Willow Bloom and the Dream Keepers

by E. V. Farrell

  Her mother nodded, dabbing moisture from her eyes.

  Willow breathed out a huge sigh and moved her body out of its locked position. “That was amazing – incredible!”

  “You must appreciate … this ceremony isn’t witnessed very often,” her mother said in a soft voice.

  “I can imagine!” Willow said.

  “I’m so proud of you.” Her mother leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

  “Thanks, Mum. But I didn’t do anything. I just stood there.”

  “That’s not what your mother meant,” her father said. “It’s that you are now officially a member of the Keepers’ secret world.” Thomas hugged his daughter close. “Congratulations, darling.”

  “Let’s sit,” her mother suggested, indicating the small table with four chairs. She held her hands out beneath the book and it slowly lowered itself into her hands again.

  Willow sat between her parents watching the mist swirling inside the crystal. She could barely believe what had just happened, let alone everything else since getting out of bed only hours ago. This wasn’t some kind of fairy-tale encyclopedia or fantasy game manual, but a real, genuine magic book. She had, after all, just seen it do magic right in front of her.

  “Every introduction is unique,” her mother said. “The mist – the energy of the book – responds to each individual differently.”

  “It’s incredible.” The book looked much older than Willow had originally thought. She wiped her clammy hands across her thighs and gently touched the words ingrained in bright red letters against the worn brown leather. “TriGamon Udat u Svetlo Imata,” she read out awkwardly. “What does that mean?”

  “Touch the crystal on the cover again.”

  Placing a finger on the crystal, a white glow now replaced the purple mist, and something began to move inside. She leaned in closer and made out what could only be words and symbols entwining themselves, but none that she could recognise. “What’s happening?”

  “Open the book,” her mother smiled.

  Her father put a loving hand on her shoulder. “This is the real magic, Willow – watch.”

  Willow opened the book and gawped. “The words are changing!”

  “It’s written in a combination of ancient languages,” her mother explained, placing her hand delicately on the inside cover. “When you touch the crystal, the words change to that of the current reader’s language and when you’ve finished reading, the original coded language returns. Only Light Keeper and Helper families can read it. The crystal won’t interact with anyone else. It’s a security system of sorts.”

  Willow watched as the words began to unravel. “This is so cool.”

  “The first time I laid eyes on this Book,” her mother continued, “I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen … It opened up a whole new world, and I don’t just mean the Dream Keepers’ world. It taught me so many things – about myself – what I was capable of. I wasn’t Awakened, but I was inspired to nurture my love of archaeology instead. I acted on that dream and eventually became an archaeologist. I learnt to recognise opportunities when I saw them, and obstacles just turned into opportunities to see things differently, to get more creative.” Audrey gave her daughter a playful grin. “There was one time, early in my career, when I couldn’t get funding for a project from the usual sources. So I got together with a friend and organised a huge gala dinner for anyone who was interested – not just the inner circle of experts and donators, but for the general public too. You could say it was an early example of ‘crowd funding’. We gave a screen presentation explaining the potential of the project and offered visits to the site to any major investor if the project went ahead. Which it did, and all from the success of that dinner. Once you know about the effort involved in storing and creating our dreams back on Earth, well, you learn not to waste those dreams.”

  “Just another reason why I married your incredible mother,” Thomas added.

  Audrey smiled at her husband. “He’s such a charmer.”

  “Of course!” He lightly brushed his fingers across the bottom of the page. “We call this book the TriGamon. Every Light Keeper has one.”

  “TriGamon,” Willow said, echoing her father’s pronunciation with the longer sound. “So that’s how you say it.” She was still watching the words change; she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  “And you know, not all of them are as old as this one. This one’s a real survivor,” he said. “It’s at least three hundred and fifty years old.”

  “Wow. So are there many of these books?” she asked.

  “Very few. Which is why they’re so precious,” her father said. “But we manage with what we’ve got. Any new Light Keeper family has to wait their turn for a permanent copy. And it’s no easy task crafting one of these books, even with the help of the Dream Keepers. This book is a collaboration of knowledge and magic dating back thousands of years. Every part of it has to be painstakingly reproduced with incredible accuracy through the formulas of sacred geometry, a branch of mathematics that can map the templates to … just about everything, really. It’s the language of the universe.”

  “Let me guess. You help out with the formulas, right?” she said.

  “That’s my girl. Head like Mira,” he grinned.

  “Huh? Who’s Mira?” she asked, looking up for the first time since the book was opened.

  “You mean ‘what’s Mira?’ Only one of the most powerful computers in the world,” he said.

  “Right …” Willow shook her head at him. “Thanks, Dad. You compare your only child to a bunch of wires and programmes.” She really wanted to start reading the page, but she could see the sparkle in her father’s eyes that appeared whenever he spoke of templates and formulas. Just as well his enthusiasm for his beloved mathematics had been implanted in her DNA too. “Okay! So tell me how it’s done.”

