Dream a Little Dream: A Tale of Myth and Moonshine

by Piers Anthony

  “My father sent me. My mission is too important to let you stall me. Madrid of Mangor instructed me to lie down in the river and I must do it. Snort!” he called. “Help the mermaids to back off.”

  Snort moved forward, licking his teeth.

  The mermaid dropped her trident and threw up her hands to cover her face. “No! Do not harm me, good basilisk. I am sorry, Your Highness. I was only doing the job I was told to do, but I cannot harm you. You may lie in the water.”

  “I couldn’t hurt you either.” Mich smiled and stepped out into the gentle current.

  “Thank you,” he said, and bid the mermaids and his friends farewell.

  Return soon, Michael, Heat thought, nervously stamping a foot.

  We must bring Nola here and return her to her home safely, Spirit thought.

  This was the first time Mich had felt Spirit’s voice in his mind. Spirit’s thought was forceful and demanding, yet there was a wonderful fondness in his deep voice when he thought her name.

  Mich bowed his head to the mermaids and knelt in the water. Heat and Snort walked into the forest.

  Mich felt the strangeness of the water as he leaned back into it. The liquid was tepid and soothed his body. He could feel the water as it slowly sucked away his conscious mind. He was suddenly surrounded by every hope and dream he could imagine. Never seeing them, only feeling them in different degrees of urgency, like different temperatures and textures. Then he could feel nothing at all. There was only a peaceful ambience. Similar to when he rested at night, only much deeper, as if his soul had slipped away for a moment.

  Something changed.

  When he opened his eyes again, he could see nothing but silver and blue. He started to take a breath, but discovered his mouth filling with a salty fluid. His face was now under water and he couldn’t breathe. The soft, rounded stones that were supporting his body in the shallow water of the riverbank were no longer there. He felt himself sinking.

  He kicked his powerful legs and moved his arms frantically, trying to swim. His face broke the surface and he quickly inhaled, sucking in some of the briny water. He continued to struggle, and managed to get another breath.

  This wasn’t at all what he thought would happen. He thought that he would have a dream. No Kafkian ever slept deeply enough to dream. Maybe this was a nightmare, but it sure didn’t feel like one. It was way too physical.

  His lungs started to ache for oxygen and he could feel panic sweep through his body. He tried to calm himself, but that was almost impossible while drowning.

  On his third attempt to breathe, he missed the surface and swallowed another pint of salt water. He was unable even to choke.

  This was no nightmare. He was going to die.

  The beach wasn’t very crowded, and Nola was glad of it. No one would disturb her daydreaming.

  She opened her sketch pad and started drawing her favorite subjects. She drew the young man she had seen so many times in her dreams, Mich. The one she made up from her imagination. She had tried so hard and waited so long to find someone to meet her ideals of what a man should be, but she never found him. So in desperation she decided she could have anyone she wanted, even though he could exist only in her mind.

  Naturally she crafted him well. He was handsome and muscular with long, thick, black hair and grass-green eyes. He was a prince (of course) and enjoyed riding Heat, Spirit’s white counterpart. He loved music. He had a pet dragon that he played with in much the same way she played with her cat. In fact, maybe Snort was based on Kudo, making him more of a basilisk. Animals could be ugly or bad tempered and still be loved. If only that were the case with people! In the dream land Mich loved her unconditionally, but to make him seem more real, she gave him human flaws.

  Sometimes he had a corny sense of humor, and he tended to be overly dramatic when he was bored or bothered. He was inexperienced in certain things like grim adventure or romantic love, so tended to make foolish mistakes that got him into trouble on either front. Just like most men, he enjoyed a good white lie. But he would never lie to deceive or hurt her. For example, he might tell her she looked lovely, when she knew she did not. To Nola, he was just perfect, including his imperfections. It didn’t matter that he lived only in her mind. The way she looked at it, it just made her love and long for him more each day. Deep down, she knew he wasn’t real, but she didn’t care. To think of him made her happy, and why not be happy if she could be?

  She also drew a picture of her best friend, Esprit. His eyes were the same shade as Mich’s. Nola could read his thoughts and emotions as well as he could read hers. She would often have imaginary conversations with him. She knew that it was silly do this sort of thing, but she didn’t care. Her life had gotten so hard to live that this piece of fantasy was the only thing that helped her face reality. There were many other fantastic people and places she dreamed of, but Spirit and Mich were the first and they entered her mind most often.

  She finished the picture in her usual way, by drawing a little cross in the bottom right corner. Each of its four arms were equal in length with arrow-shaped ends. She had made up the cross one day to symbolize her faith in God and the wonderful gift of imagination that he bestowed upon her, and she always drew it on her pictures as a thank you.

  As she sketched it, she felt a jolt in her spine as if someone were trying to push her out of her beach chair.

  That was not part of the usual way. What had happened? She was sure it meant something. Because the jolt really hadn’t been physical, but emotional.

  She poked her pencil into the sand and cast a glance across the waves. The water was fairly placid and pretty. Nothing unusual there. Or was there?

  She peered more intently. About halfway between the horizon and the shore, she saw something sparkling. At first she thought it was a bird diving into the surf for a fish.

