Dream a Little Dream: A Tale of Myth and Moonshine

by Piers Anthony

  “Well, let’s go. I can’t wait to see Kafka!” Nola hesitated. “Just one thing, though. How do we get there?”

  “You know, I’m not quite sure, but legend says that there are portholes from your world to ours called beds,” he said with one cute eyebrow raised.

  As a come-on, this was too clumsy to be believed. He figured on a transporting experience in bed with her? “What do you mean?”

  “I have a spell that works when a person is in a sleeping place, like a bed or a couch.”

  Nola’s suspicion returned. He was trying to get her into bed! “Are you hitting on me?”

  Mich was baffled. “I would never hit you!”

  She laughed, realizing that he didn’t know the idiom. “You mean sleep, as in losing consciousness? Dreaming?”

  “Yes, of course. Only we don’t dream in Kafka. We know that phenomenon only by description. It must be interesting.”

  “And such sleep, with or without dreaming, along with your spell, will take us to Kafka? Just like that?”

  “Yes, it’s supposed to.” He smiled. “All it takes is a little moonlight and a lot of faith.”

  Nola was beginning to like Mich despite herself. She still didn’t believe a word he said, but she was curious about him. And the truth was, she wouldn’t mind getting into bed with him, even if he was a fake. Since her true dream man couldn’t exist, the next best thing was the image of her dream man. But she would make him work a bit harder before letting him score, on general principles. “Would you care to join me at the hotel for a bite to eat?”

  “I’d love that. I’m starved. Will you be cooking?”

  “No. We’11 be eating at the restaurant.”

  “Rest room? You eat there?”

  She laughed again. “Restaurant. It’s a place where they serve food.”

  “Oh, a kitchen.”

  He was good! “Call it a dining room. You do have those, don’t you?”

  “Darn,” he swore. “I was hoping to see you doing woman’s work.”

  Nola shot him a dark stare.

  He threw up his hands, smiling. “Just kidding! I’m sorry, that was in bad taste. I would never ask a Creator to be a mere woman.”

  “A what?” she asked sharply.

  “A woman.”

  That had not been what she meant, but she decided to let it go for now. She had fashioned her dream man to have a certain quaint naivete, and so it was consistent for him not to understand what was objectionable about the qualification “mere.” Nola forced a laugh. “You have a terrible sense of humor! Where’d you get it?” she asked, smiling wryly.

  “I was created with it. It disgusts Snort, not to mention my father. They say the River of Thought must have been polluted when I emerged.”

  Nola studied him a moment, deciding not to challenge that. He would be stared at in the clothes he was wearing. She'd have to take him by one of the souvenir shops on the boardwalk and buy him something better to wear. It would force her to use the credit card, but that was okay. “First, I’d like to get you some clothes. People here don’t dress that way.”

  Mich looked down at himself. His clothes were pretty ragged as it was. He could use some new ones. “Very well.”

  One problem remained. “But what’ll I do with Esprit? They don’t allow horses in my hotel.”

  “He can’t talk to you,” Mich said, “but he can understand you. Maybe you can tell him to stay here on the beach, if you think it’s safe enough and if he stays out of sight.”

  Nola turned to her black friend. Before she could say a word, he tossed his head, turned tail and galloped off down the beach. He headed away from the hotels and streets.

  “He read my thoughts!” Nola said, believing it just a little.

  Mich took Nola’s bag and chair from her hands and carried them for her. She led him for a whole mile down the beach before they were in sight of the boardwalk.

  Mich was constantly stared at. Teenagers pointed and adults laughed. Nola was glad to see that it didn’t affect him. He held his head high and ignored them. It was possible that he didn’t even realize that he was the object of their ridicule.

  They entered one of the stores. Nola found a pair of black swim trunks and a surfer T-shirt. “These look like your size,” she said.

  Mich stared at them. “Are you sure those are proper?”

