Who: Athena and Morpheus What: Inviting Athena in. When: Tuesday night Where: A dream of Morpheus' home
There was nothing that made Morpheus feel he should do something he didn’t intend to do already. He’d always been open to the suggestion of family, or the will of Zeus, but beyond those ties, nothing else kept him to the code most people lived by. He lived where the rules of the waking world were pointless and useless. They meant only as much as the dreamers who entered his realm thought they did, and even then, rules were easily broken.
None of this meant that Morpheus was ignorant, completely, of certain ways of doing things, of how to act. It only meant that when he invited Athena to join him in return for her invitation to dinner, he did so because it was what he really wanted. There was, however, a slight hitch, and that was the fact that Morpheus had no one place to call home in his own world. He had places he favoured, of course, but home was back in his bed among the poppies an eternity away. All he had in the waking world was a pale imitation of that couch of dreams.
The solution, Morpheus had decided, was to invite Athena to his home in her world. Far as it was from what he’d had, it was still all he had to call his own in that world. He had also decided, however, to invite her to it in a dream. It was all the same, down to the curtains, the rug, the water globe Phobos had brought him.
It was his home, it was where his bed was and he slept away the days, but in a dream, he could talk to her, stay focused.
When he knew she was falling, he made sure she did so into the right place. Thinking she might prefer to be invited in, he left her in front of a door. Just a door. His door.