He startled, his eyes flashing open and swiftly pierced by a lazy shaft of sunlight filtering through the treetops. The man's senses went to work at incredible speeds; where was he, when was it, how did he get here? In a few moments, the excitement died down as he realized the answers. He had fallen asleep in the forest as he was often prone to, the sounds of a picturesque stream bubbling along and the wind rollicking through the trees, offering a respite of white noise for his ever thoughtful mind.

He had that dream again, one of those dreams that you can't really share with other people without being cast as a lunatic. It wasn't just the same dream, but a series of dreams that always seemed related, as if he was seeing the same world through someone, or something else's eyes. The world was so similar, yet so starkly different from what he knew, almost like returning to an old haunt many years down the road.

In this world, this unrelenting tide of dreams that always returned to him, he was an arctic fox. Sometimes he was a fox of his own world, the four legged feral beast widely despised as a pest yet still lauded for its stealth and unparalleled rustic beauty. No words were spoken, yet the feelings of the fox's senses overwhelmed him every time; the scents of the forests and fields, the feeling of the ground underneath dexterous paws, the heart-stopping excitement of the chase, the litheness of being a compact predator. It struck him as a marvelous paradox for the fox to stand out so, yet blend in so easily whenever they chose. These dreams exhilarated him, and gave the man a rush like no other experience in his life.

Soon these dreams gave way to another kind of fox, a kind of fantastical proportions that one might find in books meant for children. He could talk, he had a name, and he lived a life as a human would. He looked as a human standing on two paws, but was still a fox through and through with a luxurious pelt of fur just as fine as his feral counterpart. He wore similar clothes to the man, and even seemed to share similar tastes in food, so strong was the shared experience of the senses.

In this latest dream he became the fox in the fox's world. The man became awash with the feeling that in some way, both were distinct entities, yet the same in the grand scheme of things. The fox sat nestled into a whispering sand dune, the ocean a stone's throw away or two with the tide inching toward him ever so deliberately. After what felt like much time passing, the fox picked up a piece of canvas and a brush, and began painting the colors of the world which he was blessed to witness. The colors blended, ignoring the form from which they originated and meshing together to eventually become a brazen, imperfect perspective of the world. Despite the imperfections, the colors spoke of a story so rich and passionate that no outlined form or words could hold it within any sort of reasonable boundaries. Satisfied, the fox signed his name slowly and put the piece aside, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sounds of an ebbing tide, the salty breeze coursing through his snowy white fur.

The man thought deeply about what these dreams could possibly mean. He had his own life and identity, sure, but not one he felt any attachment to since it felt so incomplete. After all that had happened, it dawned on him that he felt as himself and the fox were one. They shared the same passions and seemed to enjoy the same places to visit, but still lived a very different life, one that the man could only hope to live himself. He decided to draw inspiration from his dreams to become a different person, a better being. The fox's signature on the painting suddenly stood out with startling clarity.

"My name is Rory, huh?" the man questioned quietly, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes once again, hoping to be swiftly whisked back to another, now familiar world where it seemed he controlled next to nothing, yet was somehow entirely his.

Artists from top left, clockwise: x 3, , Aishagdfjkl, Gloria Pike, Naomy, Unworthy, Naomy. All art (c) their owners and myself for my character.