  “For the beach? Of course, but I wouldn’t wear them in the city. Go ahead and try them on.”

  She directed him into a little stall with mirrors all over its walls. It was interesting, being able to see his backside, even the back of his head. He would have to suggest such a mirror chamber to his father. He closed the door and removed his torn clothing and dressed in the strange new clothes. He stepped out of the stall and faced Nola.

  “Well,” she said. “You look brighter! With that gorgeous black hair and five o’clock shadow, you look exactly like a surfer! All except for that sword. Well, that can’t be helped.”

  Nola paid for the clothes with John’s credit card, and they walked down the boardwalk to her hotel. It was quite small, compared with most of the others, but the room was nice, with two double beds and cable TV.

  Nola made the mistake of turning on the TV. Mich was instantly hooked. “A magic mirror of a strange and marvelous new kind! But how does it answer questions?”

  “You don’t question it,” she said wryly. “You just sit like a vegetable and watch it until your mind rots.”

  Mich covered his eyes. “Evil magic! I didn’t know.”

  “Humor,” she said quickly. “It won’t hurt you immediately. That takes days or weeks.”

  Relieved, he watched for over an hour. Every ten seconds, he'd say, “Wow, look at this!” or “What is that?” When he was silent for a while, she got suspicious. Sure enough, it was a feature showing buxom young women in scant costumes. She had better do something about that.

  He was horrified when she flipped to the news. She had to explain about guns, crime, war and poverty. He was morbidly fascinated by the images and concepts.

  “Why is your world so destructive of itself? How can a man shoot another man and not care? How can a mother leave a newborn child in a garbage can? Why do people not share their food when they see someone who’s starving? Why does your world need so many weapons that they could blow the whole thing up? Who would win a war like that?” he asked, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the television.

  Nola just shook her head. “No one. I wish I knew why all these things happened. If you asked those who committed the atrocities, they would have a reason, but I don’t think you’d understand it. I don’t understand it, and I’m pretty low on the scale of human decency.”

  “But you’re a Creator!” he protested.

  There was that term again. She didn’t trust it, so she didn’t address it. “There are some good things about the real world. Unfortunately the process of growing up strips children of their innocence, until they become as bad as the rest. You’re better off not understanding.”

  Mich looked at her with an almost hurt expression. “No, I wouldn’t understand. There’s no reason for stealing someone’s life from them and there is no reason I would understand why a mother would abandon a helpless child. I don’t mean to offend you, but I don’t much like your world.”

  “Me either,” Nola mumbled.

  Mich heard her. “You were raised here. Did you ever witness anything like that yourself?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “I don’t see why you seem so sad all the time. Is it all this destruction? That would make me sad. Maybe if you never turned on the magic mirror, so as not to be assaulted by its horrors, you would be happier.”

  “I wish it were that easy.” Nola had tried her best not to think of John, or of her family, while on her vacation, but Mich kept dredging up memories. Perhaps if she told him it would make her feel better. No. It was best to keep her hard-learned lesson in the forefront of her mind. Mich seemed too good to be tr
ue, therefore must be false. To trust him would be to invite disaster.

  Instead, she forced a smile. “Let’s go eat.”

  They sat in the restaurant and talked. When the food was served, Mich seemed a little reluctant to eat it. Nola found it difficult not to fall for his tricks. He acted as if he had never eaten in his life, and did it well. He liked the chicken, but not the green beans. He had a slab of cheesecake for dessert and ate every crumb. “This is a fine establishment,” he remarked. “But how is it that we are permitted to enjoy it without being introduced to the lord of the house?”

  She kept a straight face. “He’s busy elsewhere right now, having many important matters to attend to. He told me it was all right to eat here during his absence, provided I behave discreetly.”

  Mich nodded, satisfied. She had spoken his language.

