The Book of Dreams

by O. R. Melling

  Up from the ground rose a globe of greenish light. Small as an apple and seemingly harmless, it paused in midair, as if looking around. Now another rose up, as big as a grapefruit, then another, larger still, the size of a football. As more and more joined the swarm, their appearance grew increasingly sinister.

  “In Québec,” Jean said in an undertone, “we say the feux follets are sinners so bad they are not welcome in hell.”

  Dana stared at the fireballs that now hissed and spat. The sickly green color was all too familiar, as was the waspish drone that reverberated through the air. Though they were known in Quebec, these things were undoubtedly Crowley’s own distorted versions.

  “How often have you faced them?” she asked with horror.

  “I stop counting,” he said with a shrug.

  His quiet courage steadied her. This was why she had come. Despite his strength and bravery, this was where Jean failed.

  The swarm was growing increasingly agitated. Before Dana had time to cup her hands, the crazy fires bore down.

  “I think now we run, non?”

  “Yes!” cried Dana.

  Heads down, shoulders hunched, they raced for the ridge. It meant charging the feux follets full-on. It was like dodging gigantic bullets or burning hailstones. While Jean swerved with the skill of one who had done this many times, Dana held her hands high and called on the light.

  As if they sensed she was a threat, the fires sped toward Dana. The green flashes blinded her. The buzzing noise was deafening. One struck her left hand. She cried out as it burned her. And lost her concentration. Another struck her right hand. More searing pain.

  Jean was beside her, running silently. As he ducked to miss a globe, another struck his back. She saw the scorch mark on his shirt. The red weal on his skin.

  She had to do something. Into her mind flew an image of him lying in the hospital. With sudden certainty she knew that he would die there if she didn’t stop the attack.

  “This is for you!” she cried.

  A golden banner of light streamed from her hands.

  And she flung it over him like a shining cloak.

  The feux follets went mad. But as soon as they drew near, they drowned like flies in molten gold.

  “And this is for me,” she thought as the guilt and shame was burned away. A baptism by fire.

  “Bravo!” Jean yelled.

  “Keep running!” Dana panted, not letting up her stride.

  Yes, it was working. The crazy fires were in disarray. As more and more were destroyed by the light, they finally retreated.

  And as Dana and Jean reached the foot of the ridge, the landscape faded away around them.

  • • •

  Dana was back in the hospital, beside Jean’s bed. His eyes fluttered open. Gently she moved her hands away from his forehead, but not before he had caught sight of the remnant of gold.

  “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” he whispered. “What are you?”

  She was overwhelmed with relief and joy. She had done it! He was free from the nightmare in which Crowley had imprisoned him.

  But this was not the time for explanations. He needed to rest, to recover.

  “I’m something different,” she said softly. “Get better and I’ll see you soon, mon ami.”

  As his eyes closed in a deep and healing sleep, she left the room.

  Dana’s dream began badly. She was floating in a black void, as if underwater. Her first instinct was to draw on her light. The clash of metal rang out as she cupped her hands. They were encased in gauntlets of iron, the bane of Faerie! A wave of despair washed over her. She struggled against it. The dark would not claim her without a fight. As soon as she began to struggle, she felt herself move upward. Using the iron gloves as weapons, she pummeled the void, rising like a bubble toward the surface.

  In a burst of black spray, she emerged from the darkness and found herself treading water in a mountain lake. Above her, the sky was ablaze with sunset. All around were the great shadows of the mountains. She swam to shore.

  The dark tarn lay in a high hidden pasture. The grass glistened with evening dew. The earth was cool and damp beneath her bare feet. The iron gloves had disappeared. She was dressed in a white gown that reached her feet. She didn’t wonder why she was dry after her swim, nor did she question what was going on. She knew she was dreaming.

  Now she walked through fields lined with bushes of yellow whin that glowed palely in the dimness. She came to a wooden archway that stood alone and unsupported. It was guarded by statues of Indian goddesses. An inscription was carved on the lintel overhead.

