Hushed Willows [m] i hit a wall

The black hole that was Hypnos, with his dizzying ability to suck up all of time and space around him, floated eighteen feet above the earth, suspended as a storm cloud. He watched the goings-on of his home with a godly indifference; or, that's how it felt as he drifted between a hazy sleeplessness and the forced dreaming brought on by a brain that demanded a rest from time to time.

He rolled out across a blackened and starless sky (sprawling and asleep and pawing the grass, dappled by fading sunlight) and as he sucked in a breath that altered the texture of the sky (snored loudly enough to wake himself) there was a flash and a rumble—

The urge to urinate flooded Hypnos as he startled awake, and he was half-standing, then on his feet as twilight silhouetted his stooped figure. The boy didn't have a strong mind-body connection so, a few moments after the sensation snapped him awake he had forgotten about it. He was dopey-eyed and confused, as per usual.

I was doing something. Hypnos murmurs to nobody in particular. He had been standing right? Running? His heart raced. The dream of himself was gone—but there was a scent on the wind like freshly baked apple pie, and drew him in to an exploratory lope with his nose up.