Wakers: Sayonara Sleep

by Michaela Hoffman

  “Please, no I Statements,” I laughed, hugging him a little tighter. The tongs rubbed my back lovingly as we stood there together. “I won’t stay out anymore. Relax.” A long winded flush sounded through the breezeway and Uncle Mason shuffled near us, smelling of lavender soap.

  “Oh, I can’t miss a family group-hug moment,” he announced. And he enveloped the both of us into a large grizzly embrace.

  Chapter 3

  ***

  As I rolled over, the thick sound of moving water filled my ears. In front of me was a man, knee deep in a steaming river. Bare-chested, his torso was a canvas of blue-green swirls. As he turned in my direction, a golden stone seemed to be fused to his chest, and it was glowing like a small sun. Ribbons of light emerged from the stone, wrapped around his chest, and extended all the way to his fingertips. The man’s movements were dance-like as he spun himself in the water, golden ribbons webbing atop the river surface. When he lifted his hands in the air, a sheet of river followed, loose liquid curls. With another swift movement, the water swirled overhead, suspended up with stars, and when it uncoiled, the blue water headed Eastward in the sky, like a flying river snake.

  In awe, I looked back at the man, who had now caught sight of me. One eye was covered with a patch; the visible eye was gold and scalding with intensity, blazing like the stone on his chest. His pants were printed with fish scales. For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then I realized, I was completely naked and covered head to toe in yellow flower tattoos. Wow, what a first impression. Before I could look up he threw a tunic at me. It was lightweight and blue with a gemstone crest on the front. I quickly tossed it over my head and stepped out from the reeds.

  “Thank you,” I said to him. He looked away and tied his white hair up in a ponytail. “Where am I?” I asked, taking in the wisteria trees, night sky, and bioluminescent fish beneath the water’s surface.

  The man took my wrist and guided me in the water. With half a glance in my direction, he traced a finger on the surface, forming words that lifted and displayed to me like dripping blue chalk.

  Nightworld, it read. You need to see the shrew. The words dribbled back into the river when I was done reading them.

  “I hope her name sounds nicer than your description of her.”

  With a smirk and a flick of his hand, more water words sprang up from the river: That is a nice description of her.

  “Who are you?” I probed. Kind of important info before we proceeded further.

  I’m Nez. Splash. I’ll take you to her. Though I was hesitant about taking off with this stranger, there was a comfort in knowing that we were in a dream. Whatever happened, I couldn’t really get hurt. Besides, I had to do this for Aza.

  As we waded towards the embankment, he trailed his hands through the river, lifting huge pools into the sky and sending them in the same direction with glowing gold lace. He led me through a forest trail, silently and speedily. I was too busy keeping up to bombard him with questions.

  The plants were large and jungle-like as we raced past them, illuminated and brightly colored like the river fish. Only the moon overhead gave a pale radiance. This scenery was new to me. I had always just seen Aza in these dreams, in one room, the brink of insanity. We finally stopped at the base of a tree behemoth, where a group of huge insects were gathered.

  “Hezzen up Nez?” One buzzed, with a fuzzy bee-like rear end. Its face swiveled towards us, clearly woman-like, black eyes roving over me with pleasant curiosity. “Whooz thiz?” Nez tapped my shoulder, drawing me out of a gawking stupor. He motioned for me to mount the giant bee using a viney ladder that ran up her back. I nodded, and started climbing, bracing myself with each lift and fall of the bee’s thorax as she breathed. The insects nearby were breathtaking and grand up close, with veiny wings, contoured faces, and muscular bodies. They buzzed and chitted in thick accents.

  We were airborne before I could do further inspection, and I latched onto Nez. The flapping wings droned like a motor and my hair stood no chance of staying untangled. We spiraled our way up, passing stretches of lighted windows in tree bark. Shadows were moving inside the windows, busying themselves on branches outside, or walking up networks of mushroom stairs that mapped the entirety of the tree. Small lanterns lit the mushrooms from above, dangling from clusters of leaves. It was like a fairy apartment complex. And these hundreds of shadows were the residents. I swallowed and started breathing again, wondering what the last thing I had eaten was, and decided that whatever it was, I would never consume it again before a psychedelic dream trip.

