Dream a Little Dream: A Tale of Myth and Moonshine

by Piers Anthony

  She put her spindly, callused hand on his. Mich wished he hadn’t come here. She took his chin in her hand and turned his face toward hers.

  Oh, no, here it comes. Mich got ready to pull away, as politely as possible, but she shocked him by not trying to kiss him. She only studied him.

  “I know you have no personal interest in me, you dear boy,” she said. “I’m tired of trying to trick you.”

  Mich sat back on the cushions and breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re a nice person. Just a bit—mature for me.” He hoped that would please her instead of annoying her.

  “I do know why you have come here. Kafka needs your help more than you know. So I will have to help you, though one aspect of it sorely grieves me. My dear boy, you are about to discover romance, and not with me.”

  That was not entirely reassuring. “I don’t know where to find a human, let alone a human who has the ability to destroy dream-stone,” Mich said. “And I don’t know anything about romance.”

  “That’s obvious. Do you know your Creator?” Madrid’s eyes were sharp and piercing.

  “Of course! The River of Thought. Everyone comes from there.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But where does it flow from?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  She sighed. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to start at the beginning.”

  She positioned herself better on the cushions and folded her hands in her lap. “In the earliest years, the land surrounding the River of Thought was quite normal, with trees, grass, rocks, birds and sky. One day, a great dragon appeared. His name was Kafka. He was an immortal creature.

  “He was the son of a greater dragon, along with his brother. Kafka’s father was cruel to him. His father had absolute power over his family, and Kafka often felt low and cowardly in the presence of his father. He lived like a slave under his father’s cruel hand. Kafka had always searched for something to make him happy. He never found happiness in his life, yet he found it in his imagination.

  “As the years passed, he became bored with his situation and more and more curious about his growing world. He longed for escape. Kafka had a special power apart from his family. His imagination, coupled with his ability to write, was so strong that when he wished it, his stories became real. So, he invented Kafka. A place of dreams rather than nightmares. An escape from the nightmares he suffered. He gifted his new world to its neighbor, Earth. Earth was facing self-destruction, and without escape for its people, Earth would die. He understood this need and provided the cure, so long as Earth’s people had faith.

  “He was the ruler of Kafka for many years. And with each year, the land of the river grew larger. He explored every new border and every new territory. He is gone now, killed by the Fren that pollute the land, but he left behind Kafka, the land of dragons and dreams.”

  Mich was perplexed. “What does this have to do with humans?”

  “I’m getting to that!” she snapped, as if annoyed by his shallowness. “Now, Kafka himself sprang from the river. The river was always there. It was there before the land and sky. The river is, indeed, a river of thought. However, these are sleeping thoughts; dreams, if you will. Human dreams.”

  Mich’s confusion grew. What was she getting at?

  “Sometimes there are births. When an Earthling human believes so strongly in a living, nonliving or otherwise fantastic creature that he sees in his dreams, that creature is born from the river. These Earthlings are called Creators. If the Creator of the creature ceases to believe or forgets, then the creature will no longer exist and it will be as if he had never been.” Madrid took a deep breath.

  “So the humans are the source of the river!”

  “Yes and no. They provide its waters, but exactly where the waters flow into Kafka is unknown. Now, there are very few humans who can create or destroy dreamstone. Your Creator is one of them. If you can find the human, and get to where the physical river flows into Kafka, to find the dam, then we will have a fighting chance.”

  “Where is the source and where can I find him?”

  She spread her hands. “No one knows how to locate the source. Not even me, and it’s her, not him. I will tell you how to find her in a moment.” She got up and poured a little more stock into the simmering pot. Then she walked over to the desk. “Come here, Mich, I want to show you something.”

  She ran one long, red, curled fingernail along the contents page of the huge text on the desk. She flipped through the quill-written pages. “There,” she said.

  Mich’s eyes followed the bony finger to the nail tip, which was gouged into a painting on the page. “That’s her,” Madrid said.

  Mich couldn’t believe his eyes. She was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. She looked to be three or four years younger than he. She had long red hair and intense, slate-blue eyes.

  “She’s my Creator?” he asked.

  “Yes. Her name is Nola Rollins.”

  “She’s so striking,” Mich said, half to himself.

  Madrid ignored his drooling. “When you find her, she may not be so eager to cooperate with you.” She closed the book and walked over to the simmering kettle to stir it.

  “But if she believes in me so much, why would she even hesitate?” he asked.

  “Because, though she is one of the few true dreamers left, she still lives in a world of reality and she may not believe that you are really who you say you are.”

  Mich heard a noise, and turned around to see the shape of a unisus standing outside the open door. That was odd, because he hadn’t summoned his friend. Was something wrong?

  The sorceress nodded, evidently aware of something he didn’t know about. “You must convince her, and not just because you will love her. So, to help you with that, all you have to do is show her this.”

  Madrid gestured to the door, and as Mich approached, he could see that the unisus wasn’t Heat. It was Spirit.

  He was a huge beast. He was not taller than Heat, but he was broader and definitely more muscular. His wings were each two lengths his own body size. It looked very awkward and unbalanced, but he stood as if his wings weighed nothing.

