer to testing Moondog and (hopefully) a decent night’s sleep. This was one of those days where she really, truly understood Twilight’s borderline obsession with staying uplight to run some tests! (lightning crash). If this worked-

“So, no offense or anything,” spoke up Moondog, “but are you being really chill about this or is it just me? Universe-hopping, dimension-enforced-shapeshifting… This isn’t that different from dreams for me, but for you…”

Sunset shrugged. “It’s not you. This is kind of just Friday for me. And a school-day Friday, at that. On vacation Fridays, we go ana along the worldline-” She jabbed her thumb in one direction. “-instead of kata.” The other. Or is THAT way ana and THAT way kata? “And I’m too tired to care, anyway.”

Tired. On a whim, Sunset checked the watch’s battery readout. 100%. She ran her fingers along the edges, and- Yes, it had a standard charging port. She could only imagine having to explain to Princess Luna that her “daughter” died because she wasn’t properly charged. (Or maybe charging Moondog up again would bring her back to life… No, don’t think about the continuity of magical robot existence right now.)

“Huh. Nice to have someone who isn’t freaking out about what I am. It was kinda fun seeing ponies get shocked over my golemosity the first few times, but now it’s getting dull.”

By the time she reached home and dragged herself up to her loft, Sunset was so overcome with anticipation and tiredness that she didn’t even bother changing besides kicking off her shoes. Collapsing straight onto her bed, she looked at the watch like it was a videophone. “Just fall asleep, right?” she asked.

“Just fall asleep,” confirmed Moondog. “Can’t do much with dreams if you don’t have any.”

At least something was simple. Sunset closed her eyes, and after a few half-baked thoughts of anxiety, she quietly drifted off to sleep.

“Wow. You were not kidding when you said you needed rest.”

Sunset felt… nice. Not great, but nice. Which was more than could be said for the past few days. She didn’t need to get up and she didn’t need to worry about anything. She could just lie here, on her sublimely comfy cloud, and let the world pass her b-

She patted the thing below her. Definitely a cloud. Now how did she know that without feeling a cloud before?

She opened her eyes and sat up. A night sky that didn’t look like any night sky she’d seen before was spread out above her, but everything at her level was as bright as day. A rocky mountaintop poked through the top layer of a sea of clouds that met the horizon in all directions. Sunset was lying on top of a cloud bed, as soft as… well, a cloud. In spite of the mist around her, she wasn’t getting wet.

Across from her on a floating rock sat a girl (probably), not much older or younger than Sunset herself, with her hair in a pixie cut. Her wardrobe was so huh? that Rarity would have a fit over every single thread involved: sandals, tube socks, cargo shorts, and one of those tuxedo T-shirts. She was also made of night, but that seemed irrelevant for some reason. She watched Sunset with a sort of casual concern, brightening up the second she saw Sunset up and… dream-awake.

“Hello!” said the figure, waving. “Moondog here.” She stood up and stretched in ways that made Sunset think of a contortionist. “Dreams feel normal to me, so I think you and I are in business. Just lemme…” She looked up and snapped her fingers; the stars twirled around them and parted as the sun raced to its azimuth. “Yeah, yeah, full control,” she said, grinning. “Keeping you safe is gonna be a piece of cake.” She snapped her fingers again and the stars returned.

In another dimension along another worldline, a certain draconequus sat bolt upright in bed, feeling violated on a fundamental level. “Did you feel that, Mr. Bear?” growled Discord to his most nearby friend. “Someone’s stealing my schtick.”

Mr. Bear, being a soulless sack of cloth and fluff that could neither move nor think of his own accord, nor react to stimuli, nor even do anything besides exist at the whims of a cold, cruel, uncaring universe and a capricious spirit of chaos that would’ve been as a god to him even without his powers, did not respond, for he could not, just as he could not be aware of his own pathetic existence.

Discord rolled his eyes. He rolled a natural 20. “I’m glad you’re so understanding.”

Moondog blinked. “Did you feel a chill just now? Because my spine feels cold and I don’t even have a spine.”

“It’s because you tempted fate,” Sunset said. “Obviously.”

“It’s not tempting fate,” protested Moondog, “it’s fact! I can say ‘protecting your dreams is what I was born to do’ and be completely, utterly, literally correct. I was built, spell by spell and enchantment by enchantment, to make ponies’ dreams better. And trust me…” She reached into her shirt and pulled out a thick sheaf of typewritten paper. “I can go on like this for a while. Want me to continue?” She ruffled the pages menacingly.

“No.” Sunset lay on her back, her arms spread, and stared at the sun. Her eyes didn’t hurt. “You’re right, you’re right. But nothing else I’ve tried has worked, so I’m sorry if I’m a little cynical.”

“You’re forgiven.” Moondog tossed the papers into the air; they folded themselves into origami-ish birds and flew away. “But please, just- a little faith in me would be nice. It’s what you asked me to do, right?”

Not in the mood to argue, Sunset shrugged. “Sure.”

“Now we just gotta wait until that guy of yours shows up. Unfortunately.”

One of the bad things about lucid dreaming: you could sleep without actually resting. Sunset could lie on her back, stargazing, and know that she was asleep, but that didn’t mean she was relaxing, not one bit. Any second now, the man with the staff would be back, his nightmares with him, and after she’d already done all the waiting awake. It was like Zeneigh’s paradox, with the end always just out of reach. Hopefully, Moondog was half as dedicated to cleansing dreams as she claimed to be.

“Fingers are so, so convenient,” Moondog said, wiggling hers. “I can’t believe ponies get weirded out if I ever have them. Sheesh, are they really that different from pegasi having wings? And I can do this!” She gave Sunset a thumbs-up. “Best gesture? Best gesture. …Try saying that ten times fast.”

“Most ponies that come through the portal are really disoriented,” Sunset said. “You went through a bigger change than any of them and you barely blinked.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “How come?”

“Easy. I can look like whatever I want in dreams and I’ve been objects before. Gotta be able to adjust, you know?” Moondog smiled and tapped her temple. “I mean, I’m just human right now ’cause you’re human. Back in Equestria…” Her shape suddenly lost all coherence. It collapsed into a blob that came up to a little bit above Sunset’s waist and resolved into an alicorn. “Boom. There you go. Dream Defender, Equine Edition.” Moondog flared her wings and bowed.

Sunset sat bolt upright in surprise. The specifics of the portal meant she’d never really got an exact size comparison between humans and ponies, but she hadn’t expected a difference this drastic. For someone who was second-in-charge of dreams, Moondog was pretty cute. In fact- “Sooooo… are ponies just the most adorable things ever and I somehow never noticed when I was one?”

“Not quite. The most adorable things ever are chickadees. Seriously, have you seen them?” Moondog held up a hoof and a chickadee puffed into existence, fee-beeing happily. “They’re like hyperactive little balls of fluff.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them. Still not as adorable as ponies.” Sunset crouched down to Moondog’s level. Holy cow, those eyes were huge. Holy cow, look at those ears. “It’s a bit of a different perspective when I’m not one.” And before she knew it, she was scratching Moondog beneath the chin.

Humming, Moondog tilted her head back and wiggled her ears. “You know… Thank you, not that I don’t like this, but maybe I- a little to the left… yeah, right there… -maybe I should just stay a human so I don’t trigger your ‘adorableness deserves scritches’ instincts.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Sunset gave Moondog’s ears one last scratch and stepped back. Another blur, and Moondog was human again. Still with that absurd outfit. “But you can look like anything you want… and you want to look like that?”

“Yep!”

“You have no idea how dorky you look.”

“Oh, I know exactly how dorky I look,” Moondog said with a grin. “A little nonsense here and there is relished by the wisest mares.”

“Then Pinkie Pie’s the buddha.”

Moondog laughed. “Oh, Mom. Can you imagine Pinkie- knowing… Hold up…”

The temperature suddenly dropped several dozen degrees. Gnarled, leafless trees grew up above the skyline, their branches grabbing like claws, and the clouds rose slightly to become mist. The ground beneath Sunset’s feet congealed into hard-packed dirt and rocks. Her breath caught in her throat. “He’s here,” she whispered. As she looked around for the invader, she unconsciously took a few steps closer to Moondog.

“Okay,” whispered Moondog. She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s see now… Overpowering this is…” She flicked a finger at a tree. It promptly pulled its roots from the ground and walked away like some kind of spider. “Ha! No problem. He won’t know what hit him.” And she vanished.