  It’s a funny old world.

  Dana knew where she was. Gabriel had brought her here when they still lived in Ireland. A sculpture park outside of Roundwood in the Wicklow Mountains, it belonged to an eccentric philosopher. The park featured statues made in Mahabalipuram in southern India. One figure in particular dominated the collection.

  “Ganesha!” Dana murmured.

  Her stepmother’s prayers were answered. He had come!

  She hurried into the park and there, as she remembered it, was the great statue of Ganesha in shining black granite. He looked round and jolly, with plump limbs and toes, big belly and trunk, a generous spread of leafy ears, and long eburnine tusks. Sitting cross-legged on a dais, he held a book in his lap. When Dana glanced at the pages they were blank at first, a tabula rasa. Then letters began to form, darting like tiny fish in a pool. They spelled out words: The Book of Dreams. Dana noted the message, though she had no idea what it meant. She gazed expectantly at the statue, but nothing happened.

  Not far from where she stood, a green garden hose lay coiled in the grass like a snake. In India, priests would bathe the temple statues with water and various oils and perfumes. In the sculpture park, guests were invited to shower Ganesha. Dana retrieved the hose and stood on tiptoe to spray the statue. In the last rays of the evening sun, the water sparkled with light, cascading over the gleaming black figure.

  The first sound Dana heard was a chuckle. It rose from deep inside the belly of the god. Then came the tinkle of anklets as his left foot twitched. The chest heaved slightly and the limbs stretched out. Color seeped like life into the cold stone. The white pearls of Hyderabad and the blue gems of Bangalore shone on the silver-gray elephantine skin. Now the eyes shot open, bright with wisdom and mischief and laughter.

  Dana jumped back. Dream or no, he was overwhelming!

  THE LORD GANESHA.

  Flap flap went the great ears like giant fronds in the wind. Haarrooo blew the trunk’s trumpet call.

  He didn’t give her the chance to bow. Leaping from the dais, he caught her hands and danced her around the park with sweeping strides. Now the other statues came to life. Ganesha playing the tabla. Ganesha playing the sitar. Ganesha playing the flute. A wild sweet music rang through the air, singing of hot winds and red soil, bright silks and glass bangles, banyan trees and scented temples. Indiahhhhh.

  “You came!” Dana cried with delight. “Just like Radhi said you would!”

  “My daughter calls, I answer.”

  His voice was rich and dark like chocolate. Hooting and laughing, he scooped her into his arms and swung her high as if she were a baby. Then gently he placed her back on the ground.

  “I have many forms, many abilities, but I come to you this night as the Remover of Obstacles. For a short while only, I will lift the veil. For a short while only, I can remove what keeps you from your land and people. But you must act quickly. Your enemy is near and dreams are fragile. This one will soon be torn asunder.”

  Dana understood the warning. At the periphery of her vision, she could see a greenish mist creeping toward the park. As it moved, it consumed the grass and the bushes and all the colors of her dream. Her heart beat wildly.

  “Where should I go? What should I do?”

  Ganesha took her hand and walked her back to the lake through which she had arrived. On the shore was a little coracle with oars.
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br />   “Go quickly, daughter. What you seek awaits you on the other side.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much!”

  She lifted his hand and kissed it reverently.

  The Lord Ganesha smiled.

  “Fare thee well, child. Give affectionate greetings to my beloved Radhi. Tell her to laugh more, as it makes me happy. I have come to you at her request, but I will do so no more. Your gods are all around you, child of Faerie, you need but open your heart to them.”

  Dana climbed into the boat and took up the oars. Ganesha pushed her off with his trunk.

  The lake was as smooth as glass. The oars sliced through the water as if it were quicksilver, propelling the skiff over the surface with ease. As the sun set, the sky turned a midnight-blue, sprayed with stars. The night was still. The only sounds were the dip of the oars in the water and the lap of the low waves against the hull. The gentle rocking of the coracle was like a cradle. How long she rowed Dana couldn’t be certain, but at last she saw a rim of land ahead. She strained to move faster.

