Creation Dreamer: A Heroine Fantasy Adventure (Calpso Goddess Series: Book One 1) Read online

  “Where did you come from, anyway?” I said, looking above and below for any other surprises.

  “From the Earth. Like you.”

  “And how did you get here exactly?” I tried to play it lighthearted, pulling my fingers through a hair knot.

  He rubbed his head and his eyes. “Are we going to play or not?”

  “I get the orb if I win?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know which orb I need?”

  “You are Magpie Turnley. You know which orb you need. Now pick.”

  “If I know, why play?”

  “Because the game will help you remember.”

  Friend or foe, I wasn’t sure, but he was in my Dream Lodge, and what I tried wasn’t working for shit. So I chose. I reached toward a stone as he smacked my hand.

  “You have to pick with your left hand. Everyone knows that.”

  I do not fucking know that.

  He smiled up at me and began tapping his foot. The limb under us bounced just enough to be annoying. I put out my left hand and picked up a stone. Then he picked. Then I picked. He blew out air in a huff.

  “No. Game over.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You picked the stone I was thinking about. So the game is over. Now you pick a stone in your mind and I have to make sure to not pick it up. So go. Pick one.”

  “You are a pushy little—”

  “I don’t believe we have time for your temper tantrums, now do we?”

  “That doesn’t change that you are a pushy little bas—”

  He raised his hand in front of my face. “Ready?”

  I hesitated. “Yes.”

  I picked. And he picked. And I picked. And he picked.

  “Game over.” I was a bit snide, but I liked that.

  His chin jutted out as his eyes squinted at me. “You are not good at this at all.”

  “Well, we are bound to get one all the way to the end pretty soon.”

  “Do you realize the probability of picking all but the designated stone?”

  “No. Do you?” Pompous. He was so pompous.

  “Astronomical.”

  “Do you even know what that word means?” He proceeded to ignore me.

  “Besides, it is not just one win. We have to win 64 out of 100.”

  “64 out of 100?” I imagined reaching my hand—my left hand—over the stones and strangling him.

  “Yes. We have to get it right 64 out of 100 times.”

  “Okay, that’s it. I don’t know who the fuck you are and how you got into my Dream Lodge, but you are just making this shit up.”

  “Your Dream Lodge? Fine.” He stopped tapping his foot and started picking up his stones. “If you don’t want the orb.”

  I grabbed his hand. “It’s just a little odd you showed up all of a sudden. It’s all a little—”

  “You are so damaged. Worse than I thought.” He breathed in for at least seven seconds and let it out audibly. “Not the way it was supposed to be at all.” He glared at me, and then continued to pick up his stones.

  “Wait. I’ll play with you.”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. His body so like a little boy who had failed.

  “Please, I will play with you.”

  It took some uncomfortable silence—some ridiculous unnecessary waste of time, but he finally plopped back down and put the stones back out. We began again.

  I sometimes thought we’d been at it for days, but the double waning moons never moved in the sky and the crack in the glass wall from Aya’s—what? Maybe an evil eye—remained unchanged. This kid and I stayed in lockstep, and all he said was, “You just don’t get it,” each time we hit ‘game over.’ The sheer delight of me throwing him off the tree and hearing him fall to his death over and over kept me distracted and sometimes laughing out loud. There were times we won ten rounds in a row and then lost fifteen just to start all over.

  Frustration got the best of me. “We can’t win this fucking game if we don’t shift something here.”

  “I agree, actually.” The child’s ancient voice trumped mine. “You have changed nothing since we first began. A bit rigid, aren’t you? A bit stuck in your own process. Towers fall around the places we are most rigid. That’s interesting.”

  That was no child. I wanted answers.

  “Okay, damn it, I’m asking one more time. Who the hell are you?”

  “I am Jasper.” He took a stone. Never looking up. “Pick.”

  I picked. “And who sent you?”

  He picked. “I sent myself.”

  I picked. “And why did you come?”

  He picked. “I wanted to get to know you better—the great Creation Dreamer.” I would say his voice was filled with sarcasm.

  I picked. “And have we met before?”

  He picked. “Don’t we all know the prophecy of the great Dreamer?” His lips curved a smidge.

  I picked. “But you are not from Alphazia or the Arae underground.”

  He picked. “So linear. How can a Dreamer be so caught in this delusion?”

  I stopped. We stared. I picked not breaking the gaze. “Care to explain that?”

  He picked. “Time is not linear. Life is not linear. The places we live are not linear. Aren’t you the one who landed here by going in-between. I mean, where is here, exactly?”

  He was right. I had no idea where the Lodge was.

  “Under the fire,” I blurted out. I picked.

  “Yes, but where is the fire?” He picked. “Honestly, don’t place so much power on your eyesight. It is the other sight that matters most.”

  I picked. “Why do you want to get to know me better?”

  “I like to know all the beings here.” He smiled at me and picked.

  I picked. “You sound like me.”

  His laughter was pure mockery. “I am nothing like you.” He picked. “I am this tree.” He stroked the limb.

  I picked. “You are a tree.”

  He picked. “I am.”

  “And what is this game?” I picked.

  He picked. “It’s yin to yang. Leader to follower. Being led by an energy greater than yourself.”

  There were three stones left. I was paralyzed.

  “See,” the child shook his head, “back into your head again as you look at these three last stones. Now, your mind will say, ‘Oh no which stone is the right one? I can not get this wrong. If I get this wrong, I fail.’ You would even go so far as to try to cheat. Look for a sign for your next move.” He peered over his glasses at me. “Don’t deny it, little Magpie. Win no matter what. The problem is you want to use your mind and it doesn’t work. You want your orb? The one true Magpie Turnley orb? Well, you better learn what it feels like to be led!”