“Moondog?” Sunset turned on the spot, but saw nothing but trees. “Where are-”

“Still here,” Moondog’s voice said in her ear. A wave of physical warmth washed over Sunset. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Whatever you do, don’t run. If he’s anything like the nightmare beasties back in Equestria, he likes power, so not playing by his rules’ll really rattle his morale, especially when his magic stops working for some strange reason.” A few purple sparks danced in front of Sunset’s eyes. “And in dreams, morale is everything. Surprises hurt morale more.”

“Alright,” Sunset said. She gulped and balled her hands into fists. She could do this. She could do this. She could do this.

The man’s voice boomed from everywhere. “Ah, hello again! We really must stop meeting like this.” The mist pulled itself into his shape as he reclined across an invisible chair (throne, more like) with the Caduceus lying across his legs. He grinned that punchable grin again. “Ready for round 2?”

She could do this. “No,” Sunset said.

Shock ran across the man’s face and his position in the air faltered. Sunset heard Moondog snort. When he started smiling again, it was a lot more forced. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I mean no,” Sunset replied, more confidently. “We do something like this every night. Can’t we mix it up? How about a concert? I’m a pretty good guitarist.”

The man’s laugh was as fake as anything Sunset could imagine. “Well, y-you might not be ready for round 2, but round 2 is ready for you!” He waved the staff at the forest; a deep howl rent the night. Trees were pushed aside and broken like twigs as two enormous, growling wolves moved into the clearing. Their fangs were sharp and their jaws were strong and they glared at Sunset with murder in their eyes.

The man grinned, some of his confidence back. “You know what to do. Run, rabbit, run!”

Sunset took a deep breath, steeled herself, and didn’t run. The wolves slowly moved closer, snapping at her. Then one closed its mouth and tilted its head. One of its ears twitched and it turned to the other. “Hey, Romulus?”

“Yeah, Remus?” asked the second wolf, still snarling at Sunset.

“Why are we doing this, again? Chasing a scared teenage girl through the woods…” Remus folded his ears back and tucked his tail between his legs. “Is that really what we wanna be doing with life? It’s so… nothing. I was almost a public defender, you know.”

The man actually fell from the air this time, lying sprawled across the ground. He stared at the Caduceus, his mouth working soundlessly. The sapphire glowed brighter, but nothing changed; Moondog contemptuously muttered, “Amateur.”

Romulus’s ears went up and he turned to Remus. “Really? But that’s a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but I would’ve been doing some good in the world! Not like- You know what, screw it. I’m going back to Delta.” Remus turned around and yelled to the man, “Hey! —--- you, buddy! You’re sick!”

“How-” The man stared in increasing horror between Sunset and the wolves. “How are you-”

“Look, Remus, I know what you’re saying,” said Romulus, “but this is all I got! I need to put carcasses on the den floor somehow and-”

“Public defenders are overworked like whoa. You wanna be my assistant? Pay’s not the greatest, but you can live on it and it’s honest.”

“Good enough for me.” Romulus glanced at the man, “Look, Mr.… I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

Even Sunset could tell that his response was reflexive as he tried to make some sense of what was happening. “E-exterreri.”

“Mr. Exterreri.” Romulus made a face that Sunset suspected was a proxy for Moondog’s expression. “I’d say it’s been fun, but… it really, really hasn’t. Let’s go, Remus. Sorry, lady!” The wolves vanished into the forest.

Exterreri stared at the Caduceus, at Sunset, at where the wolves had vanished. “How…” he asked, barely able to speak, “how did… you…”

“Hi!” Some of the mist pulled itself into the center of the clearing and condensed into Moondog. She held out her hand for Exterreri to shake. “Name’s Moondog. Not so nice to meetcha. I’m pretty good with dreams, myself.”

“She is!” Remus yelled from the forest.

“This is-” Exterreri backed up, pointing the staff at Moondog. “You’re the one interfering with my work! Not her!”

“‘Interfering’ is a bit much,” said Moondog, leaning against a tree. “‘Enliven’ is more accurate. Seriously, that was a rookie nightmare.”

“I’m more powerful than you realize,” snapped Exterreri. “More powerful than you can-”

Moondog whistled; thorny vines sprang from the ground and wrapped themselves around Exterreri’s limbs, binding him tightly. “And still not powerful enough,” she said, smirking. She glanced around. “And dull, too. Spooky forest? Come on.” She casually snapped her fingers and everything turned inside-out, returning the setting to above the clouds. Exterreri’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Much better, don’t you think?” asked Moondog.

But the brief spike of elation Sunset had felt upon seeing Exterreri finally get trounced was wearing off; now, her mind was racing. Restraining him like that might’ve worked in normal dreams in Equestria, but his presence here required the constant use of the Caduceus’s power. Even if he couldn’t do anything in the dream, he might be able to-

“Now, look,” continued Moondog. She wasn’t even looking at Exterreri. “I protect dreams. In short, you are not welcome here.” When she turned around, her grin was predatory, even with the tuxedo T-shirt. “So just make things easy on yourself, okay? You can start by apologizing to the nice young woman here.”

Exterreri blinked and his breathing steadied. As he stopped struggling against the vines, he looked at Moondog, at Sunset. He looked at the Caduceus, still in his grip. The sapphire began flickering.

Sunset immediately knew he’d gotten the same idea he had. She lunged forward, grabbed his hand, and, with a twist of magic-

-knew everything.

The sapphire went out, its magic no longer in use. The hand vanished from her grip and Exterreri was gone.

Moondog blinked. “What? WHAAAAAAAT?” She grabbed at the vines where his body had been, to no avail. “But he- He was restrained! Like, metaphysically! He couldn’t-”

“He was projecting himself into my dreams with the Caduceus, remember?” said Sunset. She massaged her forehead. “He just turned it off and stopped projecting.” So simple, yet so easy to miss.

“But that- That’s not fair!” yelled Moondog. “Maybe-” She charged forward and collided with the skybox. She pushed and shoved against nothing, but nothing was impossible to get through. “Seriously?” Moondog screamed to the heavens. “I can’t-?” She began kicking at space, each clanging impact punctuating another word. “Open! You! Stupid! Archetypal! Thoughtway!” She slouched forward, her head against the lack of door. “Fudge,” she mumbled. Nothing gave way and she toppled onto her face.

Sunset rolled her onto her back with a foot. Moondog didn’t look hurt, just pouty. She waved a hand through the space Moondog had kicked but couldn’t feel anything. “Now what’s up?” she asked.

“Semantics and restricted magic,” mumbled Moondog. “Normally, I can just jump out of your dreams and into somepony else’s like wheeeeeee. I figured, maybe I could find him in the collective unconscious. But here, I think I’m stuck with that watch. You’re wearing that watch. No go for me.” She blew a short raspberry.

“Having no magic’s a bummer, isn’t it?” said Sunset. She grabbed Moondog’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “When I first came here, I had trouble remembering that I needed to get up and walk to something instead of just levitating it over.”

“Wow,” Moondog said, wincing. “That must’ve sucked. Can’t imagine what it’d be like if I couldn’t enter your dreams at all.” She sighed. “I really should’ve seen him just- leaving like that. I remembered he technically wasn’t here enough to avoid looking into his memories, I just never thought he’d… Yeah.” She moaned and collapsed back onto an invisible bed. “This world suuuuuuuuucks.”

“You can look into memories, too?” It made some form of sense, though. Dreams were often tied to memories, weren’t they?

“To a certain degree. It helps me personalize dreams.” Moondog gestured vaguely. “And I can avoid hold up.” She sat up and got right in Sunset’s face before realizing her mistake and backing up. “What do you mean, ‘too’?” she asked suspiciously.

“Didn’t Twilight tell you? When I touch someone, I can see the memories related to what they’re thinking about right then. That’s why I grabbed him right before he left. After he found the Caduceus, he started studying it at 113 Hay Street. I think he’s still there.”

“Okay, neat, but hold on, he really was here? At least enough that I could’ve looked into his memories?” Moondog looked one way, her mouth moving silently. She looked another. And another. Then she looked at Sunset and said, “Booger.” She collapsed onto her butt, lightly punching herself in the face. “Ai. Yai yai. Yai YAI. Stop. Making. Assumptions. They only make an-”

“Hey!” Sunset pulled Moondog to her feet. “Look. I know you feel stupid, but you’re doing great! Just one night, and we already know you can drive this guy away, we know his name’s Exterreri, and we even know where he is! One night!” A pause, then she hugged Moondog tightly. “Thank you so much. My friends are going to love this.”