  She squinted her eyes and shielded them from the sun. She saw that it was not a bird, but a person, and whoever it was seemed to be in trouble. She thought it was probably a kid playing a joke, so she just watched. But something about it compelled her attention; she felt what was, for want of a better term, a spiritual connection. Whatever was happening was important to her in some vital way.

  The person went down once, then twice and did not come up a third time. That was no joke! She felt almost as if she were drawing herself: Nola threw down her sketch pad and ran toward the sea. She dived in with such speed and grace that she mirrored a leaping dolphin.

  This was one thing she was proud of. She could outswim anyone she knew and could hold her breath for almost two minutes. She ducked below the surface and stroked with all her might, slowly expelling the spent air in her lungs as she swam. She could swim more quickly below the surface because she didn’t have to deal with the waves splashing her face. She did not swim as quickly as she did when she was in a pool, but she reached the drowning victim as he was sinking below.

  She slid her arm under one of his arms, across his chest, and pulled him to the surface. She tried to swim to shore. He seemed to have blacked out. This was a kind of blessing for Nola. She knew that if he were awake he could panic and make it very difficult for her to be heroic.

  Though it was summer, the water was chilly and Nola’s muscles and joints found it hard to work right. She didn’t want to pause, because the man would need immediate attention, but it would do nobody any good if she wore herself out and went under too.

  Just as she was about to stop and rest, her feet came down on sand and she managed to pull the stranger to shore. She lay him down on the sand. His long hair was plastered across his face. She was surprised to see that he looked very handsome and very familiar. But this was not the time to reflect on that. She hastily cleared her wandering thoughts and kneeled over him. His lips and eyelids were beginning to turn purple and his face was turning blue. She emptied his mouth of water and proceeded to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She pushed on his chest with her hands.

  Finally, the stranger st
arted vomiting copious amounts of salt water and coughing harshly. His face turned from blue to bright red. He sat up with his eyes squinted tightly shut and coughed for several minutes. Then he sat silent for a moment looking in his lap and wiping the water away from his face.

  Nola pushed his straggled hair away from his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine now.” The stranger looked up at Nola with his big green eyes.

  Nola’s hand snapped from the stranger’s head to her mouth and she gasped hard, sucking in air between her fingers, making a hissing sound. “Oohh, myyy God . . .”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Nola tried to hold back another hurricanelike gasp. Could this actually be happening? He looked so much like him. It was amazing! “No, it can’t be,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my life. You are—?”

  “Nola,” she replied with her mouth still covered.

  The stranger stood up. “Oh, it’s you! I wasn’t sure, you’re so much more beautiful than the pic—” He evidently realized he was rambling. “Please forgive me. Thank you so much for saving me.” He extended his hand and Nola accepted it. “My name is Michael, but I am known by my friends as Mich. I knew I was supposed to arrive near you, because the magic binds us to each other, but I didn’t realize that you would have to rescue me from deep water!”

  He paused, startled, as Nola fell into him. He caught her and held her in his lap while he tried to revive her. There wasn’t much else he could do.

  A few moments later she opened her eyes and looked up. She startled him again by suddenly bolting up and away from him.

  “I am sorry,” he called after her. “I did not mean to affront you. You fell into me, and I—I apologize. You saved me from the water, and—”

  Realizing that the last thing she wanted was a public scene, she composed herself quickly. “Excuse me,” she said, dusting herself off. “You are very welcome for the help, but I have to go now. I would suggest that you see a doctor before you go home.” Nola walked over to her beach chair and began gathering her things.

  “A doctor? What’s that? “

  Nola began to walk off. She knew she had to get out of here before succumbing to this craziness. It was just a silly coincidence of names and appearance. It had to be.

  “Don’t you recognize me, Nola?”

  “Of course not! I’ve never met you before! How could I recognize you?” She stuffed her towel into her bag and folded her chair.

  Where was Spirit? Mich prayed he hadn’t drowned. Right now, he had to convince her before she fled. How could he do that, when she seemed determined to go?

  He started to worry. This wasn’t working out at all. How could he satisfy her to who he was? She had already gathered up her belongings and was turning to go.

  Then he remembered the cross on its leather strap, tied to his

  belt. He walked over to her and gently took her arm. He put the cross in her hand. “Then, do you recognize this?”

  Nola looked at the cross. It was about one and a half inches wide and the same in length. It was silver and looked very old. Every detail from her drawings was there, down to the star sapphire in its center.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked. There was a hint of anger in her voice.

  He was startled by her snappishness. “It was a gift from a friend of mine, but it really belongs to you and your unisus,” Mich replied.

  Nola paused a moment and studied Mich’s face. The faint light of recognition flickered behind her eyes. She looked back at the cross. “You mean that this is from—Spirit?” Nola felt suddenly sad and then terribly happy. Did she dare believe? Or was someone playing a really cruel prank on her? If so, they had certainly found a way to score. Her eyes started to blur with wetness.

  “Yes,” Mich said.

  Nola clutched the cross in her fist and grabbed Mich’s shoulder. “Where did you get this?” she asked in a savage tone. “Is this some kind of vicious joke? Who are you?”

