The Book of Dreams (63 page)

O Siem

The fires of freedom

In the sky above, the night was shadowed by an immense winged shape. It was Pe-ya-siw—Thunderbird—Lord of the Heavens. His plumage gleamed with the colors of the rainbow. His eyes flashed lightning. His voice rumbled thunder.

Below on the plain stepped the humpbacked Flute-Player. He was the one who brought the seasons and gifted the people with the seeds of plants. Beside him walked Fisher the Hunter, who dwelled in the sky amidst the stars of the Big Dipper. Once upon a time, he broke into Skyland with his friends Otter, Lynx, and Wolverine. They released all the birds who now flew in the world.

Strong winds came sweeping over the plain. White Bear, the north wind, brought the cold breath of ice and snow. Moose, the east wind, shook rain from his antlers. Gentle Fawn, the south wind, blew warm sweet air while Panther, the west wind, struck with sudden force.

Dance in the burning flame.

Glooskap, he who was also called Koluscap and Gluscabi, was dressed for war. Fierce and robust, he had painted his face half-black, half-white. He rode upon a stallion that was also black and white. In his hands were a shield and spear of the same colors. A great eagle perched on his shoulder. Glooskap lived in a tent with Woodchuck, his grandmother. Another of his names was Odzihozo, “the One who made Himself.” For after Tabaldak made human beings of dust, there was one last bit that got sprinkled on the earth. Glooskap took form from that bit and sat up and looked around.

“Well, here I am,” he said.

It is the Mi’kmaq in the east who tell the story of the time Glooskap went to the Summer Land to get help to stop Old Man Winter. Glooskap told his friend Loon about his plan.

“There’s a land where the sun shines all year and it’s always summer. I’m going there to meet their queen. Maybe she can help us deal with Old Man Winter.”

“Good idea,” said Loon. “Try singing her a song. Women like that.”

Siem o siyeya

All people of the world

There also came one whom Laurel knew, the one who had helped her in her hour of need: Nanabush, Trickster-Hero of the Anishinabe Ojibwa. It was he who brought the gift of fire to the people. After he stole it from the Fire-Keeper, he ran fast and far in a great relay with Cougar, Fox, Squirrel, Antelope, and Frog. Nanabush was the son of the West Wind and he had many powers. When he was a child, he lived with his grandmother, Nokomis. One day he was so hungry he turned himself into a rabbit so that he could eat the grass. Nokomis cradled him in her arms and called him Nanabozho, her “little rabbit.”

• • •

Siem o siyeya

It’s time to make the turn

These were but some of the Old Ones who arrived on the plain, laughing, invincible, fearless, joyous. As they crossed the battlefield, singing all the while, the dark army fled before them. The warriors among the Old Ones smote the baneful creatures down. Those who were animals swallowed them up. Everywhere the enemy was in turmoil and despair, for here was beauty and light that could not be defied.

The Old Ones continued to sing as they vanquished the dark till not a trace of the foul army was left on the plain. Now the Singers advanced on the fiery rampart. Without pausing their song, they walked into the fire. And they danced and they sang at the heart of the flames.

Siem o siyeya

A chance to share your heart

The song they sang within the flames was one of triumph over pain and loss. They sang of the wounded side of humanity, of the many peoples who walked the trail of tears upon the earth. For the most powerful songs and the most enduring are those that rise to overcome adversity, to survive and prevail. They sang the song of the Risen People.

• • •

Siem o siyeya

To make a brand-new start

And as they sang they quenched the fire till there was nothing but ashes that blew away in the wind.

And watch the walls come tumbling down.

Their song finished, their work done, the Old Ones left the plain.

And so the battle ended that night. The claps of thunder and the winds and the storms had ceased their disturbance. The uproar of the elements and the sky and the land had been stilled. A great peace and harmony settled over everything. For all had been cleansed and healed and whatever was foul had been banished. There arose the greatest tranquillity to play its part in the Divine Plan.

Dana lay on the grass in front of the portal. She had no strength left to move. Vaguely she sensed those who reached out to help her: members of her guard, the black wolf that was Jean, fairies of Clan Creemore. But they couldn’t touch her. She was already beyond them. She heard their calls, heard the wolf’s howl, but there was no turning back. They were in the Land of the Living. She had gone into the Dreaming.

Only Grandfather was calm. He stood on Magh Croí Mor, but he was also in the cemetery beside Thomas Gowan’s grave. A brief smile crossed his lips as he touched the white bird carved on Thomas’s tombstone. With a rush of pale wings, the bird flew into the air. Flying high like a lark, it let out a call-note of sorrow and joy.

From the great forest around the plain, the cry was echoed a hundredfold. Up from the trees, in a blur of white flight in the moonlight, rose the soul-birds of Faerie. The night resounded with the sibilance of wings. Feathery voices rang through the air.

Swooping down on the plain, the birds flew toward Dana and lifted her into their midst. Without substance or weight, she was lighter than a feather. As they carried her to the portal they sang a Homecoming song. With melodious voices, unearthly and sweet, they sang of her quest, her mission, and her sacrifice.

• • •

Lost in the daze of her dying, Dana saw faces on the heads of the birds that carried her. They were the faces of those she knew, both human and fairy: her family, her friends, and all who had helped her. Jean was there beside her. And it was Grandfather who led their flight. Everyone she had ever loved was in that shining flock. In that moment she knew they were a vision to accompany her death. Dana accepted the honor with gladness, for it showed the wealth of her life however brief.

Once upon a time she was the light to bridge the darkness. Now she was the key to open the door.