  When the bee finally landed on a branch, I truly had to vomit. I hurried down the ladder and retched into a leaf bundle. Each leaf was the size of my arm span. I wobbled back to Nez, still not entirely free from nausea. He held back a laugh and looked away.

  “Don’t give me a reason to puke on you,” I threatened, pushing past him. Together we ascended a staircase, solid but twisted like green challah bread. Moss jutted out from bark to serve as railings. The lanterns dangling overhead swung with the night breeze, mingling with leaves and wide-mouthed flowers. We passed windows with hollow homey innards that reminded me of dollhouses.

  At the topmost branch of the tree, a door was left ajar, light spilling onto the smooth maple landing. A chair sat outside before a panoramic view of the night sky, with shape-shifting clouds and a face to face greeting with the moon. This had to be the best real estate here, in my opinion.

  “Trespassers get flashed!” Announced a voice from inside. “Get in here if you need me.” Nez pushed me forward past a warm threshold. The inside of this tree home looked just like a cabin. There were wooden tables, carved counters, and a green painted chair by the fireplace. Yellow and orange tapestries hung on the walls, and a collection of purple-sanded hour glasses sat beside the hearth.

  “Wouldn’t flashing attract trespassers?” I inquired to no one in particular.

  A long cackle came from behind one of the tapestries as an old woman revealed herself with a wave of a walking stick. “It doesn’t when you’re my age Tuppa,” she winked, half of her face collapsing in wrinkles. She hunched over her stick and shuffled to the chair by the fireplace. Her cottony side braid and flowing red robes reminded me of a fortune teller. After she sat, she removed her hood. Leaning over her cane, she pierced me with sharp blue eyes. “Did you knock her up Nez? Or did you kidnap a naked girl?” She paused thoughtfully. “I wonder which action came first… ”

  “He found me,” I clarified. “Now can you tell me where my sister is?”

  She lifted her brow at me. “You may want to stay in the dark about such things, Tuppa.” I stood between her and the fireplace.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I need to know. My sister is here somewhere, and I think she needs help… ” I trailed off, catching their avoidant expressions. The fire’s heat reddened my cheeks. “Whenever I come here, I see my sister on the verge of a breakdown. Her words are too cryptic for me to understand, and then I just… wake up.” My eyes swung to the fire, its yellow feathers hot and twisted like my stomach. “Why does she bring me here? And what is she trying to tell me? I may not be ready to know these things,” I met the woman’s eyes again, conviction in my tone. “But I have to find her.” She lifted her hands and flipped over an hourglass by her foot.

  “Your eyes are as purple as my sand,” she observed. “How about that.” She turned to Nez, who was still standing by the doorframe. “Where did she Rise?”

  He walked over to the kitchen table and dipped his fingers into a cup. The water immediately left it and flowed into the living room, where it formed words in front of the woman’s face: Aril River.

  Her lip curled upwards. “How interesting,” she said, looking back at me. His words dripped onto the woven carpet. “I’ll start the induction process if that’s what you’re after. Go tell the Czar she’s mine for a while.”

  “Do you have any clothes I could borrow?” I asked, fingering the seemingly expensive hem of Ne
z’s tunic. “Lucky for you I didn’t turn this shirt into a puke rag after all.” I turned in his direction and the kitchen was empty. Its only occupants were dancing shadows from the hearth. I twirled the other way, but still no sign of him near the doorway.

  “One thing about Nez,” she warned with a half smile. “He keeps his distance.” Her voice dropped below the sound of falling sand. “I’ll be seeing you, Tuppa.”