  As landfall drew near, Dana cried out with happiness. There on the shore stood a shining figure with red-gold hair.

  Dana jumped from the boat and flung herself into her mother’s arms.

  “Child of my heart, blood of my blood,” Edane murmured.

  “Where have you been?” Dana asked, urgently. “What’s going on? What has happened?”

  Edane led her daughter into the dunes beyond the shore. A small campfire burned amidst the marram grass. The flames flickered in the darkness.

  “We are on the border of Faerie,” Edane told her quietly. “The Lord Ganesha fashioned a dream to make a bridge that could bring you here. There was no other way, for there are no bridges left. We must be quick, dear heart. The stuff of dreams is delicate.”

  Dana crouched by the fire. A little meal had been laid out on stones in the sand. Dishes of gold held fruits and wild berries, and tiny seedcakes dipped in honey. A jeweled goblet brimmed with wine.

  “Eat and drink while I speak,” Edane said. “Your fairy soul is in need of sustenance.”

  Even as she consumed the food and the wine, Dana tasted the truth of her mother’s words. How much she had hungered and thirsted for this, the fruits of the other world! In the long days of separation from the land of her spirit, she had been slowly starving to death. But though she was soon refreshed and nourished, a cold dread was rising inside her. She had never seen her mother so subdued and solemn.

  Edane was roasting hazelnuts in a bronze pan over the fire. A sweet woody smell filled the air. Dana remembered doing the same for Honor, the High Queen of Faerie, when she was trapped in Dún Scáith, the Fort of the Shades. Her dread increased. This was not a good sign.

  “Hark to me, daughter,” Edane said. “Our doom is upon us. The portals between Faerie and the Earthworld lie riven. Not only the gateways throughout Ireland, but all the doors of perception that open to the fairy world. All commerce between humanity and Faerie has come to an end.”

  Dana was stunned. This was beyond her worst imaginings.

  “I thought it was just me,” she whispered. “How did it happen? Who—?”

  Edane shook her head. Her voice trembled with distress. “It is an ancient tale interwoven with new threads of which you are one. There is no time to tell it here, and how it came to be is not as important as what must be done.”

  With trembling hands, she fed Dana the roasted hazelnuts, one by one.

  “The High King sends you this message. The hour of your destiny has come. You are the light that will bridge the darkness. Only you can restore the gateways.”

  Dana’s eyes widened with shock. A short while ago such a huge task, such a burden, would have broken her; but she had retrieved her light and rescued Jean, danced with a god and eaten otherworldly food. Though she was reeling at the thought of what lay ahead, some part of her had already accepted the quest.

  “You must find the Book of Dreams,” Edane said. “It holds a secret—”

  She was about to place another nut in Dana’s mouth when she dropped it. With a cry, she searched frantically in the sand at her feet. It was nowhere to be seen.

  “It’s okay, Mum,” Dana said, but Edane looked stricken.

  “The High Queen was to bring these to you. I pleaded that I might come in her stead, for I feared that I might never see you again. Oh, what have I done?”

  Dana felt a wave of the same panic. She was about to undertake the greatest mission of her life and the wrong person was guiding her! She forced herself to be calm. Her mother was already distraught. No use both of them losing their heads.

  “Okay, so I’m to find a book,” she said. “How? Where do I look? Should I return to Ireland? Or is it somewhere in Faerie?”

  Edane frowned as she tried to remember. “The Book of Dreams is in Canada. It is as the High King foresaw long ago. Your destiny lies there.”

  Dana was appalled. “Canada? That doesn’t make any sense. There’s no magic there. And I can’t quest in that country. I don’t know it at all!” A map of Canada flashed through her mind. “And it’s huge!”

  She might as well have been asked to search the ocean.

  “The High Queen believes without a doubt that you are able for this,” Edane insisted. “The Book of Dreams belongs to you. It is your inheritance.”