“Well.” Moondog cleared her throat. “Thanks.” A quick return hug, then she evaporated out of Sunset’s grip and reformed a few feet back. She smiled a little and said, “Seriously, that means a lot to me. This… isn’t really my best night.” She looked at her hand for a second, then held it out to Sunset. “Think your magic’ll work on me?”

“You’re sure? I can’t control what I see.”

“If it’s just memories about my current thoughts, you’ll only see stuff you can guess anyway. And if you don’t… Well, Twilight trusts you, and that’s good enough for me.”

Oh, what the heck. Sunset took Moondog’s hand, flexed her magic, and-

Ii4uLm5hbWUncyBTdW5zZXQgU2hpbW1lci4gU2hlIHdhcyBhIHN0dWRlbnQgb2YgQ2VsZXN0aWEncywgYnV0IHRoZXkuLi4gaGFkIGEgZmFsbGluZyBvdXQuIFNoZSByYW4gYXdheSB0byBhbm90aGVyIHdvcmxkIHNvLi4uIg0KDQoiLi4uZHJlYW1zLiBPZiBjb3Vyc2UgaXQnbGwgYmUgZWFzeSEiICJEb24ndCBnZXQgdG9vIGNvY2t5LiBTZWUsIGluIHRoYXQgd29ybGQuLi4iDQoNCiIuLi5tYW5pcHVsYXRlIG1hZ2ljIGluIHRoZSByaWdodCB3YXkgdG8gYWNjZXNzIGRyZWFtcy4gVGhhdCBjaGFybSBJIG1hZGUgZm9yIFNoaW5pbmcncyBXQVkgbW9yZSBlZmZpY2llbnQsIHRob3VnaCEgSXQncyBhY3R1YWxseSBkcmVhbSBtYWdpYywgbm90IHNvbWUtIg0KDQotLUVycm9yOyBVbmF1dGhvcml6ZWRBY2Nlc3NFeGNlcHRpb24gZQ0KbWVtb3JpZXMuY2xvc2UoKTs=

-stumbled back, clutching her head and groaning. Apparently, the thoughts of a machine were only machine-readable. The only resemblance that mess bore to humans’ memories was if those memories had been thrown into a woodchipper. She’d only caught the most basic snatches of things that resembled thought, and when she’d tried making sense of it, it was like she’d been forced out somehow. She’d never been ejected from someone’s head before, but then, she’d never read the mind of anyone skilled in mental magic before.

For her part, Moondog gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Mom, I am so sorry,” she half-squeaked. “You started poking and- And I honestly don’t know what I did! It was a reflex! Sorry sorry sorry!”

“I’m fine.” Sunset pulled her hands away from her head, half-expecting to see thoughts dripping from her fingers. Luckily, there was nothing. “Just surprised.”

“Hem. Sorry. Let’s not do that again.”

A very good idea, Sunset thought. She looked at where Exterreri had vanished. “So now what? If he’s gone and you can’t leave-” She twitched as she realized something. “Do I have to wait this whole night out?”

“Well, to be honest… I’m not that good at dreamless sleep.” Moondog grinned sheepishly. “But I can remove your lucidity so you won’t notice anything. Don’t worry, I can still keep you safe. Just relax, okay?” She snapped her fingers. Sunset’s focus drifted away and everything seemed to matter less; whatever happened next, she couldn’t remember.

The first thing Sunset did once she woke up was check Moondog’s charge. Still 100%. “What sort of batteries does this thing have?” she muttered to herself. “That orgone must be something else.”

Even if Moondog hadn’t been able to completely stop this Exterreri, Sunset’s night had been peaceful enough that she felt better than she’d had in days, thanks to the wonder of a good night’s sleep. And not only did she have rest, she also had help and an address, all things she’d been lacking in just yesterday. To top it all off, today was a Saturday. She glanced at her phone and- wow, it wasn’t even 9 yet. It was one of the brightest-looking days she’d had in a while. She texted a quick message to Twilight: Cn I cm ovr? Gt mgc hlp abt drms.

She plugged her headphones back into the watch. “Moondog? How’re you doing?” She clicked a pen and opened up her journal.

“I should have a hologram,” Moondog said grumpily. “I’ve been looking around here all night and I can’t find a hologram. Why doesn’t this thing have a hologram?”

“Because our tech hasn’t progressed that far yet,” said Sunset. She scribbled a quick message to Twilight, giving her the news. “Not for my Twilight’s lack of trying, though. Seriously, how are you?”

“Fine, if hologramless. Dreams still work fine for me if I don’t try to leave. Got any plans for the day?”

“Not yet.” Sunset arched her back and stretched. Man she felt good. Compared to yesterday, she could practically run a marathon. “If some of my friends feel up to it, we might see if we can just steal the Caduceus from him today.”

“Neat. You know, you girls are REALLY lucky all the Equestrian artifacts that wind up in this world are near you.”

“Actually, it’s probably the other way around. There might be something around here that’s attracting magic. And since I’m technically magic, I was attracted here when I first arrived. Or maybe it’s just because this is where our side of the portal is.”

“Huh. Good point.”

“Also, all the Equestrian artifacts that we know about are near us.”

Sunset’s phone buzzed; Twilight had replied back: Sure. Getme somthing from Has Beans.Strong. Coffee. Of course. “This world’s Twilight is interested in talking. Wanna come along?”

“Absolutely, but you’d drag me along no matter what I said, right?”

“Great. She’s gonna love you. And yes.”

“How did you contact her so quickly, anyway?”

As Sunset pulled on her jacket, she said, “So, there’re these things called ‘phones’…”

Author's Notes:

Chapter was getting long, so I split it into two. Tune in next week, same human time, same human site.

Deployment Environments: Release

Even walking around town felt great with a little bit of rest. Sunset was practically skipping along the sidewalk to Twilight’s house, stopped only by the Has Beans takeout coffee cup holder she had in one hand — medium roast for her, espresso for Twilight. Her other hand had a bag of donuts, because of course she got donuts. Caffeine for the Caffeine Goddess, Donuts for the Donut Throne, Wondercolts for the Cup. Such was the way, and it was good.

“I probably sound like an alien saying this,” Sunset mused, “but I love a good night’s sleep.”

“Most people don’t realize how much they do until they don’t have one,” Moondog said. “And my job’s making it as good as possible.”

“I said this before, but thank you. I feel great.”

Sunset sidled up to Twilight’s door and rang the doorbell. She was feeling so great that she didn’t mind waiting several minutes for Twilight to drag herself down. When Twilight finally opened the door, she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed (which was probably the case). Her pajamas were wrinkled, her glasses were askew, her hair was a cottony briar patch, and she leaned against the doorframe like she’d fall apart otherwise. She blinked blearily up at Sunset.

“Hey, Twi.” Given Twilight’s state, Sunset did her best to not sound too chipper. “Did I wake you up? Sorry, I thought you’d be up already.”

“S’alright. Long night.” Twilight rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Please tell me you have coffee,” she mumbled.

“I bring coffee.” Sunset held the cups just below Twilight’s nose. “I also bear donuts and good news.”

“I love you forever and always.”

“You already do.”

“Compared to the usual, Bacon Hair. Early. Tired. Brain not can do think right. Give.”

One partial coffee chug (aborted because of temperature), two full chugs, ten sips, and eight donut bites later, Twilight looked like something resembling awake. She slouched at her desk chair in her room, cradling her cup of espresso like it was some unique crystalline formation. She didn’t even protest Sunset rummaging through her tech accessories. “So you managed to get some magic help?” she said through a mouthful of donut. “What’d Other Me say?”

“Even better than saying.” Sunset pushed aside a coil of wire. “We got some help on this side thr- Ha! There you are.” She pulled out a tiny portable speaker and plugged it into the watch. “Twilight, say hello to Moondog.” She took a seat on the floor.

Twilight swallowed and, after an iota’s hesitation, said to the watch, “Hello, Moondog.” She gave Sunset a Look.

“Hey,” said Moondog. “The other Twilight sent me over to help. Dreams are kinda my thing.”

“Moondog manages dreams over in Equestria,” Sunset said, “and-”

“But that would take magic,” Twilight said, “right?” She stared into her coffee cup like it was a crystal ball. “Magic she probably doesn’t have on this side of the portal. So she might not be able to do anything here. Unless dreams can cross dimensions, which I guess could be a thing, and she’s still in Equestria. But if there isn’t much magic in this world anyway, why would it work in dreams? And she’s talking through a phone right now, so how come-” She twitched and quickly took a sip of coffee before her train of thought became a runaway.