  ***

  I came to in my bed, fresh sunlight spilling over my eyes. Though I technically woke up from sleep, my body still felt immensely tired. Like I had been up all night. Jeez, couldn’t there be at least one perk of facing the nightmares? I stretched an arm and knocked a pillow to the floor. My flower-patch skin had returned to its pale state, except for that one curious flower on my wrist. I guess in that dream it multiplied? Wow, what a dream. Even now, all the events stuck with me, as if they really happened. Though I was seeking answers there, how much could I believe? It wasn’t real life. But part of me felt compelled to ask anyway.

  I rolled over and yawned loudly. Nightworld, huh? How pretty it was. Aza, what’s happening to the ‘you’ I see there? As the daughter of a neuroscientist, it was reasonable to conclude these “nightmares” were helping me subconsciously deal with grief somehow. So I guess I’d have to keep going back until I found her.

  Strangely, at school, I had no dream-memory fading. No grasping at thought wisps; Nightworld remained clear as reality in my mind. I didn’t mention this to anyone. No, life resumed uninterrupted. But it distracted me. A small yearning burned inside to go back to Nightworld. Clover picked up on my aloofness during class, frequently asking if I felt all right. For years, my answer to this question was a lie. It still was.

  I mean, who can honestly say you are all right?

  Chapter 4

  ***

  Following the somersault flip sensation, I opened my eyes. Squatting before me was the woman in red robes. She struck my foot with her stick and I yelped. “I was already Awake,” I said, rising to my feet. The river was flowing calmly behind us.

  “That was a greeting here, Tuppa. I call it a love tap.” She winked and threw a dress at me, sewed together with green leaves. Yes, the naked thing. How could I forget? The woman parted the reeds and stepped out from behind them. My instinct was to follow her.

  I threaded my arms through the sleeves. “Does anyone come here wearing clothes?” I yelled.

  “Just the birthday suits,” she called back, barely audible. “Relish the liberation!” This woman was undeniably whacked. And enough time spent with her would make me equally walnuts. Fantastic. But I wasn’t here for her; I was here to find my sister. I managed to pull down the dress in all the important places and tore off after the stick wielding biddy. The moon was gaping, making the grass below white-tipped. Small creatures flying above or crawling below were illuminated in reds, greens, blues, yellows. For nighttime, this place was full of light. Not the kind of light I was used to. It was gentler, softer.

  A dragonfly-like creature landed on my wrist. I brought it slowly to my face, its small features sweet and smiling. Like a fiberoptic chameleon, its silver-blue glow eased into a sunset-peach. A blunt strike to the back pulled me out of my amazement, and the creature floated back into the sky. I rubbed my throbbing shoulder blade.

  “Who are you anyway?” I said, turning to her sadistically grinning face.

  “I’m Jeba,” she said. “But you can call me Sage Goddess.” She stalked ahead of me with impressive speed. “Come on. Let’s go.” In annoyance, I ran after her until we made it to the insect transporters. She pushed me up on the back of a humanoid ladybug. We took off before I could catch my breath.

  From a sky view, I saw the giant tree in its entirety: lighted, carved, and twisted beneath the stars. Like a liquid asteroid belt, water started streaking across the sky, weaving and ribboning until it settled into the giant tree’s branches. Shadows scrambled outside of the bark homes.

  “What is that?” I hollered over the din of wing vibrations, noticing that we had flown much higher than the canopy.

  “Perfume!” Jeba screamed. “Wheeeeeee!” She raised her arms into the air and we plummeted into the spinning horror of my near-death. By the time we arrived at Jeba’s landing site, my stomach was beyond hostile. Water wrapped around us in brush strokes and threads as we climbed off the ladybug.

  “This is not perfume,” I said after a dry-heave. With curious fingers, I reached out to touch the glistening water enigma.

  “Skyplume,” Jeba corrected, “Someone needs their hearing checked.”

  “When does Skyplume do this?” My hand penetrated one of the watery threads. Within it were patches of gold light.

