The man sat in the office; the room illuminated by the full moon that peeked through the open curtains. He stared into space; his mind empty. He had long since forgotten what it meant to think for oneself, to have a will of one own. In a way, the man sitting at the desk was a living puppet, moving and acting to the will of the others around him.  Underneath the fancy clothes he wore, his body was brushed and battered, signs of the ‘punishment’ he received for going against people. Every day was a new demand and each day, the man would fulfill it. The man could not remember how the cycle started, for it seemed to exist for as long as he remembered. The man dreaded what each day would bring, what wish he would have to fulfill. He started to stay up later and stay awake in the office till exhaustion forced him to sleep. Though the man has forgotten to have a will, he has one desire; to escape the cycle he has been forced into. That was his only desire, the only thing he wished for himself though he knew he could never grant. He cannot speak his wish, should those around him punish the man for it.

The door of the study opened. A stranger walked in; the shadows of the room concealed the stranger’s face from the man. Who was he? the man thought before his eyes caught something shining in the moonlight. Within the stranger's hand was a dagger, the blade reflecting the moonlight.

At that moment, the man knew what was to happen. The man did not fear what was to happen. A sense of both resignation and peace washed over him, soon the pain would stop. Soon he shall be free. As the stranger's footsteps drew closer, the man only said, “Thank you.”

###

Donitelo shot up from his bed air escaped from his lungs faster than he could take in. The ratfolk struggled to breathe as he flailed his arms around. Donitelo could feel his heart nearly burst from his chest. The ratfolk reached for the chalice on the nightstand and drained it of the contents.

Donitelo brought the empty chalice to his lap. The drink has given him a moment to calm his nerves. The ratfolk’s heart slowed down and he was able to focus on what was in front of him. Anger filled him. “Those damn dreams,” Donitelo mutters, clutching the bedsheets. “I thought I would never have to see them again.” He slammed his fist into the bed, “FUCK!”

Donitelo hates those dreams. The dreams of that man and the life he had lived. Donitelo knew they were more than just dreams. He knew exactly what they were. Memories of something he would rather forget entirely. Each time they surfaced; it was as though a wound had been reopened.

Donitelo sat on his bed. He dreaded the idea of going back to sleep, fearing that he might see the dream again. As he looked out from the window, Donitelo saw that the sun had yet to break the horizon.  Donitelo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I guess I might as well get up.”

The Gallivant Vineyard was located outside of the city of Ontary. All who worked and lived on the vineyard were family, each a ratfolk with tiefling traits, each holding the last name of Ganter. In truth, the vineyard was a place to be rid of those from a specific noble family across the seas of those with traits that would bring shame to the family. None who call the place home seem to mind, as they were sent away even before they could walk and do not remember their parents. Besides grapes, the vineyard also has a distillery for making wine, which the entire family has a part in making.

As Donitelo walked into the washroom, he recoiled as something passed his eye.  The stuff he was carrying fell to the floor as he stared at the reflection in the mirror. It was him, Donitelo, but for that moment, he had forgotten who he was, what he looked like. He believed that he was the man within the dreams, and that filled Donitelo with great shame.

Donitelo gathered his stuff and placed it on the countertop. The ratfolk looked into the eyes of his reflection. “I am Donitelo Ganter,” he said, picking up the brush. “I am Donitelo Ganter,” he repeated, brushing his fur. Over and over, while preparing for the day, he would repeat the same phrase, “I am Donitelo Ganter.” In a way, it helped him distance himself from the dreams and that man. He was no longer the man in the dreams. He was Donitelo Ganter. That was who he is now and that is what made him happy. With each utterance of the phase, the memories seemed to go farther and farther away.

As Donitelo finished filing his horns, Leonard walked into the washrooms. Leonard was the oldest ratfolk here, with Donitelo's understanding that they were actual brothers. Leonard ran the place, both the farm and distillery. While they looked similar, Leonard is much older, with a few spots in his fur going grey, which sticks out with how black his fur is supposed to be. His horns also curved around his ears like one would see on a ram. Leonard looked at Donitelo with amazement and shock, “well, surprised to see you up before the sun,” Leonard said, placing his stuff beside Donitelo’s.

“It happens,” Donitelo answered, cleaning off the file.

“Not on days you supposedly have a day off work. You pretty much sleep in till noon, Donny.”

“Well hard to sleep through a nightmare.” Donitelo looked at his reflection. The reflection in the mirror didn’t look like it belonged to another. It was his reflection. It was who he was looking back at him.

“Was that why you were saying that mantra earlier?”

Donitelo paused and looked at Leonard, “you heard?”

The older ratfolk looked puzzled, “Yeah, you've pretty much done it since you were a child. Every time you saw your reflection in something, you would always say that mantra a few times before going on like nothing happened. You stopped as you got older so I assumed you just grew out of that habit.” Leonard lathered up his hands with soap and applied it to his fur.

“Oh uh…sorry about that.”

“It's fine. I didn’t see any harm in letting you do it when you were younger. Though, I did ask you why you did that when you were younger and you said ‘so I can be me.’ is it still the case?”

“Maybe.”

Leonard rinsed out the soap, “So do you mind telling me what that means?”

Donitelo didn’t respond. He had never really spoken about what these dreams were with anyone. In truth, a part of him wanted to avoid the topic altogether. Let the memories fade and put it out of his mind till the next time the memories get dragged up again. The same song and dance he had done for years. Maybe it was time to change it. Donitelo looked at his brother, “Have you ever had dreams, that made you forget who you were?”

Leonard paused, “in what way?”

“Like, when you wake, you have trouble telling what was real and what is the dream.”

Leonard thought about it. “Maybe once or twice.”

“I have been dealing with those dreams for years,” Donitelo confessed, “ever since I could remember, I have been dealing with dreams like that. I would forget who I am, living the life of someone else till I wake up. These dreams felt so real that sometimes I would wonder if I was the dream or if the dreams were real. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. As time went on, I figured that the real me, or the one that existed, was Donitelo Ganter. But I need to convince myself of that.” Donitelo touched the mirror, the reflection fingers touching his own, “so I started to repeat that mantra. I would repeat my name as many times as it would take to convince myself that I was the real one. Soon, I stopped having those dreams and I was happy. No more doubts about who I was. And I was happy, for a time.”

Leonard reached over and pulled Donitelo towards him, embracing his younger brother. “did you have those dreams tonight?”

“Yeah. Maybe once in a while, they come back, then I start feeling doubtful and well, you see what I do. Just remind myself I am the real one. That I’m Donitelo.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? This had nothing to do with you.”

“No, it's just. I had no idea you were dealing with it for this long. I wish I could have done more.”

“What did you expect? I was a kid; I couldn’t have explained it well enough for you to understand. There was nothing you could do. No wait, you actually did help me.”

“Huh?”

Donitelo stepped away from his brother, “You just being in my life. comforting me. holding me when I am scared or confused. Teaching me stuff. You, well, made this feel real to me. so, thank you.”

Leonard was stunned. His eyes started to water, “Donny, I-“

“Whoa hey,” Donitelo grabbed a washcloth and held it to Leonard, “I didn’t mean to make you cry there.”

“It's fine, I just got soap in my eye, that’s all.”

Donitelo glared at his brother, “is that all?”

“yes, that is all,” Leonard said, dabbing away the tears.

Donitelo wasn’t buying it but figured it was better to leave it as is. “hey, how about I make us some coffee this morning?”

“You sure?”

“it's fine. The talk made me think I should probably do more stuff around here anyway. You know, as thanks for being my brother and all. After all, I am Donitelo Ganter.”