Dream a Little Dream: A Tale of Myth and Moonshine

by Piers Anthony

  Spirit grinned in an obscure, humanlike way, bearing his large white teeth. Of course not, he thought, it is impossible to truly sleep in Kafka, for that might lead to dreaming. Unless, of course, you are in the waters of the River of Thought. Even then you don’t actually sleep. You merely relax and tune out consciousness for a time.

  Nola wasn’t certain of the distinction, but decided to stop worrying about sleep. “What is the River of Thought, exactly?”

  It is the source of all life in Kafka. Its waters are formed by all the dreams of humankind. Every drop is a separate hope, wish or fantasy. It is composed mostly of children’s dreams. Not many children are Creators. They are taught from the beginning that imaginary people and animals and monsters are not real. Nor will they ever be real. A child is taught that it is wrong to believe in fantasy and dreams. A child’s dreams last only through childhood, then reality steps in and deals them a fatal blow. You, however, are a very special case. You continue to believe in me.

  “I could never bring myself to stop believing in you. You are my friend and I love you.” She put her hand on Spirit’s neck and smiled. “But what about you and Mich and others like you who have been here a long time?”

  There are some like us here, but we are few. We remain here because of the small handful of people like you, who retain their dreams throughout their lives.

  “What happens to you when I die?”

  We are not quite certain, but legend says that if you believe until the end, that your dreams are carried with you wherever you go and that you live within them for eternity.

  “Why is it you never spoke to me before I came here?”

  In your world, my body and mind are rendered null. I turn into an ordinary horse. That is the way of it for us unisi.

  “Oh.”

  Dawn is coming up. You should prepare.

  “Prepare for what?”

  So many questions! To deal with the Fren, of course! Now I will help you to find something to tide you over until the other guards come with new clothes and rations.

  They got up. Nola felt refreshed despite not actually sleeping. But she resolved that the next night she spent here, she would tune out consciousness and see if it wasn’t actually pretty close to what she called sleep. It might be just a matter of definition.

  Esprit found a small luberry bush. It was covered with white berries. Nola, hesitant, accepted Spirit’s reassurance and ate half of them. They were unlike any fruit she had ever eaten. They were about the size and shape of large cherries. Their flavor was a mixture of blueberries and peaches. The thin skins were very sweet while the centers were very tart, and each contained a small, pale pink pit. She picked some more and put them on a clump of grass next to Mich.

  Mich was resting peacefully. He opened his eyes as she knelt down. He saw Nola leaning over him. She was wiping a smudge from his face.

  He noticed she was still wearing her semi-translucent undergarment that she had called a “nightie.” Her pale skin looked as soft as cream and her reddish-brown tresses fell forward, almost into his face. He wished he could kiss her, but dared not. He wasn’t sure if she would react positively to that. He had been excruciatingly careful about that while in the real world, lest he offend her and lose everything. She was, after all, not merely a pretty woman; she was his Creator. He decided it would be better to play it cool for a while longer. However, it was hard to be cool with Nola’s half-naked body so close to him.

  “Good morning, Nola,” he said, sitting up and stretching. “I hope you weren’t too cold last night.” If only he could have warmed her by wrapping his arms around her!

  Until now Nola wasn’t consciously aware that she was still wearing her little white nightie. She had been showing entirely too much flesh where it was tight, and possibly even more where it wasn’t tight. It was too late to even try to blush, so she ignored the embarrassment. “Spirit kept me warm last night. So, when do we get started?”

  “Soon,” Mich said, stretching and flexing his gorgeous muscles. Nola averted her stare. If only the big hunk had shown even a little urge to grab her! But he remained as indifferent as a brother to a sister. “First we must wait for my father’s guards to bring us clothes and food.”

  Nola thought it best not to make any more inquiries on the subject. This was his world, and he knew its conventions far better than she did. Certainly she was scantily clothed.

  “You are beautiful,” he said, looking intently at her in the gentle dawning rays of the sun. “You are very brave to uproot your life and come to another world with me, a stranger. Beautiful not just on the outside.”