  “Tuppa,” Jeba stood with hands on hips and approached me. “Skyplume is this tree, the home of the Skyplume Wakers.” She pointed to the flowing water. “That is our water supply. It collects into our tree funneling system that reroutes it to our homes and gardens. Then we can drink, boil water, grow food, and produce electricity.” She studied my bewildered face and threw her hands in the air. “When you first saw that man,” she said, “what was he doing? Roasting sweet potatoes?” A thought-burst soaked my insides. Nez wielded this water. He distributed the water for the residents here? Was he wading in the river, right now, lifting coils of river into the sky? “Come inside,” Jeba prodded, tapping my ankles with her stick. “It’s time to make you useful. And I might as well explain a few things to you.”

  Jeba entered her home and lifted a bright tapestry from the wall. Her fire was still going, as were her hourglasses. She ushered me forward behind the tapestry, where a dungeon-like spiral staircase descended into woody darkness.“Here’s how it will go,” Jeba echoed, placing a palm on the inner wall. With her touch, small beads of green light crawled out from cracks in the stairs; they tracked their way to the dark ceiling above, creating a chandelier-like constellation that lit our path. “On our walk down, I’ll talk. When we reach the garden, you work.” Jeba proceeded down the steps, her stick strikes resonating in the hollowness. I followed.

  “You are a Waker now,” she began. “Like the rest of us, on the brink of sleep, you Rise here. However, there is a great strength that is unique to only you. To fully awaken this strength, you need a trinket from each territory leader here. Then our Deity will recognize you, and give you the Seal you need.” Yeah, I probably got ten percent of that.

  “But I don’t care about a Seal,” I said. “I just want to find my sister.”

  “You cannot do this without the Seal.”

  “Why not?” I challenged.

  We reached the base of the stairs and Jeba stepped to the side. I hesitated in front of a domed entryway, and Jeba whacked me with her stick. It was a clear threat to move forward or else. Irked, I grabbed the bottommost chunk of her stick and pulled it in an effort to steal the peevish thing. In a half-second, her countenance transformed into that of a demon sorceress, and she spun around with a robust roundhouse kick to my ribcage. I reeled back and tripped on the stairs behind, raising my hands in surrender.

  “Only I wield the stick,” she growled, towering over me.

  “Jeba,” someone cleared his throat. “Let’s pause and take four deep breaths.” A tall man had emerged from the entrance, and approached the still demon-possessed Jeba with open arms and soothing words. “Now try to visualize your safe place.” Like a cornered feline, Jeba ducked away from him, stick clutched protectively to her chest.

  The man gently knelt down in front of me. He offered a hand, covered in black and white clovers that traced around every contour of his face and upper torso. “It’s okay,” he said, mango-red eyes aglow. “My kick is a poke compared to hers.” I tried to laugh but wheezed concerningly instead. After leaning forward on my knees, the air slowly returned to me.

  “I won’t try that again,” I cracked.

  He brightened. “Just don’t touch her things and you’ll be fine.”

  “Oh no, the Seal…” Jeba had
run off before I could ask her more. I turned to the man. “Can you help me get to the leaders here?” He offered a salute and guided me forward into an immense room. There were rows upon rows, stacks on stacks, of vegetables of every kind: zucchini, tomatoes, eggplant, broccoli, squash, and varieties I had never seen before. Grapes and blueberries hung overhead in an elegant fruity drapery. The workers were tilling soil, cranking machines, and harvesting plants. They looked like they had stepped out of the Garden of Eden. Like the man, their bodies were covered in mosaics of petals, leaves, roots, and or gems. Leafy coverings concealed important areas, and knee-high Herculean sandals covered their feet.

  Huge vats of water decorated the periphery of the giant garden, with makeshift irrigation pipes draining into plants in a systematic fashion. Butterfly-wing like solar (or I guess lunar) panels hung overhead and radiated heat like mini suns.