“All of those are WAY off,” Moondog said, chuckling. “Except one. Which one’s a secret.”

Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sure you two love this, but I had a bad night. Why’s Moondog on the phone rather than here?”

“She is here.” Sunset held up her wrist. “You’re looking at her.”

“At- her? That’s just- or- Wait.” Twilight blinked and put her coffee on the desk. “So… you’re saying…” A moment passed. Her eyes lit up as she connected the dots in that uniquely Twilight way and squealed, “Moondog’s an artificial intelligence?!”

“I guess that’d be the term,” said Moondog. “Back in Equestria, it’d be ‘golem’. Or ‘automaton’ or ‘tulpa’. Or ‘accident’ if you ask Discord. Please don’t.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. Gosh.” She perked up so much it was like a gallon of caffeine had been injected directly into her aorta. But Sunset had no time to rue her now-needless purchase of coffee; she was wrenched to her feet as Twilight snatched her wrist and dragged it up to eye level to stare at the watch. “And you live or exist or whatever in there? What’s it like? Is-”

“Whoa, hey!” Sunset yanked her wrist free. “Be careful with her! And why’re you so-” -explosive with glee and- “-excited about this? What about that android you built for Spike? Wasn’t that an AI?”

“That was a skyloid, and it wasn’t totally sapient! It wasn’t snarky! Moondog can be snarky! Dynamically snarky! Do you have any idea how weird dynamic snark is from a computer science perspective?”

“I’m from a world that hasn’t invented the telephone yet, so… no.”

“She did it again! Eeeeeee!”

“I’m glad to see snark is so highly valued. Sarcasm is such a rare commodity.”

“Moondog,” said Sunset, “you’re going to give Twilight a heart attack. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Twilight. She took a few deep breaths that were still fast enough to almost qualify as hyperventilation. “But it’s… I’d take you apart if I could!” And she promptly turned beet red. “Wow that sounded bad. Um. What I mean is-”

“You’re fascinated by my implications and want to study me as non-invasively as possible?”

“Ehm.” Twilight ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes.”

“Heh. You are DEFINITELY this world’s Twilight. No offense taken.”

“Wait, wait, hang on. If…” Twilight paced back and forth, staring at the ground and stroking her chin. “I don’t think you have a duplicate on this side of the portal,” she said. “But if you were made by Princess Luna…” A grin began growing on her face. “…and you’re a smartwatch here… then-”

Sunset immediately knew where that train of thought was headed. “No, Twilight,” she said flatly, “convincing Vice-Principal Luna to take up programming will not make her spontaneously start developing sapient AI.”

“Aaare yooou suuuuuure?”

“Yes. Remember how the other Spike could talk on this side of the portal but yours couldn’t at first? Same thing. I bet Moondog’s only sapient because of Equestrian magic.”

“Must you shoot down every single one of my dreams?”

“That’s Exterreri’s job right now, and hopefully we’re taking him out soon, so I’m getting ready to replace him.”

Twilight’s face went blank. “Who?”

“Exterreri,” said Moondog. “The guy in your dreams with the staff. But its actual name is the- snrk -the CADUCEUS of the Unreal.”

“…What’re you laughing about? That sort of staff is a caduceus. In Thessalian mythology, one of them belonged to-”

“He tried attacking me again last night,” Sunset said quickly, heading off Twilight’s tangent before she could really get going. “But with Moondog’s help, I fought him off and managed to read his mind. He’s at 113 Hay Street and he’s using the Caduceus-” (She kept a straight face under Twilight’s steely glare. You did not mock terminology around Twilight Sparkle, not even when those terms were “briffits”, “squeans”, and “grawlixes”.) “-to torment us because… Okay, I don’t know. I think because he’s a bully.”

“113 Hay Street…” Twilight muttered. “There’s not much on that side of town… Perfect for hiding out…”

“So I was just going to round up the girls that feel up to it and get the Caduceus from him,” said Sunset. “I don’t think he knows I know. You’re the first one I asked. You feel up to some magical girling?”

“I… guess. I mean, I feel up to it, it’s just-” Twilight looked longingly at the watch. “Can I-”

“You can look at Moondog after we get the Caduceus,” Sunset said resolutely. “If Moondog’s okay with it.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t kill me and we’re golden. …That’s, um, not passive aggression, by the way, you really can look at me.”

“Can’t I look now?” asked Twilight. Her eyes were big; she was already entering the puppy-dog phase of pleading.

Unfortunately for Twilight, Sunset had built up a strong resistance to the puppy-dog phase over the years. “If I give Moondog to you, you’ll disappear for a month! I haven’t even texted anyone else yet! Can’t it wait for a few hours?”

But Twilight remained undeterred. “Please? Please please pleeeaaase? I promise I’ll be done before the others respond! It won’t take more than thirty minutes!”

“Fine.” Sunset passed the watch over to Twilight. “But I’m counting.”

Twelve minutes and fifty-seven seconds later…

“Breakthrooooouuuuugh!” Twilight sang. She re-entered her room doing some jerky spasm that was probably supposed to be a dance. Brushing some imaginary dust off her clothes, she said, “I don’t mean to brag, but-”

“Do it do it do it!” said Moondog, her voice now coming from the watch itself. “Bragging’s fun!”

Sunset looked up from her phone. “Bragging about what?” Watching Twilight brag was quite nice, really; most of the time, she turned inward and studied rather than gushing about her studies to someone else, so it was a good change of pace. “And you don’t need the headphones anymore?”

“Nope!” chirped Twilight. “There was a discreetness setting on there. I mean, it was literally called ‘Discreet’.” She held up the watch so Sunset could see the settings screen. Sure enough, “Discreet” was set to Off. “According to the manual, it just mutes the external speakers, buuuuuut we should probably switch it back before Moondog goes back to Equestria. Just in case.”

And Sunset promptly had a vision of Princess Luna giving her what for: “Sunset, why is my daughter telling everyone every secret she knows?” “I hit the wrong button.”

“Anyway… Sunset, this thing is nuts.” Twilight held the watch like it was more valuable than a Fabuckgé egg. “I took the rear cover off and- Yes I was careful and had Moondog’s permission, don’t give me that look! Anyway, I looked at it under a microscope and it’s like- This doesn’t use semiconductors for computation, it uses a hyperfine heterogenous lattice of reverse piezoelectric crystals!”

“Wow. That’s impressive,” said Sunset. “Is it also supposed to mean something?”

“That’s what I said,” said Moondog, “and I’m MADE of the stuff.”

Twilight was so elated she didn’t even care about the usual “layman’s terms” quip. “This, this, this…” she said quietly. Her hands were actually shaking. “This is the most beautiful blending of magic and technology I’ve ever seen. It’s… It’s not pure technology, like anything on this side, but it’s not pure magic, like any of those Equestrian artifacts, and it’s also not technology using magic for one or two things. As far as I can tell, the crystal is basically a biological computer, except magic is replacing all the biological needs and functions. I…” She staggered back onto her chair and started laughing.

“Hey.” Sunset leaned forward and snapped her fingers in front of Twilight’s face. “Still with me? No going mad scientist yet.”

Still giggling, Twilight swatted Sunset’s fingers away. “Sorry, but you kind of have to go mad scientist to study this. And I’m just talking about the watch! I haven’t even gotten to Moondog herself yet!” She twitched. “Or the batteries! The batteries.”

“The batteries?”

“The batteries!”

“The wrist strap!” yelled Moondog. “Just tell her, Twilight.”

Twilight waved the watch at Sunset again. “From what I can tell, they’re attuned by magic to absorb loose life energy. No, not anything we’ll miss, just bits and pieces here and there, like drops of water from the ocean. Because of the way Moondog interfaces with dreams — I still haven’t managed to figure out how that works yet — they’re especially focused on mental energy, meaning I can recharge it by thinking hard enough!” She stroked the watch lovingly. “It’s like this was made for me,” she cooed.

Already, Sunset was regretting handing the watch over. Just a quarter of an hour and Twilight was nearly beyond recovery. She cleared her throat. “So, anyway, I was tex-”

“Wait! Just one more thing.” Twilight pulled out a battered old laptop and a charging cable from a drawer. As the laptop started up, one end of the cable went into the laptop and the other-

“Whoa, no.” Sunset grabbed Twilight’s wrist before she could plug Moondog into the laptop. “We’re just getting rid of our bad dreams, not introducing an arcane intelligence to computing!”