  Mich sighed. And tried to tell her again who he was.

  Nola studied him, looking for proof. She avoided looking directly into his eyes again, for fear she would not want to look away. He just seemed too good to be true.

  For she knew, through experience, that everything that seemed too good to be true was just that. Not once did she have something that made her happy forever. It was always a day or two, then it would disappear, crushing her inside. It took her a long time to learn her lesson, but she did learn. She trusted no one. Even though her heart begged her to believe, she knew that when she let her heart lead her, it led her into suicide.

  “I’m sorry, but I just cannot accept all this. I must be going insane! I must be seeing things. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Nola started to walk down the beach. Even though this man was calling her name in such a pleading tone as to be begging, she walked without looking back. She was very confused and didn’t know what to do. Maybe she was just seeing things. In fact, she was sure that she was just tired and overworked. After a long nap, this would all be over.

  Nola was about to turn onto the road when she heard a great commotion behind her. There was the sound of something heavy splashing in the water, then a sound similar to thunder. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, turned around and opened her eyes again.

  There, running toward her, was a huge black horse. He was galloping at such a great speed that he stirred up a sand storm in his wake. His tail flew behind him like a silk banner. His hide was deepest pitch and his gaze didn’t waver from Nola. His eyes were black, but glowed like stars in the night sky. Then the huge beast stopped on a dime, his nose only a foot from her nose.

  Nola felt no need to look twice at him. It really was her nightmare, minus the wings and horn, but she knew it was him. Her resistance to belief was crumbling. If this was insanity, then let it come!

  Spirit arched his graceful black neck and gently rubbed the palm of her hand with his nose. She stroked his long muzzle and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Where have you been?” she sobbed. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined!”

  Mich approached cautiously. “He can’t talk with you here; it’s not our world,” he explained. “He’s just an ordinary horse here.”

  “Well, I want to talk to him. And what do you mean he’s ordinary here?” Nola took hold of Esprit’s mane and walked toward Mich. Spirit followed her and it seemed perfectly natural that they should be together. Mich wondered why she accepted Spirit so readily, yet did not accept him.

  Now she noticed how strangely he was dressed. His clothes were very unusual. It looked as if some of them had been washed away. He wore a pair of dirty, tan-colored trousers that had been torn around the ankles. He also wore a belt and sheath with the hilt of a sword exposed. His bronze chest was partially covered by a dark blue shirt. The shirt was badly torn down the front, but looked as if it had once been held together by laces. He looked almost medieval.

  This couldn’t be happening! She pinched herself. “Ouch!” Then she got serious. “What happened to you?” she asked Mich. “Did you get in a fight or something?”

  “No,” he replied. “I’m trendsetting. You like it?” He did a sarcastic little half turn.

  Nola smiled. There was that sense of humor. “As a matter of fact, it is very sexy,” she teased. She could see that she had embarrassed him because his ears were turning red. That was typical of her dream man too.

  Nola tried to make herself believe that this was not really Mich, but he resembled her dream in every way. She had no choice: it was Mich.

  Yet if this really was Mich, then he should know everything about her; but he seemed to know very little. However, she could see a muted passion in his eyes when he looked at her. If this was all real, then all her dreams were real. What a wonderful thing that would be, if she could really believe it.

  She had to accept it,
at least for now. This was really happening; she was not dreaming. If she wasn’t going crazy.

  Despite the feeling she had welling up inside her right now, she remained highly nervous. After all this time, all this searching, and all this dreaming and wishing . . .

  Mich told Nola why he had come and how she was the only one who could help save Kafka from being destroyed by the Fren. Nola listened, but remained unsure. She wished she could believe he was telling the truth. How wonderful it would be to live in a world where her dreams were reality. But this was utter foolishness. There would never be such a place. It was a fantasy and nothing more. But she would humor him and herself for a while. After all, how could she resist the man who so resembled the love she longed for?

  “We should start right away,” he concluded. “Is there anything you need to bring?”

  She laughed, accepting it for the moment. “Nothing but you and Esprit.”

  “Who is Esprit?”

  “Oh, that’s just a little nickname I gave Spirit here. He likes it.”

  Mich’s brow wrinkled. He glanced at the horse, who nodded. “One question.”

  “Yes?” This suspension of disbelief was fun, as long as she didn’t take it too seriously.

  “Why is it that you accept Spirit without question, yet you have so much trouble believing in me?”

  Nola was afraid she had hurt his feelings. She tried to explain without doing so again. “Spirit isn’t human. It’s not in his power to cause me pain. I’ve never met a horse I didn’t like. I’ve met many humans with blacker hearts than Spirit’s coat. Do you understand? It’s nothing against you.”

  He did not seem quite satisfied. “If you wouldn’t mind, please tell me what happened to cause you so much distrust of people.”

  “I can’t. I barely know you! Don’t take it the wrong way. I am very grateful to you for bringing me my dream, but I’d like to leave my sordid life out of this. At least for now.”

  Mich suddenly felt guilty for pressing her. “Of course. I can respect that.”