  He reminded Mich a little of himself. Spirit’s eyes were the exact shade of green as his own and his hide was glossy black, the same as Mich’s hair. There was an air about him, something intangible but powerful. Around his neck was a thin strap of leather bearing a silver crosslet with a tiny pallid, blue dreamstone. The pendant was lightly engraved with a Crosshatch pattern and was over an inch in diameter. It was a meager speck of glitter against the great black chest.

  “That is what you must show her,” Madrid said.

  “You mean the pendant?”

  “No, idiot! I mean the unisus.” She paused, then added: “But that’s not a bad idea. Take him with you.”

  “But how can we survive in her world if we are only dreams to her?”

  “Oh, all these petty problems! Must I do everything myself?”

  “But—”

  “Oh, very well!” Madrid flicked her fingers and mumbled some indecipherable phrases. “There, now you will be protected from her reality for the period of one week. That is the most any Kafkian can survive there, even with magic. I must warn you, stay longer and you will cease to exist, no matter how much she believes in you. In her world, you can die and you cannot be brought back.” She flashed a grim smile. “Please take care that you do not exceed that week.”

  Mich had no idea about death, or what it was like to die, but he knew that he didn’t want it to happen to him. It was probably worse than being Forgotten.

  “Now it’s time for dinner,” Madrid said briskly. Mich realized with a shock that much of the day had passed, in what had seemed like half an hour.

  He was hungry, and the soup was very good. There was a certain magical ambience about it. The more of it he ate, the less repulsive the sorceress looked, and the more pleasant her words sounded. At another time he might have wondered about that.r />
  It was getting dark outside when their conversation dwindled, and Mich began to long for a good night’s rest. Madrid did insist that he spend the night, and after stuffing him full of soup, she left him to rest on the cushions.

  “I thought you would try to get me into your bed,” he remarked dazedly. She now looked young, slender and lovely.

  “You may never appreciate how great a sacrifice I am making for the good of Kafka,” she murmured sadly. “I must leave you chaste, lest your Creator be repulsed. But if there is ever another time, be assured I will show you this.” She opened her gown to reveal a truly stunning bosom.

  Truly stunned, Mich knew no more.

  In the morning, her beauty faded, Madrid told him how to reach the world of the Creators and the nonphysical source of the River of Thought. He had only to lie down in the shallows of the river and fall asleep.

  “That seems too easy,” he said.

  “Neither dreams nor reality care what is easy or hard,” she said. “Only what is appropriate. Remember that.”

  She took the cross off Spirit’s neck and wrapped it in a swatch of black silk and gave it to Mich. He tied it tightly to his belt so that it wouldn’t be lost.

  Then he called Heat from the stable. The unisus whinnied with excitement when he saw Spirit and galloped over. The two unisi reared in a mock fighting match. It was obvious that they were happy to see each other. Apparently Spirit had not checked the stable the day before.

  Mich turned to the sorceress. “Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly. He had never been good at such social requirements.

  She grimaced. “I could think of a better way to express it than that. Don’t you at least owe me a kiss?”

  “I guess I do,” he agreed reluctantly. He knew she was making it possible for him to try to save Kafka, so he shouldn’t begrudge her that much in return.

  She spread her arms. “Then do it, you handsome hunk.”

  Mich nerved himself and took her in his arms. Her body was surprisingly supple. Suddenly she looked exactly as she had the night before, the most exquisite creature he could imagine. It turned out to be easy to kiss her.

  After a while she drew away. “I made myself an oath I wouldn’t vamp you, this time,” she murmured. “Go, before I forget it.” Her hand touched the décolletage of her robe as if barely restrained from ripping it open. “At least now you suspect what you’ve been missing.”

  He did indeed. He turned away, afraid that if he didn’t he would tear open that robe himself. She laughed, satisfied.

  Mich, Heat and Spirit flew back down the mountain. Snort was waiting for them and they trotted eastward toward the river, just as if there had been nothing special during the past day and night. Snort even had the grace not to sniff too obviously at the scent of the sorceress’s perfume, which clung to Mich.

  “Where did you go after you were rejected by the group, Spirit?” Mich asked.

  There was no response from the huge beast. He just kept pace with Heat and ignored any talk that was directed at him.

  “I wonder what’s up with that unisus,” Mich muttered. “Is he deaf?” he thought privately to Heat.

  I don’t know, his mind is closed, but I can feel that he has some hostility toward us. Perhaps he is just nervous about the journey.

  “I hope that’s it.” Mich decided he shouldn’t push the issue. Spirit might be dangerous. He didn’t try to talk to the black unisus again.

  Meanwhile their journey continued. He hoped that they would arrive at the river before nightfall. The dangers of the night were worse than the dangers of the day.

  Nola had just finished her household chores and was ready to go to the beach, when Kudo knocked over one of her favorite plants. Clods of moist dirt spilled over onto the carpet. Nola’s face reddened.

  “Bad cat! Bad, bad, bad!” she yelled. The cat scooted under the sofa and cowered while Nola vacuumed up the mess. She loved that cat, but sometimes Kudo got on her last nerve. If John decided to come home and found the mess, he would throw Kudo out the window and probably slap Nola for it.