  When they finished the meal, Mich questioned her about everything. Even why she handed the server a piece of green paper. She had a hard time trying to describe how money was transferred for services and products. She explained that each piece of paper was backed up by a promise of gold. He asked why gold wasn’t used instead of paper. The best answer she could come up with was that gold was heavy and people preferred to carry the lighter bills. After all, even she didn’t know everything.

  Back in the room, they watched more TV. Mich started spinning stories of his childhood. He explained that he was only eighteen when he was born. Nola found that funny, but also found it to be a strange coincidence. Considering that she didn’t begin dreaming of Mich until she was sixteen. She dreamed of Mich as being eighteen.

  They fell asleep. Nola never thought to mention the magic spell that was supposed to enable them to visit Kafka. She had mixed feelings when he did not even try to make a move on her. He was peculiarly diffident, being both friendly and respectful. She didn’t understand it, but found she liked it. Respect had never been large in her life.

  Then, the next morning, Mich explained how the act of sleeping caused him a little discomfort. He insisted that he did not dream.

  Nola loved dreams and knew a lot about them. It was a fact that all people experienced REM sleep, rapid eye movement, with the eyes closed. During REM, a person dreamed, whether or not she wanted to. Everyone dreamed. Maybe Mich just hadn’t experienced REM. Perhaps he was just nervous. He would sleep tomorrow.

  She had planned to go home today, but Mich’s presence changed her plans. She also couldn’t leave Spirit. So she did what she had to do, and used the borrowed credit card to extend her stay. How she would ever make good on the debt she was accumulating she didn’t know; every time she borrowed the card before she kept a close eye on the credit balance and didn’t run up more on the card than she could pay off within a month, so as not to incur the ruinous interest rate, not to mention incurring the wrath of her abusive boyfriend. But she had no choice now.

  They spent the next three days together, talking. They went to the beach often to visit Spirit. Nola would bring him food and ride him for a while. That was a glorious experience. She and Mich would race him on foot down the beach, only to trip and fall in the water, laughing.

  The fifth day, they went back to the beach. Spirit was there, waiting for them. He knelt in the sand and tossed his head, indicating that Nola should get on his back. She grabbed a handful of his mane and pulled herself up.

  She looked down at Mich. He was staring up at her, smiling broadly. She noticed that he looked rather pale.

  She had a flashback from one of her dreams. She suddenly discovered a way to settle her indecision about Mich. In her dreams, Nola would often see people who admired Spirit and would try to steal him or would ask for a ride. Every time she offered a ride, Spirit would buck and kick and sometimes bite them. Once, she remembered, she was on Spirit’s back while he flew below a cliff. A friend of hers had jumped from it, trying to commit suicide. Nola turned him around and tried to maneuver beneath her falling friend. Spirit turned away at the last moment and her friend fell to her death. The only person who could ride Spirit, besides herself, was Mich. Spirit would often fly Nola to his bedroom window in the castle and always let Mich ride.

  “Why didn’t I think of this before?” she blurted out.

  Spirit stiffened beneath her. That was not a good sign. She stretched a hand toward Mich and gestured for him to mount up behind her.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Come on. You want me to believe you, don’t you? This’ll prove it. If you are really who you claim to be, then he will not hurt you.”

  “What assurance do I have of that? I don’t know him!”

  “You trust me, don’t you? If you are not lying, then he won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  “Of course I trust you!” He reached up to take her hand.

  Spirit flared his nostrils and tossed his head, but Mich did not let go. He pulled himself up and sat behind Nola. Nola sat still a moment, waiting for a response. There was none. Then, Spirit took off down the beach. Mich threw his arms around Nola to keep from falling off. They galloped on and on, until the beach came dangerously close to a housing area. Then they returned to the private part of the beach and dismounted.

  Later that night, Nola discussed what had happened with Mich. Mich was disappointed to learn that Nola still had strong doubts. While they rode Spirit, she seemed very happy and sure. But as they walked home, she seemed more and more distant.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Mich awoke in an ice-cold sweat. He complained that he was terribly tired and he couldn’t get comfortable in bed. He got out of bed, shaking and walking back and forth.