  Nola tried to run her hand through her hair, but it was hopelessly tangled. There was a white lie for sure! Regardless, she could not hold back her blush this time.

  She was, however, able to come back with a brilliant retort. “Ditto,” she said.

  Mich looked blank.

  Nola felt herself compelled to lean forward and kiss him. Then she met his gaze. Once again she found herself locked in Mich’s sparkling eyes. She wanted to stay that way forever! But she somehow found the strength to turn away.

  She stood up and walked over to Spirit, who was gingerly plucking the last of the luberries from the bush with his dexterous equine lips. Meanwhile, Mich gulped down the berries that Nola had left for him. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

  The group was startled by the sound of something running through the forest. It was one of the king’s guards. He was waving a piece of parchment in the air.

  “Sire! We have found you!” The guard tripped and fell at Mich’s feet. Nola managed to stifle her giggle as Mich reached to help him up.

  “What’s going on?” Mich asked. “Is my father okay?”

  “No, sire, he’s gone! We have searched since you left. We sent Misty up the mountain to see Madrid.”

  Mich held back his alarm and tried to settle himself. He thought he had seen Misty last night but couldn’t figure out why the little graveyard ghost would be out in the forest, especially at night. Misty was terrified of the dark.

  “Did Madrid know his whereabouts?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “No, sir. Madrid gave this to Misty and told her to give it to you. She was with us, but she disappeared only a few moments ago. Something is terribly wrong.”

  Mich took the paper from the guard. “It seems to be an instruction and a map. It says at the bottom here that by the time I get this she will be gone. What is going on here?”

  At that moment, another guard came jogging through the woods. The guard stopped a few yards away and leaned against a tree. He was short, fat and sweaty, and he was panting roughly. Strapped across his shoulder was a large satchel.

  “Why [pant] must you always [pant] run so fast [pant], Marcus?” he demanded.

  “Come on, you dolt,” Marcus retorted. “Bring the Prince’s clothes!”

  The guard stumbled forward and threw the satchel down. “That thing is heavier than that sow you were with last weekend! Hello, Derek!” he said, waving to the guard who arrived the night before.

  Marcus turned and cuffed his friend on the side of the head. “Enough! I should have fired you long ago! Now unpack their things so they can get on with this.”

  Nola couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t want to hurt their feelings so tried to cover up by helping them remove the clothing. Her hilarity turned to awe as she removed the dress that was meant for her.

  It was beautiful. It was made of red velvet and delicately embroidered with gold thread. The cuffs reminded her of the cuffs of a wedding gown, but were more intricate. There was a bright yellow sash that hung from each of the sleeves. Nola had never seen anything like it. She also found a hair brush and four golden hair combs.

  “Forgive me for the dress, unsuitable as it is, but we were in quite a rush,” the fat guard said. “Quickly now, Lady Nola, you must dress and be on your way.”

  Nola went behind a dense clump of saplings and dressed. She had a difficult
time tying the bodice in the back. It was very tight and smashed her breasts almost flat, causing them to peek out over the top. She tried to loosen it but there was a gap in the back. She exhaled and tightened the strings. Now her breathing was labored, and every time she inhaled her breasts swelled dangerously above, not wanting to be bound. This was definitely not her notion of fit apparel for forest travel!

  She brushed out her hair and piled it, piece by piece, on top of her head, fastening it with the combs. “Okay, I’m ready now,” she said as she stepped from behind the tree. “Where do we go?”

  The two guards guffawed and the fat one whistled. Marcus slapped the back of his friend’s head again. “Don’t be a jerk!”

  Mich walked over to her and took her hand. “You look exquisite, Nola,” he said, his eyes seeming to track her every breath. But perhaps that was just her fond imagination.

  Nola was also stunned by Mich. His hair was now brushed and shone as brightly as Esprit’s hide, his face was clean and his clothes were neat. He looked like the knights she had read about in her fairy tale novels. “So do you,” she said, blushing.

  “If you please, sir,” Marcus said, “Kafka is falling as we speak.”

