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Clovis knew all about dreams. The first time he had found himself lucid dreaming he had been four years old, and he had slipped into his mother’s dreams; a dream of picnicing on the clouds with Clovis and his father, Hypnos, and he has only gotten better since. People often came to Clovis to ask him to help with their problems.
Their romantic problems
Clovis wasn’t a romantic in the slightest; why have romance when you could sleep was his philosophy of life. He never really noticed people like that, and it never bothered him. He wasn’t a fan of all that stuff.
Others though? They seemed convinced that he was this romance expert. He wasn’t Freud for Hypnos’ sake, please don’t come to him with your sex questions.
“Psst, Clovis. Am I doing this right?”
Clovis glanced around his dreamscape, an identical version of his cabin. Outside the window was a girl with stringy brown hair plaited down her back, with flowers weaved through.
Clovis flicked his wrist and the door flung open. “Miranda.”
“Oh thank the gods this worked,” Miranda skipped inside, plopping herself on the ground by Clovis' recliner. “I’ve been trying to find your dream for weeks.”
“Well, you're here now,” Clovis sighed. He knew what was going to be asked of him. It was always the same thing. However, it was still courtesy to ask. “What brings you here?”
Even in a dream, Miranda’s face darkened to a shade of beetroot. “You can get into anyone’s dreams, right?”
“Right,” Clovis agreed.
“And you can manipulate them too?”
Clovis snapped and a flower at the end of her braid wilted and fell. “I can.”
“So, Sherman?”
“You want me to make Sherman dream of you?”
If possible Miranda’s face got redder. “Well, I’ve been trying to drop hints to him to take me on a picnic for our next date….”
Clovis sighed, standing up. Even in his dreams, his back cracked in at least ten different places. “Leave it to me.”
Miranda placed a chaste kiss on Clovis’ cheek. “Thank you!”
Clovis waited until she was gone to wipe his cheek.
When Clovis entered Sherman Yang’s dream, he found himself at the Camp Half-Blood arena. Instead of the stereotypical dummies, full sized Percy Jacksons were erect in the corner of the hall, eerily still. Sherman was hacking at one of the Percies, yelling obscenities and a few different variations of “Take that!”
Clovis was almost scared to interrupt. Luckily, he didn’t need to. After decapitating a Percy in one foul swoop, he turned in the direction of Clovis. “Clovis?”
“Sherman.”
Sherman picked up the Percy head and brushed its hair with his fingers before setting it upright on the bleachers. Clovis noticed at least a dozen more Percy heads there.
“Do you need something?”
Clovis shrugged. “Well, I was just talking to Miranda….”
Sherman nearly dropped his sword. “Huh? What were you talking to my girlfriend about?”
“Loads of things,” Clovis said dismissively. “Flowers, picnics, dates.”
Sherman frowned. “Dates?”
“And flowers and picnics,” Clovis repeated. “You know, if I was into guys, or girls for that matter, I’d love them to take me on a nice date in the strawberry fields, specifically with a picnic.”
“You would?” Sherman mumbled. “I think Miranda would like that.”
Clovis shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Well, I better leave you to decapitate some more Percy Jacksons. See you, Sherman.”
Sherman awkwardly waved as Clovis went back to his own dreamscape. For someone so oblivious to romance, he sure was a good matchmaker in his opinion.