The Dream Weaver

The world was quiet when the Dream Weaver appeared. Stepping out of a pocket of the universe, he surveyed the glittering city below him with weary eyes. The car horns and city sounds were nothing but faint echoes in his ears. No, he listened for the sleepy songs of dreamers, everything else was just background music.

He had existed as long as there had been dreams. And before then, he had existed in a deep slumber of his own. His sleep had been a hollow void, filled with darkness and the primordial expanse of everything that has been and will be.

When he finally awoke he lay upon a snowy cliff overlooking the rest of the world. Above him, greens and blues twisted with gold in an enchanting dance of the heavens. The bite of the cold and the beauty of the lights in the sky were wholly new to him, and he could have rested there forever savoring what it was to feel and see. Only the songs of dreamers sifting through the wind lured him from that place of peace.

Now, millennia later, he had experienced all five senses, and many more unknown to humankind. But as he walked above the city, bricks and cement roofs scraping underfoot, he only used one.

Her call came to him with a note of urgency. He recognized it immediately. Running the last few steps to the edge of the building he was on, he spread his arms as he leapt into the open air. For a heartbeat, the stars tumbled overhead as he fell, but then the wind swept him in its arms and carried him to the next rooftop.

Following her voice, the Dream Weaver raced across the city until he alighted on her windowsill. This close, her song pulled at the threads of his magic, begging him to weave her dream into her mind so that she could remember it forever.

Normally, the only time a sleeper’s song was this strong was when a dream held answers the dreamer didn’t know they were seeking. So many times, the Dream Weaver was called to someone’s dream to weave an idea for an invention or a novel or a solution to a problem in the dreamer’s personal life into their mind. Those dreams were strong, and their songs called to him from miles away. But the dream he was called to now held no answers. No, Charlotte dreamt of monsters chasing her through shadows, and she had dreamed this dream before.

The Dream Weaver stepped through the glass of Charlotte’s window and into her room. He approached her bed with care so as to avoid tripping over the clothes strewn about. She trembled under her covers, and a small part of him yearned to hug her and tell her that she would be alright, but he could do no such thing. He’d learned long ago that he could only interact with humans by touching their foreheads to access their dreams. They couldn’t see him, nor feel or hear him. He was nothing more than a ghost in their lives, guiding them from one dream to the next.

Gently, he laid a hand upon her brow. The warmth of her skin leached into his fingers as he summoned her dream forth so that he may see as well. His magic swirled from his fingers with the colors of the aurora borealis and cradled her mind. He exhaled, closing his eyes as he opened his mind to hers and entered her dream.

The air shifted, and when he opened his eyes he was in a dark room with walls made of dirt. Charlotte sat in a corner, trembling with wide eyes that did not leave the door to his left. She couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t do anything more than watch. And weave.

He had been in this room with her many times before – in fact, he’d been visiting Charlotte and this exact dream for nearly twenty years – and though Charlotte couldn’t see it, the glow of his magic filled her eyes. Evidence of his previous visits guiding her with maps woven into her memory.

And so the Dream Weaver waited, his fingers flexing with the urge to weave. Charlotte didn’t need his help yet.

Indeed, recognition flickered in her eyes as the wooden door crashed open and a tall shadow stalked into the dingy room.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” The shadow’s voice was the rattle of icicles in an earthquake.

Charlotte stood, her knees trembling. “I’m here,” she said with false confidence. She dared a step forward.

The shadow leaned over her, towering above her small frame. “You’re coming with me.”

“No,” Charlotte said shakily. “I’m not.”

“WHAT?”

Charlotte fixed her gaze on the shadow monster. Nothing but pure determination filled her eyes. “I said,” she shifted her stance, ready to defend herself. “I’m not coming with you.”

The monster roared, and with that, Charlotte swung her knee up between its legs. It doubled over, any sound escaping its mouth in a wheeze. She ran past it and out the door, and immediately fell. The Dream Weaver jumped after her, and together they fell through the darkness and into a green underground river.

Charlotte’s head broke the surface and she sputtered as she pulled herself to the river’s edge. Her arms shaking, she hauled herself onto the rocky shore, but she did not slow down. Water dripped from her clothes and hair, but Charlotte didn’t spare the river a second glance as she immediately walked toward the rock wall of the cavern. The Dream Weaver’s magic flared in her eyes as she walked through what should have been solid rock, and he marveled at how she let the magic map he’d spun into her memory guide her.

The Dream Weaver followed Charlotte through the rock, and finally released the reins on his magic as they entered a part of the dream Charlotte had never made it to before. The hidden passage led to an enormous cavern, even bigger than the last, but infinitely more beautiful. The green river flowed to the bottom of a glowing waterfall that seemed to move in reverse. The ceiling of the cavern was open to a sea of stars, and vines hung from its edges.

His magic pulsed from him, skimming over every inch of the cavern before bouncing back to him, stitching together a map in his hands. He followed Charlotte as she tiptoed to the water’s edge, his magic recording her every movement. She knelt and dipped her fingers in the water. Ripples danced from her and the water stilled in her wake.

Charlotte held her breath as a dark shape approached under the water, as if in answer to her fingers’ silent question. A moment later the large head of a goldfish emerged from the depths of the river, and Charlotte laughed.

“I was hoping it was you!” A smile took over Charlotte’s face, even as tears began to fall from her eyes. “I missed you,” she added softly.

The goldfish rose farther above the surface and nuzzled her face. It was as large as a pony, but that didn’t seem to bother Charlotte. A noise rumbled from the goldfish, and she wiped the back of her hand across her face, her eyes filling with wonder.

“You want to take me somewhere?” She asked, her cheeks glowing with joy.

The goldfish seemed to nod, and Charlotte laughed again. The Dream Weaver watched with a smile on his face as Charlotte clambered onto the goldfish’s back.

“To the stars!” She declared triumphantly. Together, Charlotte and her goldfish flew out of the cavern and into the night sky. Her laughter echoed for miles as they soared, and when the lights of the north wove between the stars, the Dream Weaver knew Charlotte had finally reached the end of her dream.

Peace settled in his stomach as the last strands of Charlotte’s dream knitted together in his hands. With a final look, he soaked in the joy he’d helped bring to the young woman before he opened his eyes and was again in Charlotte’s bedroom. She no longer trembled beneath the covers, and now wore a smile on her sleeping face.

The Dream Weaver looked at the woven bundle of magic in his hands with love before pressing the memory of the dream into Charlotte’s mind, so that she might always remember that joy, and always find her way back to it.

He didn’t hesitate before turning back to the window he’d entered from, another dreamer’s song already calling to him, but stopped when a light caught his eye. Peering through the gloom, he could just make out the gleam of light glinting on the side of an empty fish bowl on Charlotte’s dresser. It had been years since the bowl held anything, the fish dying soon after the first time Charlotte had that dream. He smiled sadly at the bowl before looking back at Charlotte. She still slept with a smile, undoubtedly enjoying precious time lost with her pet goldfish. He ducked his head and stepped through the window.

The Dream Weaver fell for several heartbeats before the wind swept him up and carried him to the nearest rooftop. And then the next. And the Dream Weaver did not cease to smile for the rest of the night as he followed the next dreamer’s song.