Retired Dream as Hot Mess Malewife
I think retired Dream / Morpheus would be the most useless malewife in history.
When Death drops him on Hob’s doorstep, the division of labour is pretty non-existent — he’s a former king in friendly exile, and he is very magnanimously allowing himself to be pampered by Hob. But after a while, he would try to help out with the chores when Hob is at work.
However, without being tapped into the Collective Unconscious, Dream’s ability to choose and critically evaluate his sources is… somewhat shaky.
Hob starts him out on a good note, leaving him with a few Marie Kondo books. Things go fairly well, even though Dream ends up colour-coding the wardrobe according to some colour system that human retinas can’t perceive.
But then Hob goes to a conference, and Dream insists that he is perfectly capable of caring for one cat and 20 overnurtured houseplants for five days. What could possibly go wrong?
Dream reads several books on housework, but he can’t seem to finish any tasks before getting derailed by the narrative, turning every chore into one of those endless blog essays you have to scroll through before getting to the damn recipe. Even the simple act of hoovering has to involve a long-winded story about getting out of an MLM scam, forgiving backstabbing siblings, and finding your inner goddess.
Everything escalates when Dream discovers housewife milf porn.
Hob gives up and gets a roomba.
Dream refuses to admit that he hates the roomba with a passion, and instead proceeds to Lady Macbeth-manipulate the cat into throwing up on the roomba until the motor breaks.
Hob throws in the towel altogether and pays for a cleaning service. Dream takes up yoga and comfortable day drinking.
All is well.
