"George, can I tell you a story? Well, you're being all quiet I'll tell it anyway, I think you'll really like it.
You see, I've spent a lot of my time traveling these lands. I've battled every creature, seen every animal known to man, every biome on this earthly plane and the nether itself. This land, it's my home, you know everything the light touches is ours right my love?
-Tut tut, no questions yet my dear.
Now, I'd like to tell you about my favorite bird. These birds are elusive, took me years to catch a glimpse of one, but my god Georgie you should've heard it's song. Have you ever heard of a nightingale my love? Yes? Well then I suppose you should know about their beauty.
Nightingales are known for their song, the most beautiful melody known to man and god alike. They're these small thrushes with brown plumage, and when you befriend one they follow you; dancing and singing in the sky as you trek through the plains. Magnificent right?
Now, you'd think my favorite bird would be an eagle or a hawk, but I have always been fond of the small brown nightingale; I suppose I see you in it my dear. Your laugh more melodious than any song I've heard, you dance in the sunlight and frolic in the plains as we travel this world. I suppose I'd be forever happy to have you chirping by my side.
I love the nightingale the way I love you, forever you hold a special place in my heart."
Dream sighed with contendedness, glancing at George who still had a frown on his face. But the brunet spoke up,
"Dream, I know about nightingales too. The personification of freedom? Known to die when trapped in cages. If I am to be your nightingale, please Dre- my, my love. Let me out."
George walked to the front of his cell, bruised hands clasping the metal bars as he stared into the eyes of his captor.
"Georgie you forget, the Nightgale is endangered, is a cage so bad if it keeps my precious little bird safe?" Dream approached the cell with a wistful smile on his lips. He reached to touch George's hands through the bars but the captive slunk back to the edge of the cell, giving Dream a look of disgust to hide the terror in his eyes.
"We will try again tomorrow my little nightingale, I do wish you'd sing for me my love," Voice dripping with adoration Dream slipped on his mask before locking the prison up behind him.
George's knees buckled as he fell the ground, head in hands he began to sob, the only sound louder than his cries were that of the few birds chirping outside the prison walls, flaunting their freedom to the caged bird himself.
"Nightingale: A small European thrush with drab brownish plumage, noted for the rich melodious song of the male. Lifespan in the wild 9-12 years. In captivity 3-5. Nightingales are often used as symbolism for freedom, prosperity, innocence, and life."