  “Uh, yes,” Mich agreed, hauling his eyes from Nola’s décolletage. “We better get going now. Madrid drew a little map on this paper that will lead us to the river’s source.” He looked up. “Do you know where my father went?”

  “No, sir. It appears that he has been abducted, but there are no signs of violence.”

  Mich was highly disturbed about his father’s disappearance but didn’t let it show. He would have to be in command now. In his father’s absence, he would be responsible for Kafka’s welfare. He hated to admit it, but his father would have to wait. Kafka’s survival was far more important. He hoped that his father had not been Forgotten.

  “I’m sure he is fine,” he said insincerely. “We will have to search for him later. Let’s go. Thank you for your service, guards. Return to the castle, and if you find her, send Misty to inform me with news of my father upon his return.”

  “Will do, Highness!” Marcus said. His chubby friend was staring at Nola and seemed not to comprehend that they were to depart. Marcus pinched him, hard, on the shoulder. “Come on, you moron!” he said impatiently. They disappeared into the forest.

  Nola allowed herself a faint smile. This corset bodice was a pain, literally, but it seemed to be doing wonders for her image. Now if only Mich would notice more than her labored breathing!

  Spirit knelt down and Nola grabbed a handful of mane and tried to mount. The dress prevented her from spreading her legs wide enough. Spirit was a large animal. He had the size of a draft horse, but the build of a morgan. She loved it, but she just couldn’t swing her leg over him unless she hiked up her skirt so far as to make it pointless. She was forced to ride in the fashion of ladies, sidesaddle. She thought the position was not only degrading to women, but dangerous at high speeds as well. She knew that an actual sidesaddle had stout bars and things to hold the legs firmly in place, but she was riding bareback. Still, she had no choice. She sat square with both her legs in front of his left wing, close together in the manner evidently required of ladies. She had to sit up by his withers to do this. When she tried to sit behind his wings, her legs ruffled his pretty feathers and got in the way. There were times when she wished it didn’t matter so much just how far a woman spread her legs. Suppose she slid off and fell? Then she was likely to show more than her bare legs to the sky, while her face was in the muck.

  Spirit rose up and started trotting southward toward what was Welton Town on the map. Snort half slithered and half galloped behind her. Mich mounted Heat, who caught up and took the lead.

  Nola was still a little excited and confused by all of this. She was terribly happy, and yet she was also terribly afraid of what might happen to her precious dreams if she let Kafka down. She couldn’t imagine going through life without being able to escape reality in her dreams. She hugged Esprit’s neck, and he blew air through his nostrils in response. How could a simple girl like her possibly hope to save an entire world? She decided she had to try, for the sake of Mich and Esprit. She just had to do it!

  Nola looked at Mich, who was riding ahead of her. He sat confidently on Heat’s back. He bounced a little, as there was no saddle, but he rode well. His broad shoulders were squared and his hair flew about wildly in the wind. He was very comely. He turned and smiled back at her and she was reassured. Actually she seemed to be keeping her place on Spirit’s back well enough; maybe there was some magic holding her there, because even if she had been an expert rider, she wouldn’t be able to ride well bareback sidesaddle.

  “We don’t have much time left! Come on!” Mich yelled. He delicately squeezed Heat’s ribs with his knees and Heat faltered, then lunged forward into a full run.

  Nola figured this would be a laudable time for her to show off. Esprit already knew what she wanted. He too lunged forward, almost dislodging her despite the magic as he thrust his body ahead. She clung tightly to his thick mane as he galloped. His great black hooves beat thunderously beneath them, kicking up large rocks and clods of dirt. The hairs of his mane were so fine and silky, yet it seemed as if each one was made of steel wire.

  It was only a moment before Esprit was in front of Heat, and he was still running strongly when Nola heard Mich call faintly for her to stop. He wasn’t very far behind but it was difficult to hear over the pounding of hooves. Nola started to wonder if something was wrong. Esprit slowed to a trot and stopped, his sides heaving.