  She thought about her trip today. She wondered what had possessed her to go to the beach anyway. She never liked to go alone, so she never went anywhere. She had no friends. Except for Lori. Nola had known her for three years. She was the kind of person one wouldn’t want to associate with on the first meeting, but she did have her points. Nola had not been to see her in several weeks. Oh, well; it was not as if Lori would miss her. No one would.

  Nola’s mother lived in the apartment building down the block from hers, but she could never get her mother to do anything with her. Nola just turned into a blob of flesh after doing the chores.

  Most often she would go right to sleep. She loved to sleep because sleep brought dreams. That was another reason she wished to die. She could sleep and never wake up. She could live in her dreams forever, except that as far as she knew, dead people didn’t dream. Everyone had strange dreams but Nola knew that hers were really unusual.

  Her dreams were different each night, but she dreamed of Spirit and Mich every time she closed her eyes. Mich was her true love. He would slay demons for her and she would make him happy, in her fashion, in return.

  Every now and then Mich would be astride a nightmare that looked just like Spirit in every way except color. This other stallion was purest white, and instead of green, its eyes were like two huge silver ball bearings. When they were side by side, they looked like light and shadow.

  Kudo crawled from under the sofa and didn’t even glance at Nola. She trotted over to the window and jumped into the sill. Nola walked over and patted her.

  “Well, Kudo, I hope for your sake that our apartment isn’t torn up when I get home. I’m going to the beach now.” She paused, then added, “Come to think of it, I hope I don’t get torn up when I get home. Well, John’s never come home on his own before, so why would he now?” She scratched Kudo between the ears and Kudo turned her head, hissed and bit at her.

  Nola knew that Kudo was not by any stretch an affectionate cat, but Kudo would never intentionally hurt her. She had come to accept Kudo’s strange way of acknowledging her love. A nibble and scratch meant “I love you” and a hiss meant “please pet me.”

  At one-thirty Nola was ready, and left for the bus station. It was a long walk and the trip was costing her, but she wanted so much to go. Even alone.

  Once on the bus, she sat and stared morosely out the window, watching the trees and houses go by. She tried to convince herself that she would have the best time ever. She would shop, swim, relax and eat, but most of all, sleep and have fun.

  Nola’s mind’s eye did a double take. This is fun? she thought. What was she doing? It would be fun if she was with two or three friends, but she wasn’t.

  Then she got that funny feeling again, thanks to Esprit, that everything would be great. Esprit would want her to go. He ‘d say that everything would be great.

  The first thing Nola did after the four-hour bus ride was check into a hotel and eat. After dinner, she figured she ‘d have just enough time for a swim and then she could watch the sunset. She grabbed her beach bag and sketch pad and headed off to the beach.

  Tina woke from a dream of horror. She was shivering and sweating simultaneously. Probably she needed another fix. But the dream seemed like something else.

  She tried to focus on it, but it was already fading. All she caught was something about a monstrous worm. A gigantic underground worm named Kras.

  Did that make any sense at all? She doubted it, yet the dream had seemed so real.

  But what was the point in thinking about a stupid dream? It was her life she had to be concerned about, though that was collapsing. In fact there didn’t seem to be much point in waking or dreaming.

  Mich and his friends reached the River of Thought at sunset. This was the fourth time that Mich had visited the river and it looked more lovely each time he saw it.

  The river looked like a liquid rainbow that had been
slightly stirred. There were so many colors, and yet there were none. If he looked too closely for too long, the water would run clear in the spot at which he was staring, then recolor itself as his eyes moved to another spot. It was quite possible for one to sit for days at a time just watching the river, but Mich had no time for that now. He stepped forward, leading Spirit.

  “Halt, obtrude!” cried a frail voice. A mermaid floated to the surface of the river, astride a hippocampus. She brushed back her wet blond hair with one hand and threatened with her trident in the other. Once her face was clear of hair and water she opened her eyes and stared. The fish-tailed horse bobbed up and down with the motion of his hooves and tail.

  “Obtrude?” Mich asked, admiring her bare upper torso. “Do you mean ‘intruder’? In any event, I hope I’m not one.”

  “Oh, my!” she gasped, putting her hand across her lips. Her gills fluttered nervously. “Please, Prince, you must forgive me!”

  Mich saw how embarrassed she was. He tried to make her feel at ease. “It’s all right; you were only doing your job.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I did not know it was you. My side of the river was attacked not too long ago by the evil Fren. Reility put a potion in the water that forces my comrades and me to breathe air. I thought we could ambush him if we pretended that his pollution trick didn’t work and we hid under water, but we become weak if we stay under too long.” She was crying now. Mich could see others coming to the surface and gasping for breath.

  The mermaids were commissioned to guard the river, and they were very well equipped for the job. Unless their power to breathe water was taken away.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll try to find a cure for the spell if you will let me lie in the water.”

  “Your Highness, you know we cannot let you touch the water. We are immune to its intoxication but it can be very dangerous for you.” She looked distraught. She held her trident pointed at him.