“Sunset, it’s an immensely complicated piece of arcane technology from another universe and it can connect to USB! What kind of scientist would I be if I didn’t try?”

“One concerned with computer security?”

“Which is why I’m using an old laptop! If Moondog breaks anything, I won’t care! And the wireless is turned off so she can’t even leave by accident!”

“You don’t even know if Moondog is okay with it!”

“Okay with what? I don’t know the words you’re using and I can barely even see, you know!”

Sunset risked releasing Twilight’s wrist. Twilight still had enough self-control to not plug Moondog in right then and there, although it was easy to tell that she so wanted to. “There are these… machines in our world that can… work with information and-”

“They’re JUST machines? Not intelligent like me?”

“No!” Twilight said quickly. “Computers don’t do anything unless you tell them to! Sunset, this computer is absolutely clean. As in, ‘the hard drive was wiped and the OS is a fresh install and I haven’t even connected to the Internet yet’ clean.”

“I think I might be able to handle it,” said Moondog slowly. “I have some self-reparation spells I can run if things get bad. But I’ll let you decide, Sunset. You know this better than me.”

By now, the laptop had booted up. Sunset glanced at the desktop; no folders except the defaults. Twilight had the weird quality of preparing for arbitrary events so that she could be impulsive when she wanted to be, so having a clean computer around for exactly this specific situation wasn’t that out-of-place for her. There’d be no viruses, no autoplay programs, no nothing. And, well, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested. (Twilight had worn off on her quite a lot since they’d met.)

“Fine,” Sunset replied. “Go ahead, but be ready to unplug the watch if anything goes wrong.”

“Yes!” Twilight plugged the watch into the laptop; the battery readout turned green as a few sparkles were superimposed on it. “Let me know when anything changes!” She went to Devices and waited eagerly.

“Sure thing.”

A full minute later, nothing had happened. Not in Moondog, not on the computer. Twilight’s smile was slipping, millimeter by millimeter. “Anything?” she asked, her voice eager but tight.

“Nope.”

“Are the drivers or whatever bad?” asked Sunset. She wasn’t sure to be happy or disappointed that interlacing an automaton with a computer had yielded nothing.

“We don’t just not have the right drivers, the computer doesn’t even sense the watch at all. Except the watch is apparently charging, so…” Twilight unplugged and replugged the watch. “No…” Again. “No…” Again. “No…” Again. “No…”

“You know, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

“Which can actually happen with computers as their state changes.” Unplug, replug. “Still no! Why must you torment me so, differing system architecture?” Unplug, no replug. Twilight slouched back in her chair. “Phooey.”

“So now what?” asked Moondog.

Sunset looked back at her phone. “I’ve been texting the girls about if they want to help. Fluttershy would be up to it but she has some work at the pet shop that needs to be done, Rarity insists she needs her beauty sleep, and Pinkie Pie is experiencing a sugar crash from trying to keep herself awake with a sugar rush.” She squinted at the mess onscreen. “At least, I think that’s what this gobbledegook means. Rainbow Dash and Applejack are both fine, though. Meet them at Has Beans in thirty minutes? Yes, I’ll pay.”

“Sure.” Twilight stared forlornly at the watch. “I need something to distract me from this grievous failure of science.”

“My world’s Twilight has written a treatise on me,” said Moondog.

“Oh!” Twilight’s mood turned sunny in an instant. “Why didn’t you say so? Can I borrow it once we’re done?”

“Maybe. It’s complicated.”

Rainbow Dash wasn’t looking that great when Sunset, Moondog, and Twilight arrived at Has Beans; her hair was in even more of a tangle than usual and she had large bags under her eyes. But she wasn’t slouching or yawning, and she looked just as raring to go as always; maybe she just wanted a chance to punch a baddie in the face. Applejack looked absolutely normal. Was she escaping the worst of Exterreri’s torments or was that just Applejack? Probably the latter.

Sunset picked up coffee for Rainbow and Applejack, donuts for the humans, and an out-of-the-way booth for everybody. Rainbow chugged her coffee like she was dehydrated while Applejack took long, steady sips. As they were drinking, Sunset said, “As I said, I wrote to Princess Twilight for help. She told me that man’s controlling our dreams with that staff of his and, to help…” She held up the watch. “She sent over Moondog.”

“Yo,” said Moondog.

Rainbow froze mid-drink and slowly lowered her cup. She stared her cup, then said, “I asked for coffee, not drugs, Sunset.”

“Um,” said Twilight, “technically, caffeine- Bad time, shutting up.” She stuffed a donut in her mouth to ensure that.

“Princess Luna made Moondog to help her manage dreams, so on this side of the portal, she’s an AI,” said Sunset. “Completely contained inside this, but, yes, she can still protect the dreams of whoever’s wearing it.”

Applejack frowned. “Huh.” She took the watch from Sunset and examined it. “She ain’t gonna go all HAE 9000 on us, is she?”

“It’s actually a common misconception that HAE just went crazy out of nowhere,” said Twilight. “She kind of did in the movie, but it’s clear in the book that her basic programming to help the crew and not withhold any information from them clashed with secret orders to her from their superiors to keep the true nature of their mission a secret, so she decided to just cut out the middleman and run the mission herself, thereby resolving the paradox. She was even working on a nonviolent solution, but then she heard — well, lip-read — that she was going to be disconnected for maintenance, and since she didn’t know what sleep was, she thought she was going to die, so her killing the crew was really closer to a misguided case of self-defense than the usual AI randomly turning into a murderbot.”

Everybody stared.

“Of course I read the book, it’s a book!” snapped Twilight. “And a classic, to boot!”

“I didn’t know there was a book,” said Rainbow.

“I don’t know what anybody’s even talking about,” mumbled Moondog.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “The point is that unless Luna gave Moondog irreconcilable commands, we won’t have to worry about her snapping on us.”

“Make good dreams and don’t hurt people,” Moondog said. “Those’re my two most basic commands. And, yes, it’s the species-nonspecific ‘people’, and not just ponies.”

“She helped protect my dreams last night,” said Sunset. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. And she’s been working in Equestria for… I think almost two years? If she was going to snap, she’d’ve done it long before now.”

“Good enough for me.” Applejack passed the watch back to Sunset. “So Moondog got zapped over here, and then…”

“I wore her to bed last night and that man showed up again,” said Sunset. “Moondog protected me, and I read his mind and found that his name’s Exterreri and he’s at 113 Hay Street. I thought we should just nip this in the bud right now. Get out there, nab the staff-”

“Caduceus,” said Twilight.

“-from him, and finally have a good night’s sleep. Exterreri himself… I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Applejack. Pause. “Not a real good one, mind, but it’s more’n I got.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” said Sunset. “Anyone?” Nope.

“Yeah, let’s just get this over with,” Rainbow said, “before we realize how stupid we’re being.”

“I don’t think that’s ever stopped us before,” said Twilight.

“True. Anyway…” Rainbow stood up and stretched. “Can I see that watch?”

“So you can make anything in a dream?” Rainbow asked the watch.

“Pretty much,” confirmed Moondog.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack looked at each other. “Literally?” Rainbow asked again.

“Literally.” Moondog sounded slightly annoyed. “Literal literal, not figurative literal.”

“Even on this side of the portal?”

“The answer to the question you’re dancing around is yes, I can.”

Rainbow shoved the watch at Applejack. “Whydon’tyouaskMoondogsomethingokay.”

They were about halfway to 113 Hay St., getting to a more industrial side of town none of them had ever had a reason to go to. Buildings were getting less colorful, more concrete, and there was less traffic. Exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find someone hiding out. (How did that make sense?) Twilight and Sunset were some ways behind Rainbow Dash and Applejack, following them quietly. Twilight kept staring at the watch like it held the secrets of the universe.

“You can look at Moondog later, Twi,” Sunset said again.

“Sorry, but- I’m like a kid at Christmas and I have no idea what that super-huge gift under the tree is and I want to look at it sooooooo bad, but I can’t because- You know.”

“Kinda, yeah. What’ll you do if you can’t figure her out?”

Twilight looked at Sunset like she’d just said water wasn’t wet. “Huh?”

“Moondog’s a magical automaton capable of abstract thought. Siri has trouble understanding me if Pinkie Pie’s humming in the background.” Sunset grinned. “What’ll you do if, you know…” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “…understanding her is out of your league?”

