Three Ding-a-Lings Share A Dream, pt. I
A series dedicated to Charlotte Ella King
“Nah, that’s poop!!” I laughed. Bailor, caught in the moment, swiftly dropped the sack, which made an uncomfortable sound, too wet for reality.
Luckily, Nadae was so deeply focused on her enjoyment of a breeze she’d conjured, the sack simply opened to release a fine magical dust, bright whites, greens, and purples rising towards the tree canopy, seeming to stretch miles above our heads.
Or had Japeto made us tiny again too?
Asking the question conflicted with the thoughts of someone else, probably Bailor, and what I saw once as tall grasses were transformed into miniature sycamores wearing assorted clothing.
Japeto chortled.
His pranks only ever affected Bailor, but it was more than enough to satisfy him.
Besides, ever since Nadae had taken up yoga, the results always ended on a prettier note.
He took a deep breath, as colours intensified, finally seeping into the leaves and bark of the trees, and at times appearing as fireflies against the quickly darkening sky.
They both looked at Bailor, the only party member to prefer night.
He giggled.
Nadae, amused, prepared to manifest an even greater lightshow, perhaps a majestic aurora, or a musical lightning storm, when the ground softened suddenly, and they all sank together beneath the earth.
Japeto hated surprises, even in dreams, and the tiny sycamores panicked momentarily.
When finally, they landed, feet first, they were back outside, not in the forest this time, but at the foot of an astounding staircase leading up to a most fantastical castle, and it was still day!!
“Japeto, was that you?” Bailor asked with both brows raised. Nadae, by meditative choice, seldom triggered architectural constructs.
The stringy little man, nearly a skeleton in dreams, regardless of mental exercises thus far, shrugged his shoulders and took a look around. Then he said, “Will you love me more if I say yes?”
Bailor rolled her eyes, and retorted, “I’ll love you more if you tell me the truth.”
Japeto guffawed, then tested one of the steps—
Nadae intervened, “You know that’s counterproductive, right?” She’d seen it time and again, as fear and uncertainty throw off the direction of a dream entirely, or end it prematurely, but this man, a drunk in waking hours, never learned.
And alas, the whole scene disappeared.
She was back in the forest.
In the distance, Bailor’s figure remained, but observing closely, she could tell it was also now just part of the dream. Whatever, she thought, it’s time for me to wake up anyway.
She’d meet her friends in the dreamworld again soon enough, and that was okay.
And she’d remember that spectacular staircase—
I’d like to thank Charlotte Ella King for supporting my writing, for being a friend, and for accepting my story into her wonderful, groovy — spiffing, even — young publication, Defiant Joy, where we hope to be joined by other writers as time goes on!!
Like you?
Keep reading if so— or if not too, actually. There’s normally a little extra at the bottom of my pieces.
Here are a couple of Charlotte’s recent stories in the pub—
The one you just read, this was my first.
Until someone better comes along, I’m the only jokester allowed in her life.
*feels the competition closing in on me*
Oh, no— back away FIENDS!!!
Back away—
About the Author:
🔍 ㅤGustave Deresse Is a Canadian Writer, Editor, & Musical Artist Exploring Themes as Spirituality, Logic, Love, Life, Technology, Philosophy, Nature, Art, Neurocognitive Psychology, Creativity, Writing, Humour, Inspiration, Music, Well-being — and the Weird.
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Dearly, — G