  “Promise I’ll be brief,” he said with a wink. “First step: the Dream Keepers take a spark of intelligence born from the original book created in their world and then place it in a special container to keep it stable. Second step: it arrives here and we slow down the spark’s vibration by creating a compression field around it to make it more dense – but not too dense because we need the spark to retain its unique properties so the book can float and do all the other wonderful things it’s capable of. Then the spark is unified with the crystal on the front cover and voila: a book of magic and intelligence. There’s a whole lot more but we’ll leave that out for now. How’d I do?”

  “That’s got to be your briefest explanation ever. I’m proud. And I kind of get what you just said, which is a bit spooky.”

  “See? There’s no denying it: you’re my daughter.”

  Willow turned back to the page and read the title out aloud. “The Three Ways – is that what TriGamon means?”

  Her mother nodded.

  “Walk of the Light Keepers,” she read next. Her eyes skimmed over the page, picking up on key words. Welcome … knowledge … Ancients … duty … Doorways … She slid her hand over the thick parchment. Again the smell of incense filled her nostrils, though it was sweeter this time. The crinkling of the pages as she turned them made them sound old and important, as if they were carrying the knowledge of ancient secrets – which they really were!

  “So what exactly are The Three Ways?” she asked.

  Her mother softly ran her fingers over the words. “Well, for anything to happen in our world, three things must take place, and in this order: an inspired thought; an idea to create the inspired thought; and the combining of number one and two with action, thus bringing the inspired thought into reality.”

  “Haven’t you just described something a bit like a dream brought to life?”

  “Yes.” Audrey smiled at her daughter and adjusted her chair a little so she could face Willow better. “That’s the ideal. But what actually happens, over and over again, is that number one gets left out of the sequence.”

  “What do you m
ean?”

  “Well – many people tend to create only from ideas born out of their own, or someone else’s reaction to the world around them. They become problem solvers and the world is viewed as a set of equations to be worked out and manipulated.”

  “Isn’t that normal? How else are you meant to make things happen?”

  “Willow, let me put it another way. Imagine that you are following a chocolate cake recipe to bake a birthday cake. This recipe has been developed and tested by others over and over so that you can make it too. It’s a ‘normal’ cake recipe that everyone follows. Now, what if you wanted to make this cake a little more special because it was for someone you really love? You think about this person while you are mixing the batter when suddenly, ‘out of nowhere’, you get the idea to add raspberries to your batter. Now your cake is no longer the original recipe. You didn’t need the raspberries to make the cake work, but you were inspired to create something different, inspired by someone special to you. You changed the world, just a little, by adding the raspberries.”

  “Really, Mum, it’s a cake.”

  “It’s an analogy, Willow.”

  “I know. What you’re saying is that too many of us are making the same chocolate cake, following other peoples’ ideas. But to help things change, we need to create using inspired thought too. Right?”

  Her mother nodded. “Yes. That’s why so many people keep chasing ‘the next best thing’ because they aren’t fulfilled long enough by anything they are doing, and that’s because of how they are doing it; they’re not deeply inspired by what they are dreaming up.”

  “A bit like when a famous person wears something and then lots of people want to suddenly buy what they’re wearing,” Willow said.

  Thomas leaned back in his chair. “Precisely. They want something because they’ve seen it on someone or in some form of social media. We’re not saying that fashion is evil; it’s more about understanding that the idea to buy a particular handbag or a pair of shoes can be triggered by the media and not your inspiration. On the other hand, the person who designed the bag or shoes may have been inspired to do so. We did warn you. There is so much more than you can imagine.”

  “Peonie said something like that,” Willow remembered. “There is so much that your world does not see …”

  “Only when you include all three steps can you have profound dreams and creations that endure, and then become inspirational in themselves,” Audrey continued. “Take the painting of the Mona Lisa, for instance. In itself, it’s just a painting of a woman with a mysterious smile. Yet to this day it is one of the most recognisable images in the world. And why? Partly because it was painted by da Vinci using new techniques, but primarily because people are fascinated by what’s behind that smile. The inspiration that da Vinci felt to paint this woman in such a way is just as powerful as the painting. It gives it depth. That’s why an original painting is worth so much. It gives the observer access to the artist and the energy of inspiration with it. A print or copy can’t do that in the same way.” Audrey regarded her daughter for a few moments. “I think that’s a good place to stop for now.”

  Willow didn’t argue. “Is it okay if I take the TriGamon to my room? Can it leave the Keepers Safe?”

  “Of course,” her mother said.

  “The house is protected,” added her father. “It was the Transference that could have attracted unwanted attention. The book generates a lot of energy to do what it just did. We took double security measures – just to make sure.”

  “Unwanted attention? What kind of unwanted attention? Who might …?”

  “There’s lots of magic out there, Willow – and some of it we do our best to avoid. Where there’s light, there’s always dark,” he said.

  Willow fixed her eyes on her father. “You’re saying there’s dark magic out there too?”