Twilight tilted her head. “That’s what science is for. I’ll make it work. I’ll expand my league if I have to! I’ll probe her as best I can, even if-”

A sudden wave of pressure washed over Sunset. She flinched and reached up to grab her head, only to see centipedes crawling up and down her arm. Yelping, she tried to shake them off, but they clung like glue.

“Sunset?” asked Twilight. “What’s wrong?”

Sunset clawed at her arms as the centipedes scurried across her; she might as well have been grabbing at air. She didn’t feel them. Why didn’t she feel them?

“Are you okay?” Twilight grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Is-”

“Illusions,” gasped Sunset. That was the only explanation. She forced herself to stay still, even as her reflexes told her to rip off the things swarming around on her skin. “I-” A tinnitus-like buzz began droning in her ear, getting louder by the second. “I think it’s Ex-”

Twilight glanced at Sunset’s arm in confusion, only to get it a second later. “Rainbow!” she yelled. “We need Moondog now! C’mon, let’s get you to-”

Her voice went silent, and the only thing Sunset could hear was the buzz. Everything went black a second later. Sunset felt something tug at her arm; she let herself be blindly led over to a… wall? It felt cold, like concrete, but it was too smooth, too fake. The sensation of a dozen little snakes suddenly appeared on her arm, swiftly contracting into a dozen hundred little pinpricks. She instinctively smacked herself on the arm to get rid of them, but only got a throbbing pain for her trouble.

Then Moondog’s voice appeared in her ear, distorted but strong. “Sonuva- Some magic’s messing with your senses directly, making you hallucinate. This’s gotta be Exterreri. He probably did some more work with the staff and repurposed its magic again, something halfway between illusions and dreams. I’d be impressed if it weren’t so cruel.”

The world began tilting like one big carnival ride. The black kaleidoscoped into sickly blues, greens, and yellows. What few surfaces Sunset could feel were unnaturally smooth. She was adrift in a mire of her own senses. “Can’t you do something?” she gasped.

“Doing my best. Listen, don’t move. Even if everything around you is a hallucination, you’re still moving in the real world. He might even be messing with your proprioception.”

“Great,” muttered Sunset. She pulled her knees to her chin and gripped her jeans as tightly as she could. At least she’d be hard to budge.

“I’m trying to see if I can get you out, but normally I’d wake you up and you’re already awake, so- Sorry. I’m letting Twilight know what’s going on.” A brief pause. “She says… She says she’s going to stay with you, but Rainbow Dash and Applejack are still going. If they can get to Exterreri-”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. As her sight pinwheeled, Sunset took long, deep breaths, trying to stay calm. She imagined she could feel something on her hand, but that was probably just wishful thinking.

Then everything stopped. She was on a white floor in a white void, the world completely still. Completely silent. She was alone. Except for a familiar man, disheveled, wearing a dirty lab coat, holding a certain winged staff.

“Hello again,” sneered Exterreri.

Sunset’s fear at her helplessness boiled into anger, which quickly simmered down into a sort of curt apathy. Exterreri had already made up his mind for whatever he was going to do, so Sunset fell back on her only action available. It wasn’t like it’d make things worse. “Hey,” she said disdainfully. “Short time, no see. New fashion sense?”

Exterreri’s expression grew even uglier. “You insolent little-”

“It’s really not doing you any favors. The black robes were a little cliché, but they were classic, you know?”

Exterreri pulled the Caduceus back like a baseball bat. As Sunset willed herself to keep thinking, It’s a hallucination, it’s not real, it’s just an illusion, she said, “Clichés are clichés for-”

Thwack. Exterreri smashed the Caduceus over Sunset’s head with all his might. Pain lanced through her skull for the briefest of instants before she reminded herself it was an illusion and her body decided to stop caring that it hurt. Somehow, the pain wasn’t painful. “-a reason, after all,” she continued. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be clichés. Since I’m awake, I’m guessing you don’t have as much control over this as usual and don’t have your supreme fashion powers.”

Exterreri prodded her in the chest with the Caduceus. “You- If you don’t-”

Sunset resisted the urge to smack the Caduceus away. Keep yourself still. “And could you keep the clichés going for one more thing? Why us? Why my friends and me? What did we do?”

“Does it matter?” growled Exterreri.

“Yeah. It does.”

Exterreri stared at Sunset. Sunset stared at Exterreri. The idea of flinching was alien to her. Even if Moondog wasn’t around, she was done. No running. No fear. If this guy wanted her to dance to his tune, she was going to change the music every single chance she got.

He blinked and backed away a single step. “What’s the use of power such as this…” He twirled the Caduceus around in his grip. “…if you’re not going to use it?” He chuckled as he gazed at it — a motion, Sunset noted, which meant he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “With this, anyone’s perceptions are mine. No one — no one — can resist it. Do you know how fun it is to watch people run around like ants? So why not make them do exactly that? This staff was practically made for that. You seven… Well. You were just the first ones the staff’s magic found, like it was drawn to you. No hard feelings.” He tried a bit too hard to make his smile look like one of control and self-confidence.

“That’s- That’s it?” yelled Sunset. “You’ve been putting my friends and I through torture every night just because you wanted to feel big?”

His facade vanished in an instant, replaced with rage. “I have more power than you ever will!” screamed Exterreri. “I can shape this realm with a thought! I can-”

“And you were lazy, too!” In all honesty, that ticked Sunset off more than anything else, the idea that she was just the first victim available rather than anything else. What happened to villains with class? “You didn’t even try to get back at someone who wronged you, which, look, I can understand that. I tried it myself, once. But you just picked the first seven random people the staff found and-”

“SHUT UP!” Exterreri dove, pinning her to the wall by pressing the Caduceus lengthwise across her neck. “You don’t get to mock me, not anymore!” he snarled. “I can make you feel whatever I want you to feel! And you will shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you!”

Her windpipe was closed off, but still Sunset breathed. The more she reminded herself that it was an illusion, the easier it was to ignore. As Exterreri stared at her with wild eyes, Sunset replied, “Bite me.”

A vein pulsed on Exterreri’s head and he giggled. “You know what? Sure. Let’s start with army ants. Everywhere. I’m sure you’ll-”

Something grabbed his hair and wrenched him back; he fell to the ground in a tangle, managing to still hold on to the Caduceus. He tried to get up, but Moondog planted a foot on his chest and forced him back down as easily as if she were stepping on a blade of grass. Her eyes blazed as she rumbled, “No.”

Sunset’s grip on her pants slackened and she almost stood up, only stopping herself at the last second. “Hey,” she said. “Took you long enough.”

“Yep. Sorry.” Moondog didn’t look away from Exterreri. “Not exactly a dream, so it took me a bit longer to figure out how to get in.”

The sapphire on the Caduceus pulsed and Exterreri vanished into mist. Rolling her eyes, Moondog grabbed one of the wisps and cracked it like a whip; the mist collapsed back into Exterreri, tumbling across the ground like he’d been thrown. Moondog was already standing over him when he came to a stop. She slowly advanced on him as he tried to shuffle away, his eyes wide, and said, “You’re new here, aren’t you? Oh, and try exiting this ‘dream’. Go on.” The way she smiled made Sunset think of a vampire. “Try it.”

Exterreri mouthed something uncouth. The sapphire began spluttering, but not in any way Sunset had seen before. Rather than looking like it was struggling to stay alight, it looked like it was struggling to go out. Exterreri’s form flickered, never vanishing completely.

“How-?” gasped Exterreri. He grabbed the Caduceus and wrenched the sapphire out completely; nothing changed. “This is-”

“Everything’s working just fine,” said Moondog. “It’s just that I’m providing the power for the staff now, not that little gem.” The sapphire crumbled to dust in Exterreri’s hands. “So here’s the deal. You are here. And as long as I say so, you will stay here.”

“P-please…” Exterreri looked away and shielded his face with his hands. “Please don’t-”

“Oh, I’m not going to do anything,” Moondog laughed. “Seriously, what kind of pathetic sadist do you think I am? You? No, I’m just going to keep you here until I’m bored. And that might take a while.” She crouched down next to him. “So, tell me: how does it feel, being on that side of the power gap? Feel good? Feel like something you want to experience over and over and over? Feel fair?”

Exterreri didn’t say anything.

“Didn’t think so. Keep that in mind when you leave, will you?” She turned her back on him, walked over to Sunset, and sat down cross-legged in front of her. “Hey. You doing alright?”

