Dreams and the worlds they live in
Posted by LizzyBeth
A little story about the world of dreams…
There is a market that can only be reached by moon light on the sea. It is on the edge of a sleepy town. My Grandmother took me there one night. We rode the ferry across the bay as the moon rose bright orange over the horizon. We walked through the silent streets. Signs creaked in the salty breeze. Just as the town ended, and at the edge of a low stone wall, merchants were setting up tents and stalls.
A hairy little man tried to sell me a glass eye, saying it was better than a real one–better than magic: you could see the present. And a lovely women in a green dress tossed a string of beads over my head than asked me to buy them. I didn’t have any coins to give her, so I reluctantly pulled the beads off. As I did, I could glimpse Forbidden Love. I quickly gave them to her; she stalked off disappointed.
My Grandmother tried to keep me close, but I somehow lost her hand. I was soon treading the path between the stalls alone, trying not to get stepped on by strange creatures. They were all shouting and bartering, hoping to get the best deal. I finally found a quiet tent. It was full of beautiful glass trinkets. Upon inspection, they were figures–delicate figures of men and women, children and infants, and occasionally a cat or a dog even a horse or two, one was a unicorn. Mesmerized, I meandered through the display cases noting that each figure was unique and that the people were oddly very human. It was some time before I notice I was being watched. There was a tall thin man behind a counter. He was very pale with dark piercing eyes. We stared at one another for several breaths; he seemed so familiar like an old friend or the tree in the back yard you play on; it is constant and always waiting for you. Quietly, I walked to the counter. He held out a figure for me to examine. It was warm in my hands. I held it up to the light,which came through a hole in the canvas where the moon shined. The figure looked at me and I knew instinctually that it was me. I would have dropped the figure, had the man behind the counter not reached out and grabbed it from my hands.
“You break it, you won’t get another one.” He said, his voice sounding in the back of my mind. His eyes reflected stars that could not be seen in a normal night sky. I shivered. “Do you know what we sell here?” And he spread his white hands out. He was not meaning just his tent but the whole market. I shook my head. “Dreams.” His voice echoed in my mind. “Would you like one?” I didn’t know you could buy dreams or even sell them. I put my hands deep in my pockets in hopes that he would see I had nothing to buy a dream with. Instead of lint, I found a small coin in the bottom of one of my pockets. Surprised I retracted my hand and stared at the gold piece. It had a raven on it with the words ‘facio somnium’. The man smiled a rather grim smile. He snatched the coin from my fingers and examined it closely. He whispered something before handing it back. It was cold on my palm.
“Child!” Grandmother’s voice broke through the silence of the tent. “Come, it is time to go.” She grabbed my hand. I gave the man behind the counter a fleeting glance. He was putting my glass figure back into one of the display cases. His eyes were on me and I thought I saw a shooting star in one.
Then we were out in the crowed pathways. I clutched my coin and hurried to keep up. The Moon was setting casting on orange glow over the water when we reached the ferry.
There is a market that you can only get to by moonlight on the sea. I went there once and was give a dream it sits in a box on my dresser, a coin with a raven and the words ‘facio somnium’.