As the soul-birds of Faerie bore her through the portal of the Great Heart, Dana sensed an infinity of doors opening everywhere, in minds and hearts, in distant lands, on distant worlds, all bursting open like flowers as she went Home.

D
ana was walking in a green and radiant garden. The scent of flowers sweetened the air. Butterflies flitted around her. Her mother, Edane, was with her and so also was Honor, the High Queen of Faerie. They linked her arms as they walked beside her, speaking gently as if to coax her awake. She felt light and airy, like a puff of thistledown on the breeze. Her mother’s voice rang with gladness, but Honor’s was tinged with regret. Words and phrases floated in Dana’s mind. They were explaining her new reality, the nature of her being. Her human self had died. She was purely fairy.

Of course she could visit the Earthworld now that she had restored the portals. She could even dwell there if she chose. But she would do so as a fairy, like those of Clan Creemore, and not as a mortal. She could no longer live among humans as one of their race.

Dana felt the protests rising inside her, but she was unable to speak. She was trembling all over. Where was she? What was going on? She pulled away from the fairy-women. Though she was weak and dizzy, she struggled in her mind to call up the portal. She needed to get away, to go back.

The portal took shape immediately, responding to her command. The good news penetrated the fog in her mind. She
had
succeeded. The doorways were open! Now she lurched toward the portal. In the shadow of the great arch, she could see the Plain of the Great Heart. It was still night on the other side. Bonfires lit up the darkness. But the battle was over. The wounded were being carried from the field to the healing tents. The dead were being taken away to be mourned. She could see the luminous face of the full moon and the spray of white stars in a Canadian sky.

Behind her shone the bright meadows of Faerie, the Many-Colored Land of dreams and enchantment. In the distance, a golden palace crowned a high hill. Banners flew from the pinnacle. A great crowd was gathered on the parapets and around the walls, cheering. She could hear her name rising on the swell. A celebration awaited her. She had rescued Fairyland.

Dana was devastated. This was not how she had imagined the end of her quest. This was not what she had hoped for, not what she had dreamed.

She pleaded with her mother and Honor. “I thought if I got back to Faerie everything would end happily! Isn’t that how fairy tales are supposed to go? I thought I’d get Jean’s humanity back and we’d be together. This is supposed to be the Land of Dreams. Where everything is possible. I don’t want things to end this way. This isn’t my dream! It’s a nightmare!”

Edane was bewildered by her daughter’s reaction. “You were unhappy in the Earthworld, daughter! You fled to us constantly and did not want to return. It was your humanity that ever pulled you back. Now that it is gone, you can stay with us forever!”

The High Queen was more understanding, for she too had died as a human, leaving the world of her parents and her twin behind.
For any dream to exist, there must be a sacrifice.
Her voice rang with sympathy.

“We cannot restore your mortal life, Dana. That is beyond our power.”

“I don’t want this! This is not my dream!”

No sooner had Dana spoken than she found herself in a different place: a small island floating like a lily on the waves of a warm sea. The clarity of light was intense. The rim of the horizon was very close, dominated by the giant face of the Faerie sun. Dana was standing on a green hillock at the foot of a great tree. The tree was bare of leaf or flower, but its branches were covered with countless birds. White birds like blossoms. Fast asleep, their heads were tucked under their wings.

“The soul-birds of Faerie!” she said, breathless.

Though Edane had vanished, Honor stood beside her. The High Queen gazed upward. “I didn’t really know what I was doing when I woke them. All I knew for certain was that they would change things. Everything seemed so hopeless. It was the only way I could think of helping you. Desperate times—”

“Call for desperate measures,” Dana said, remembering the High Queen’s motto. “But I don’t understand. What kind of birds are they? What do they mean?”

Honor frowned. “I don’t quite understand myself. They are something very ancient. A part of Old Magic.”

“There were soul-birds in the Earthworld, too, different from these ones. I met them on the ocean.”

“There are soul-birds in every world. They are coming into being all the time, but they also existed before the worlds were born. They are part of what made the worlds come into being.” Honor shook her head. “I’m saying this all wrong.” She frowned, tried again. “There are things that have no limits—they are boundless—and as soon as you put words on them, the description is wrong because it contains them, like putting something that should fly into a cage.” Now she held herself upright as she donned the mantle of sovereignty that brought her wisdom. “The soul-birds are fleeting, like thoughts, yet their power is immeasurable. They are the dreams of the Creator, they are the hopes of the Old Ones, they are the hopes and dreams of everything that exists. They are the utterances that make things come into existence and that hold things together, but they are also the bringers of change. They are the unravelers, the undoings, the unmakings …” Her shoulders slumped. She gave Dana a rueful grimace. “It’s all that ‘life, the universe, and everything’ stuff that gives me a royal headache sometimes.”

Dana grinned back, but in fact she understood. These were echoes of the teachings she was given when she was wind-walking and dream-speaking.

“The soul-birds in the Earthworld are often lost and suffering,” she said softly. “Because life is difficult there. Hopes and dreams go astray all the time. While the soul-birds of Faerie rest easy in the Land of Dreams.”

“Not if you wake them,” Honor pointed out, “which is why no one does, as my husband has reminded me. I knew I was taking a huge risk. By sending them to you, I started a chain of events with no guarantee that things would get better. Change is change. Hope can be a burden. And people die for their dreams.” She looked at Dana sadly. “It is my fault you died.”

Dana was about to respond when something caught her eye. She stared up at the sleeping birds. There was something wrong. Something missing. She touched her hair where she had tied the white feather when she dressed for battle. It still hung from her braid.