  Thomas regarded her thoughtfully. “Hmm, how can I put this …? It’s not that magic in itself is dark. Magic just ‘is’. It’s more about how the magic is used.”

  “Okay,” she said. “So how good are we, the Light Keepers, I mean, at dealing with dark magic?”

  “Pretty good,” he said confidently. “We’ve had centuries of practice dealing with the Dark Forces – that’s another reason why we have our rules.”

  “Good to know,” Willow said. She closed the TriGamon and stood up. “Wow, it’s really heavy.”

  “It is,” her mother agreed.

  “So what do I do to make it float?” she asked, visualising the book drifting upstairs to her room.

  “We don’t ‘make it’ do anything,” her mother responded with a trace of disapproval in her voice. “The TriGamon is not in service to us. It’s here to assist us. And it only floats when we’re in the Safe or performing the Transference.”

  “Normal way it is, then,” Willow said briskly, though she was a bit disappointed that she couldn’t command it up the stairs.

  Thomas reopened the entrance with his hand while Willow watched closely.

  “It’s the symbol from the TriGamon! That’s how you made the opening,” she said.

  “Well done.” They all stepped into the hallway and Thomas picked up the painting and hung it back on the wall. “Now, I know I don’t need to harp on about the rules, but so you are fully aware, the TriGamon must not leave the Cottage unless on official duties, and it can never be shown to anyone outside of our magic community. Got that?”

  Willow nodded.

  “And always close it when you are finished. Never leave it lying around.”

  “Understood.” Willow adjusted her hold on the cumbersome book and turned to leave.

  “Enjoy, Willow,” her mother said. “And be patient.”

  She was near the top of the stairs when she remembered that she wanted to ask her mother where to put the book overnight. As she reached the bottom step, she hesitated, hearing a despairing tone in her mother’s voice from behind the closed study door. Very quietly, she moved in closer.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” her mother said in a low voice. “She’s so young, Thomas! I know this is bigger than us and the timing is as it should be – but she’s only twelve!”

  I’m nearly thirteen, thought Willow.

  “I know,” she heard her father say. “But if anyone can do it, she can. She’s smart and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. We always knew it was a strong possibility that she’d Awaken, and while it feels too soon for us, the Ancients wouldn’t have been able to Awaken her if she wasn’t ready or capable. She just needs to grow up a little, and this will no doubt speed things up.”

  Yay, Dad! Willow’s grip on the book tightened.

  “You’re right, I know,” her mother continued in that low voice, and Willow had to strain to hear. “It’s just … this is such a huge thing for anyone to take on. I’m finding it hard to understand why they would choose her at this age.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Something’s happened out there for the Protocols to change. We’ll just have to see how it plays out.”

  Willow turned as quietly as she could, praying the floorboards wouldn’t creak, and tiptoed back towards the stairs. Her question about where to store the Book would have to wait until dinner. With the TriGamon clutched to her chest, she climbed the stairs and wondered what huge thing could be going on out there in the Universe for her to have been Awakened right now.

  Ancient Knowledge

  An ornately carved wooden box sat on Willow’s bed; her mother must have put it there. Its lid matched the TriGamon. She touched the raw wood, tracing her finger over the symbol and the hollow centre where a crystal would fit perfectly. She carefully placed the box on her dresser then gazed at the shelf on her wall filled with crystals of various colours and shapes. She wondered if they could be magical in some way too. Her Grandmother Isobel presented her with a new crystal every time she visited, and over the years her collection had grown quite large.

  Willow made herself comfortable on the bed and snuggle
d into the woollen blanket her mother had knitted in shades of green to match the green walls of her room; they ranged from forest green near the ceiling to the palest apple green at the floor.

  She stared at the incredible book sitting in her lap. It was too amazing to be true; and yet here it was. Willow touched the leather cover that had been softened by all the hands that had held it over the centuries. She imagined her Great Great Grandmother Beatrice reading the book, and all of the different family members who had read it from cover to cover, learning about the Light Keepers’ world. And now it was her turn.

  “Here we go,” she whispered.

  The crystal lit up the moment her fingers touched its glassy surface, and words began to uncoil and twist within its sphere. She opened the book and turned the first page reverently. The written passages unravelled again, and on the edge of the page, amongst the symbols, images reappeared: a tree, then crystals, and then the Wood Folk.

  In old script the words at the top read: “Welcome, Light Keeper. This Book contains the knowledge of the Ancients: The Ways and Secrets of the Keepers.”

  Willow skimmed her fingers across the dimpled paper, inhaling the magical scents that were lifting off the page. The text translated itself all the way to the bottom.

  “As an Awakened One, it is imperative that you read the TriGamon entirely before you choose your journey. Wisdom is the culmination of life experiences enabling one to form insights that are then applied consciously to new situations. A Light Keeper’s duty is one of immense importance and must be undertaken only after due consideration. The dreams of the Earth are in the Light Keeper’s hands.”