  “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

  The question only heightened her mother’s confusion and distress. Again, Dana saw the grave error that had been made. Honor knew the answer to that question. Edane did not.

  Now Edane stiffened suddenly and looked out across the water. A greenish mist was creeping over the lake toward them.

  “Too little time! I have not said enough!” Her blue fairy eyes welled with tears. She was already fading away. “Your enemy will do anything to stop you. Courage, my daughter. You are the Light that I bore. Remember always, I love you.”

  Dana reached out for her mother. “I love you too!”

  The sickly green mist had reached the shore and was crawling like worms toward Dana.

  “Wake up!” Edane screamed.

  • • •

  Dana woke in her bed, arms grasping the air.

  “Mama,” she whispered.

  Her face was wet with tears. She got out of bed and walked to the window. It was the darkest hour, just before the dawn. The road below was deserted. The street lamps shed light through the trees. The birds had yet to begin their morning song. In the distance came the silvery sound of wind chimes.

  There was no question about the reality of her dream. It was a cry for help from Faerie. Not only had her portal been destroyed but all portals everywhere. Her soul trembled at the thought. The bond between the two worlds had been severed. Each side stood alone in the dark. The message in the dream was also clear. The hour of your destiny has come. A pang of fear shot through her. She had been given a terrifying mission: to save two worlds! How could they expect so much of her? What if she failed?

  Dana steadied herself. Fail or not, she had to try. For better or worse, the job was hers.

  A sweet fragrance lingered in the air around her. She heard the faint sound of music. She was not alone. Great powers had already moved to help her. The words of Lord Ganesha echoed in her mind. Your gods are all around you, child of Faerie, you need but open your heart to them.

  Standing at the window, she watched the night transform. Slowly the darkness gave way to the inky blue of pre-dawn; then the half-light that heralded the arrival of day. In the changing of the hours, her resolve hardened. She would go out into Canada and quest for the book. Your enemy will do anything to stop you. Her mother’s warning explained Crowley and the attacks against her. She would have to protect herself. It was time to end her isolation and ask for help. But caution was important. How could she tell friend from foe? For now, there was only one she was prepared to trust.

  Below in the street, across the road from her house, he stood. She had been watc
hing him as he skulked through the park, half-hidden in the shadows. The amber eyes glowed as he stared up at her window: the great black wolf with the white star on his chest.

  Jean did not return to school till the end of September. During the time he was away, Dana prepared for her mission. At home in her room, she practiced calling up the light. Her first efforts were miserable, as if she was drawing power from a broken circuit. Refusing to despair, she persevered until slowly but surely the connection was made. Her light grew stronger, brighter. When at last it welled up like a pool of gold in her hands, she bathed her face in it, laughing and drinking and eating the pure light. Like fairy food, it nourished her spirit. And even as the light grew stronger, so too did Dana. She began to delve deep to discover her powers, though she wasn’t always sure what she might find. She had never asked her mother about her birthright. Edane preferred to play games and dance and party, and her daughter was of like mind. Oh, how Dana regretted rejecting the High Queen’s offer to tutor her! Given that Honor herself had had to learn fairy arts, she would have been a perfect teacher.

  No use crying over spilled milk, Dana told herself.

  Alone and without guidance, she explored and practiced. Certain fairy gifts were familiar to her as she had used them occasionally in Faerie: glamore, flight, enchantment, and shape-shifting. But they were far more difficult to wield in the Earthworld. On top of that, her skills were halved due to the fact she was part human. Still, she had enough to work with, and as her powers increased, so too did her hope that she might succeed in her mission.

  All the time she was training, Dana kept on guard. Since the attack at the hospital there had been no sign of Crowley. While she wanted to think he had been defeated, her dream warned her otherwise. The sickly green mist had undoubtedly come from him. He seemed to be able to find her wherever she was. That realization would have terrified her if she wasn’t also aware of other presences around her. There were times when she felt oddly safe and secure, as if someone was watching over her like a guardian angel. Was it Lord Ganesha?