Dream Engine

The Soldier stood not as a flawless paragon but as a profoundly human, profoundly fractured soul—a man who had danced precariously with death more times than could be counted and yet pressed onward, a survivor among the fallen. This figure, at once extraordinary and deeply flawed, reflected humanity’s own struggle with the unknown, embodying resilience amid imperfection. Tales spun of him—some fanciful, others rooted in whispered conversations about extraterrestrial life—served as attempts to fathom that which lies beyond human grasp, confronting fears within our limited understanding. Years before, I became the so-called Dream Catcher, tasked with gathering thoughts and emotions that might unravel others’ sanity. A treatment meant to ease my grief dulled my spirit instead, leaving me calm but distant, like a stone within a flowing stream—ever present, yet untouched. I aspired to awaken from this numbness, to live fully within the dreams I caught, stirring ripples of change. Moments of clarity came in sketches, fleeting memories of companions lost to time, their faces blurred yet persistent in my mind’s eye. My beloved, tender and insightful, endeavored to shepherd me toward connection and future hope, despite barriers physical and mental. For years I served in shadow and light—an unseen guardian wielding digital commands as weapons, striving to uphold a mission greater than myself, navigating a world where the line between human and machine, known and unknown, forever blurred.