“Eh.” Sunset wiggled her hand. “I’ve been better.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get you out. Keeping him-” Moondog jerked her head in Exterreri’s direction. “-in here keeps him from prepping for Applejack and Rainbow Dash at all, but I still can’t figure out how to release you from him while not releasing him from me.” Pause. “Although, if you want, I can-”

“No, no, keep him here,” Sunset said quickly. “I can live with this for a few minutes if it keeps them safe.” With Exterreri out of the way, it was merely dull rather than scary. “Speaking of being safe, are you really just- dumping your own energy in to keep the spell running?”

“Um. Yes, but it’s not as easy as I’m making it sound to him. It’s- Don’t worry about me, I can handle it. … Yes. Really. Stop looking at me like that.” Moondog twitched and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and you’ve got someone who wants to talk to you.” She vanished, leaving Exterreri standing over Sunset. He was fiddling with the Caduceus, trying and failing to look contrite.

Absolute silence. Sunset swore she could almost hear her heart beating. Several times, Exterreri looked like he was on the verge of saying something but didn’t want to go through with it.

“I-” Exterreri took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he recited. “I-”

“No, you’re not,” Sunset said flatly. “You’re not sorry for anything.”

Taken aback, Exterreri flinched. “No, really, I-”

“Actually, let me rephrase that,” cut in Sunset. “You are sorry. Sorry that you bit off more than you can chew. Sorry that you have consequences to face. Not sorry that you did anything to hurt me and my friends. You’re just saying that so Moondog’ll let you out.”

Exterreri’s grip on the Caduceus tightened and he clenched his jaw. He twitched, glanced at Moondog, and stayed silent.

“But you know the funny thing? You probably could be sorry, if you really wanted to,” said Sunset. “Believe me, I’ve been there. Getting that power is never as satisfying as you think it’ll be and it’s lonely at the top. Oh, you’ll say you don’t need anyone else, but you’ve told yourself that for so long you don’t know you’re lying anymore. But I know you can change, because I did it myself. Wanna talk about it?”

Sunset and Exterreri looked at each other for a long moment. Then he snickered. “Do you have any idea how sappy you sound?”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with sappy,” said Sunset. “Sap makes syrup. Don’t you like syrup?”

“But you… Pfeh. You’d never understand. I’m not going to get psychoanalyzed by some teen girl.” Exterreri spat on the ground between them.

At least, he tried. The spit vanished halfway down and Moondog reappeared at his side, holding a water bottle. “No! Bad villain!” Squirt. “Bad!”

Exterreri flinched and held up a hand to block the worst of water; it curved around in midair and hit him anyway. “Will you-”

Then another voice broke through, a voice belonging to nobody in the dream, a voice that sounded like it was on the other side of a thin wall. “BANZAI!” Rainbow Dash yelled.

With a sound like a whipcrack, Sunset was back in reality. She was sitting on the ground, slouched against a cold concrete wall. Groaning, she blinked blearily and looked up. Twilight was kneeling at her side and holding her hand. She breathed in sharply when she saw Sunset raise her head. “Sunset?” she asked quietly. “Are-”

“I’m fine,” Sunset grunted. She pushed herself up the wall, dragging her fingers across every single little divot in the concrete; they felt real enough. She ached, but at least that meant she was out of the illusion. “Exterreri-”

“Moondog told us,” Twilight said, squeezing Sunset’s hand. “Attacking you with illusions directly. Rainbow and Applejack-”

“I heard.” Sunset massaged her temples with her free hand. “I think they got to him in the real world; I heard Rainbow ready to punch his lights out.”

“They’ll be fine.” Twilight squeezed tighter.

“Definitely. How’re you doing, Moondog?”

Moondog’s groan was a little bit more staticky than usual. “Ow. My head. How can my head hurt when I don’t even have a head? That’s not fair.”

Sunset glanced at the battery readout. 92%. Huh. After Moondog’s energy dump, she’d been expecting a lot worse than that.

“But alright. GAOW, pain sucks. Gonna shut up for a while. Hurts to talk.”

“Do you feel up to walking?” Twilight asked. “Rainbow Dash and Applejack might need our help. I mean, it’s not likely, but-”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine.” Sunset took a few tentative steps. When her head didn’t start spinning, she upped her pace a little. Still no spinning. “Definitely fine. Let’s go.”

As they walked down the street, hand in hand, Twilight said, “You’re sure you’re fine? I don’t want to sound like a worrywart, but it was scary seeing you like that, Sunset. You kept looking right through me and saying things that didn’t make sense. You were so out of it, it was like you lost your mind. Moondog told me you were okay, but…” Shuddering, she squeezed Sunset’s hand. “Hearing you were okay while seeing you like that wasn’t totally reassuring.”

“Trust me, I’m fine,” Sunset said. Indeed, she didn’t have any headaches and the world wasn’t tipping over. “Would I lie to you?”

“Erm…”

Sunset stared. Twilight was suddenly unwilling to look her in the eye and was clicking her teeth together. “Twilight…” Sunset said in a low voice.

“In the right situation, maybe! Not necessarily now!”

“…Okay, you’re right, bad example. But I mean about something as serious as-”

Her phone buzzed. Acting on reflex, Sunset pulled it out and checked the caller ID: Rainbow Dash. “Hang on,” she said to Twilight, “I need to take this.” Praying neither Rainbow nor Applejack had been hurt, she picked up. “Rainbow Dash? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. So’s AJ. How about you?”

“Also fine. Twilight’s still with me and we’re heading over to you now.”

“Alright. So, uh. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Bad news.” You always started with the bad news. That way, you’d get the good news last and it’d not only lift your spirits from the bad news, it’d stick in your memory a bit better.

“Exterwhatever got away. He, uh, took me down-”

Applejack yelled something incomprehensible on the other end of the line. “I’ll tell them LATER!” Rainbow yelled back. “They don’t need to hear every little detail right now! Sheesh… Anyway, um, he took me down, ran to a car out back, and sped away. No clue where he went. Sorry.”

“As long as you’re both okay. And the good news?”

“Applejack wrestled the staff from him before he left. We’ve still got it.”

Sunset promptly broke into a sprint, dragging Twilight with her. “Wait there,” she said. “We’re coming.”

113 Hay Street was an old warehouse that, from the outside, looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. However, that clashed with the shiny new door that had obviously been put in recently and even more obviously been kicked in by a superstrong teenage girl even more recently. There was a set of skid marks in the parking lot, and Sunset swore she could smell the burning rubber. Neither Rainbow Dash nor Applejack were outside, so Twilight picked up a few stones to use as telekinetic missiles and entered the warehouse, Sunset close behind.

The room was mostly empty, and the places where it wasn’t were a mess. One of the corners looked like it’d been a primitive lab, with tables and laptops and all sorts of jury-rigged scientific equipment hooked up to a familiar sapphire. One of the tables was overturned and most of the equipment was laying on the floor, broken; Twilight gave a little squeak of distress. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were hanging out in one of the corners, Applejack examining the Caduceus (minus the crown sapphire), Rainbow massaging her head. Applejack looked up when she heard Sunset’s and Twilight’s footsteps. “Hey! Girls!” She waved the Caduceus. “Over here!”

Up close, Applejack was grimy but unhurt, while Rainbow was already sporting a large bruise on her face. As Twilight went to examine what equipment remained, Sunset crouched next to Rainbow. “I thought you said you were fine!” she gasped.

But Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I am, Mom. It’s just a bruise, not a broken nose.”

“You’re sure?” Sunset winced as she peered at the bruise. It was already a deep red that did not do Rainbow’s face any favors, and it’d only get worse over the day. “What’d you do, run into a wall?”

“Yep.”

Sunset and Twilight exchanged looks. “Um…”

“So Applejack kicks down the door like a boss,” Rainbow said in an embarrassed “let’s get it over with” tone, “and I run in and nail Exterreri like right in the jaw as he’s… astral projecting or something, he didn’t see me when he should’ve. I say a cool one-liner-”

“Rainbow, that quip wouldn’ta been cool in a detective show at the North Pole,” said Applejack.

“-but then he waves the staff,” Rainbow continued loudly, “and everything goes all weird. Illusions, you know? I super-speed up, try to get him, and totally miss. Bam! Right into the wall.” She pointed at a dent in said wall. “I’m gonna spend the rest of today just lying down. Probably all of tomorrow, too.” She prodded her bruise and flinched.

“You can start by not poking where you got hurt,” Sunset said.