  Nola finally believed him in one thing: he had not been sleeping. Not the way she did. And he still hadn’t come on to her. He never tried to join her in bed in the night. What was with him?

  “Please, Nola, come back to Kafka with me. I will not leave without you! If I stay here, I’ll die. Let me use the spell now.”

  Nola felt very sorry for him. Even though he was crazy, he was in real pain. What harm would it do to humor him?

  “Okay. Use it. Take me with you.”

  “Oh, thank you, Nola!”

  “Don’t mention it. Say, don’t you have to be in bed with me?” Maybe now he would make his play.

  “No, I’m a Kafkian. The spell will find both me and Spirit. Only you need to be on the bed. Here is the spell.”

  He handed her a globe about the size of a baseball. She wasn’t sure where he had hidden it all this time. It looked as if it was made of glass. It was warm to the touch and there was light coming from it.

  “What do I do with it?”

  “Just think of your dreams, that only you can dream, and wish you were in them. That’s it.”

  That seemed easy enough. Nola loved thinking about her dreams. That was her problem: her dreams were so much better than the dismal real world she endured.

  Suddenly, there was light everywhere. Then a hole appeared over her and another hole over Mich. They hung in the air like a black piece of paper suspended by a string.

  “Reach up to it!” he said. “Climb in!”

  She did. Then she believed.

  Meanwhile, in Kafka, Heat and Snort waited. They waited all day, then through the next day as well. They waited and waited. They waited by the river for five days, growing more and more worried. If Prince Michael didn’t return on the next day, all would be lost. And there was nothing they could do to help.

  On the sixth day, they were joined by one of the palace guardsmen. He explained to Heat that King Edward had sent him to find his son. It had been ten days since his departure from the castle and Mich should have returned on the sixth day. Strange things were going on at the castle and everyone was worried about Mich. But Heat had no answer. He feared the worst.

  They waited all through the morning. At noon the guard sent Snort downriver to do some fishing in the rapids. He brought back three large fish and cooked them for himself and the guard. Heat cropped the dry grasses. He didn’t enjoy it,
but he was hungry and there wasn’t much else here to eat.

  Then the long vigil abruptly ended. Three figures emerged from the water, just before sundown, striding to the bank. Mich had arrived with Spirit and a young girl. Heat knew immediately that she was the Creator despite her ordinary appearance, while Snort was doubtful.

  Mich made introductions. Nola was afraid of Snort at first, but her curiosity overcame her fear and it seemed that they would get along quite well. Heat was very friendly toward her. She was his Creator also; that was why he had recognized her. Yet she was also a new girl who seemed very glassy-eyed and did not speak much at first.

  They spent the night camped well inside the Forest of Imagination, away from troll territory. Mich went into more detail about the Fren and Reility. He had no idea why the Fren would dam off the River of Thought, but they had to be stopped. And, gradually, Nola came to feel, if not at home, at least present in Kafka. At first she had seemed, even to herself, to be not quite real here, but now that was changing.

  Nola tried her best to understand and comprehend what Mich was telling her, but she still felt as if this weren’t really happening to her. It wasn’t until very late that evening that her belief strengthened enough to eliminate her sensation of disorientation. She had thought Mich was crazy, or a clever impostor who had somehow learned of her secret dream; now she knew that he was her real dream man.

  Nola was tired but could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned and even tried counting sheep, but nothing worked. She curled up next to Spirit and still could not drift off.

  She was surprised to see Spirit in his dream form. He was so beautiful and noble-looking. Somehow in her initial confusion she had not picked up on that. He was no longer a beautiful horse, he was a unisus—a winged unicorn. A completely magical creature, now as real as she was, in this realm.

  Is something wrong, my friend? thought Esprit in a deep resonate voice. Your mind seems troubled.

  “I’m not sure; I just can’t get to sleep,” she whispered.