  They had covered a lot of ground. Nola had dreamed that Esprit was fast, but this was incredible. She'd never experienced anything so pleasurable. She was pleased to read in Spirit’s mind that he felt the same. They had left the Forest of Imagination behind and were within sight of the River of Thought, on their left, and Welton Town was also nearby, though out of sight.

  “What’s wrong, Mich?” she asked, panting for breath.

  “Nothing,” he said as he caught up. “It’s just that we're almost to Welton Town and the townspeople wouldn’t like it if we just came crashing in. Besides, we left poor Snort far behind. He can fly pretty fast, but he’s not that fast.”

  She realized that she had been thoughtless, in her sheer delight of the ride. It had been fun to ride Spirit on the beach in the real world, but here in Kafka it was absolutely glorious. “Where is the town?”

  “It’s just over that rise in the meadow,” he said, pointing. “The Welties don’t like unisi. They are scared that their crops will get trampled.”

  “Welties?” Nola asked, perplexed.

  “Their name implies their state. They are people like you and me, but their bodies are black and blue and covered with lumps and bumps, otherwise known as, you guessed it, welts.” Mich looked up. “Here’s Snort.”

  Nola looked up too. Snort was flying downward to them on his nearly inadequate wings, leaving a trail of steam behind. He landed with a thud on his short front legs and did a clumsy somersault. He shook himself and looked toward Mich, annoyed.

  “I’m sorry, little guy,” Mich said, patting Snort’s brown head. “We just got a little excited. We won’t leave you behind again. That is, except for now. I don’t think the Welties would appreciate you as much as we do, so you will have to stay with Heat and Spirit and travel to the southern fringe of Welton Town. We will meet you there. Be careful; the Fren might be wandering about. We'll see you soon.” He patted Snort again.

  “One question,” Nola said. “Why do we have to go through here at all? Can’t we just go around?”

  “We are going to need all the help we can get.” With that, he dismounted and walked out into the meadow.

  Nola followed uncertainly. These creatures sounded disgusting, but if Mich thought that they could help, then they probably would. After all, he was a prince here.

  Welton Town was incredibly similar to a Virginia suburb. It consisted of a few town-type houses and
some ramblers. Each had a beautifully manicured lawn, and flowers bloomed in backyard gardens. It was all surrounded by small plots of farmland.

  On each plot was a specific kind of fruit or vegetable. On some plots, there were familiar livestock such as chickens, goats and pigs.

  One of the town’s inhabitants came out to greet them. It was a tall, slim woman. She was wearing a white tight-fitting minidress, a pair of sandals and a flowing black cowl. Her face was greenish blue and her lips were black. In contrast, her eyes were a sparkling gold color. She smiled, showing perfectly straight white teeth.

  She bowed deeply to Mich. “Welcome, Your Highness, to Welton Town. My name is Greyden. The Welties have heard of your coming. I and my husband would be so honored if you and your lady friend would consent to stay at our inn during your brief visit.”

  Mich was forced to reply, as Nola was too disgusted by her beaten appearance to speak. It reminded her of an abused woman and dredged up thoughts she wished not to think. “We would be happy to,” he said, nudging Nola.

  “Yes, of course we would!” she agreed with feigned enthusiasm.

  The woman smiled and led them through the paved streets to the inn. It was really a small motel. It looked like the kind one would end up staying in if one’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere.

  Nola was surprised at the inside, however. It was lavishly furnished with Oriental rugs and Victorian furniture. In the ceiling of the lobby was a massive crystal chandelier lit by flickering candles.

  She led them down a narrow hallway and through a squeaky door. Inside was a small chamber. Bookshelves lined the walls. There was a desk with an elderly gentleman sitting behind it. The room was lit by a tiny window. A haze of dust floated along the rays of sunlight that sprang through the glass.

  The old man looked up from his papers when he heard the squeak of the door.

  The woman bowed to them. “I’ll prepare a dinner if you’ll be staying.”

  “We will stay for dinner, thank you,” Mich said. He hadn’t thought about dinner, and the guards had forgotten to bring them some food. It was kind of Greyden to offer, as the Welties were not normally so hospitable to strangers, even royal ones. Greyden bowed again and left the room.