“I didn’t see much after that,” said Rainbow. “By the time I got back up, Exterrari or Whatever’s running for the door, but Applejack has the staff.”

“Weren’t hard,” Applejack said, shrugging. “He was so focused on Rainbow that he didn’t see me. I tackled him, we wrestled a bit, and when I got the staff, he just cut and ran to his car. You’da thought there’d been a bonfire from the smoke he left.” She sighed and shook her head. “Didn’t have a chance o’ followin’ him, sorry.”

“That’s fine,” said Sunset. “You got the staff from him, and that’s all we wanted.” She cringed one last time at Rainbow’s bruise and stood up. “Find anything, Twilight?”

Twilight didn’t look up; she’d found a loose collection of notes and was poring over them. “This is all waveform analysis,” she said. “Oscilloscopes, spectrum analyzers, vectorscopes, sweep generators, function generators… Wow, I really need to brush up on my EM fields. He’s…” She skimmed through the pages quickly. “Okay, it looks like that jewel is the power source, but the wings on the Caduceus are the… projectors? They shape the illusions. But Exterreri reasoned that if it shaped illusions based on the user’s thoughts, then it ought to go back into someone else’s thoughts and he just needed to muck about with the waveform. That’s what all these machines are for: taking the magic from this gem and altering its frequency to give different effects. He even built an array to retune the magic once it’d left the Caduceus and change it into something else. That’s how he got into our dreams. It was…” She paused and slowly pointed at the wreckage around the broken table. “Right there.” She winced.

“Sorry,” muttered Rainbow.

“It’s okay, he sketched it all out.” Twilight’s voice was only slightly forced. “He was comprehensive, if nothing else. He recorded so much stuff that I could spend a week reading it all.” She pulled out a random sheet and began reading it. “If he wasn’t so petty, he could’ve done a lot of good with this work.”

“You could say that about a looot of supervillains,” said Rainbow. “Remember that one Spider-Mare pterodactyl dude with the gene-writing tech? Spidey said he could cure cancer with that, but he was all, ‘But I don’t want to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs.’”

“Bad example,” said Sunset. “Who here wouldn’t be okay with being a dinosaur?”

Nobody raised their hand.

“See?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Anyway, for someone who — I think — never encountered any magic before the Caduceus, this is pretty impressive. I don’t know if the other Twilight will be interested, but I’ll make copies to go back with her. And I might want some help getting all this stuff back to my house- Don’t look at me like that! Exterreri was using it for evil and do you know how expensive some of this stuff is? I’m doing it all a favor!”

Applejack raised a finger as if to say something, paused, and sighed. “I’ll see if’n I can borrow the truck once Big Mac’s through with it,” she said.

“What about the dude himself?” Rainbow asked. Wincing slightly, she managed to stand up. “Are we just gonna let him get away?”

“Where did he go?” asked Sunset. When Rainbow didn’t respond, she continued, “Letting him get away’s all we can do right now. But we’ve got the Caduceus and we’re ready for him if he tries anything else. It won’t be as bad as last week.”

“It better not,” mumbled Rainbow.

“That Moondog gal’s awfully quiet,” said Applejack. “Is she-?”

“Fine,” said Moondog. “Just achy and don’t have much to add to the conversation.” (Sunset checked the battery readout. 93%. Wow.) “I think you have everything under control.”

“Yeah.”

After a silent moment, Rainbow suddenly said, “I want a donut. I’m going back to Has Beans. Anybody who wants to come with is free to join me.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the warehouse.

As the group walked down the street, Twilight glanced over her shoulder and winced. “You think it’ll be okay?” she asked. “The equipment, I mean. There’s a lot of stuff there and I’m worried it won’t be there when we get back.”

Sunset squeezed Twilight’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. What, do you think there’s a biker gang driving around, looking for wave analysis equipment?”

“That’s the next post-apocalyptic craze,” Rainbow said immediately. “Math Max. Warbands of heavily-armed nerds roam the blasted landscape, pillaging every oscilloscope, voltmeter, and prism they can. And only the master of the slide rule can stop them-”

“Who uses slide rules anymore?” cut in Applejack.

“Post-apocalypse, remember? All the calculators and computers are busted.”

“And how’d they know how to make ’em?”

“Nerds, remember? I bet-”

Rainbow Dash and Applejack were walking at a faster pace than Sunset and Twilight; their voices petered out as they got further away. Twilight turned to Sunset, grinning sweetly. “So,” she said, “now that we’re done with the thing Moondog came over here for…” She took a long, deep breath. “Can​I​take​a​closer​look​at​Moondog?” She thumped herself on the chest and coughed. “I mean, she’s a computer, she’s got to be able to connect to another computer somehow, and I’m going to figure out that somehow.”

“Earlier, you tried and didn’t get anything.”

“Because I only had a minute to do anything and couldn’t get more complicated than the new-device wizard. Give me some time and access to a command line, and I know I can get Moondog talking to my laptop.”

“If all you wanted me to do was say something to it,” Moondog said wryly, “you just needed to ask. Don’t know what-”

“On an informational protocol level, obviously.”

Sunset wasn’t so sure what Twilight wanted really was possible, but she didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I guess. If Moondog’s okay with it.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Moondog. “But I was built with techniques that don’t exist in this world, so don’t expect to get anywhere in the process. I mean, why would you, you’re knocking yourself out… Why is that even a phrase, anyway?”

“Because language.” Twilight snatched the watch from Sunset. “We’ve got an entire day, you and me. I will unlock your computer-y secrets, no matter what it takes.”

“C’mon, please?” asked human Twilight, clutching the watch tightly and nearly shying away from the statue. “I just need a little more time, it went by so fast-”

“You had her for almost twelve hours!” protested pony Twilight.

“And twelve hours and ten minutes is a little more time than twelve hours!”

Twilight-P sighed and rubbed her head. “You know you’re talking to yourself, right? You and I both know that twelve hours and ten minutes will become twelve hours and twenty minutes will become twelve hours and forty minutes which la de dah. I’ve lost track how many times it’s happened to me.”

“Twilight, I practically had to drag you here,” said Sunset. “You need to let it go.”

“But artificial intelligeeeeeeence! I can’t just give up!”

“You worked on me the entire day,” said Moondog, “and didn’t get anywhere. You’re NOT ‘just’ giving up. It’s just not something you can do in this world. I really need to get back to Equestria.”

But Twilight wasn’t listening. Looking Twilight-P in the eye, she said, “You know how much I want to study this. You know how long I can keep this up. How long can you keep this up?”

Twilight-P folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Sure, I’m only a few moons away from being given control over an entire country, but yeah, maybe if a high schooler says ‘please’ enough, I’ll cave.”

“Please?” asked Twilight earnestly, proving she either nailed sarcasm or didn’t get it at all.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“NO! Moondog’s an agent of the Crown and-” Twilight-P blinked and looked to the watch. “Are you? Officially, I mean.”

“I think my legal status is still technically in limbo,” said Moondog. “Mom hasn’t done anything about it as far as I know, and the bureaucracy is probably like acid to me. We should probably do something about that before Mom abdicates.” A snort. “Can you imagine the Throne of Dreams going to someone who isn’t even an Equestrian citizen? Although if the children of citizens are citizens-”

“Either way, Moondog has a duty to Equestria and we can’t just leave her here for you to study. Don’t get me wrong, I understand completely. We still can’t do it.”

Sunset put a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Sorry, Twi. Maybe later we-”

“The book!” Twilight yelled, making everyone jump. “Moondog said you wrote a book about her. Can I at least read that?”

But for some reason, Twilight-P turned anxious at the thought of sharing books, of all things. She began playing with her hair and looked away, downcast. “Okay, that… It’s not that easy. See, it’s kinda… How do I put this…”

“You know me!” protested Twilight. “You are me! I’ll take good care of it.”

Twilight-P shook her head. “It’s not that, it’s- You have an electronic reader, right?”

“Something that lets me carry around dozens and dozens of books while still being smaller than a dinner plate? Why wouldn’t I?”

“I can load it onto there, but… it’ll take a while.”

“Why do you need me to use that?”

“It’s a single ebook,” Twilight said slowly, staring at her ereader’s screen, “and yet it takes up almost nine hundred megabytes.” A pause. “Nine hundred megabytes.” A longer pause. “Nine. HUNDRED. Mega. Bytes.” An even longer pause. “I’ve played video games that take up less space than that.” An even longer pause still. “Well, better get cracking!”