  I was so stunned by his words, I literally couldn’t move. He leaned in toward me. “You think if you can figure it out then you deserve to win. I hate that word deserve. No one deserves anything. Does one person deserve to eat more than another simply because they believe they have worked harder? Because they have more, what do you use, crystals?” He laughed again. “If you have crystals, you deserve food and shelter? If you have crystals, you deserve a healer? But if you don’t have crystals, you deserve to starve? You deserve to be cold? You deserve to be sick and die? The haves tell the have nots, ‘You must not be working hard enough.’” He laughed but a tear filled his eye.

  He picked a stone. “Guess what, Maggie, you don’t deserve to be the Dreamer. But you are worthy of being the Dreamer. Just as everyone is worthy of food and shelter no matter how many crystals they have. Pick.”

  Without thinking, and caught in the visceral energy of his words, I grabbed a stone. And he grabbed a stone.

  “You got out of your head. That is how we won.”

  “Not 64 out of 100.”

  “No, but you finally got it.” He packed up his stones. “I am glad we got acquainted.” He bowed.

  “And—”

  “Yes, you will will
see me again. The game, Maggie. What is it to set an intention and hold it knowing the energy around you will conform to it? Like attracts like. You need to get this. With one solid intention you could even take over the world. Not that you want to.”

  He laughed until the Lodge echoed with his voice. I was so caught off guard that I didn’t stop him as he climbed up the tree and vanished.

  There was a long silence until the branch beneath me bowed down into a spiral chute of sorts, that landed me in the living room by the scarlet carpet and the fireplace. The moons’ light filled the room and danced off the orbs. I raised up my left hand, knowing who I was. I was the Creation Dreamer. It was so simple. I was the fire needed to light the Lodge. Not in my mind, but in my body. And inside, I was the water and the air and the fire and the earth all dancing. The elements of all Creation. This was the key. I was not just water as my Caly sisters. I was the communion of all the elements together.

  “This is who I am,” I called out, lifting my voice up through the Lodge and into the night sky. I imagined the moons and all of the Celestial worlds pausing to hear me speak. “This is who I am. I am the four elements of creation on the Earthly plane. I am the Creation Dreamer. I am a brilliant mutation of the divine. I do not pretend to deserve to be, but I am worthy. I am a worthy vessel. I am your worthy vessel.”

  There was no doubt. There was no fear. I was in harmony.

  I reached out my hand and, without even looking, welcomed an orb—the orb—as it rolled to me and into my palm. I brought the orb into my lap where it opened like a bloom into a single, beautiful awe-inspiring flame. We belonged to each other. Like with like. Hajone. I was home.

  15

  Ossia

  The bolt unlocked as Mountain Bear threw open the door, lithe as he slid onto the sofa, cracked his toes, and dropped his bag on the floor. The bear energy made him formidable, and yet there was this incredible playfulness about him as he threw a cushion in front of the hearth and motioned for me to sit down.

  “Aya?” I asked.

  “Well, hello to you, too, Kiddo. I’ve taken care of Aya. Broke the circle.” He nodded at me. “And you have your orb, I see. Good, you aren’t dead. Means you’re ready.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “It wasn’t a question. You are ready.” He grabbed his bag and walked around me placing crystals in a circle. “This hoop will hold you. I promise.”

  “Hold me for what?”

  “You have a journey to take.”

  I started asking a million questions. They just fell out of my mouth one after the other. Questions about who he was and who I was. How was the dream thing going to work? How Chama had told me the Earth didn’t want me.

  Mountain Bear looked at me and then smiled and laughed at me. “Magpie.” I kept talking. “Magpie.” His voice shifted, and he had my attention. “There is time for all of this. Right now, I just need you to breathe. We need to let this unfold within the nature of the Universe. Now, just like you did around the fire, I want you to weave your energy into a circle through each stone. Let your hoop come to life and fill it with your power. The orb and you are one. Let it flow in through you and out of you, filling this hoop.”

  “But—”

  “You are all of the elements, remember. It’s not just about water any more. It never was. That was just the story your mother taught you, and one you are now willing to let go of.”

  I breathed and closed my eyes. The flow of energy was immediate. Surges of hormonal-esque puberty flashed inside me, rages intermingled with the inescapable need to cry. But the stones, I felt them as I breathed my energy into the hoop weaving one thread after another. It was so easy. He was right. I forged a boundary no one could cross.

  Mountain Bear’s voice was underneath it all, “Allow the energy of this to unfold. Don’t control it. Just allow it. It will not harm you. It is you. Now, Maggs, allow yourself to go. Ossia is waiting. Go to her. It is all a circle. No beginning and no end. Float into the circles. They are all around you and there you will find Ossia, the last Creation Dreamer.”

  When water lies in stillness it forms the most beautiful image of glass. An illusion, of course, because when a stone or a small branch is dropped onto the water, it drifts down through the top into the unseen layers below and a ripple on the surface begins. There I sat in front of such an illusion, the rings of water started as small circles billowing out into larger ones that softened and faded away. So like the rings of trees, their growth lines the storyteller of their history. The rings around the moon when a storm is due. The rings of Earth layers that showed themselves in the asteroid fields before the fire pits erupted. All rings unfettered. Rings that were the essence of nature before the walls were built and the boundaries cemented. Before the veil ripped, too, I imagined.

  And then the utter halting of the circle of life. Animals died because of their bludgeoned migration routes. Rings of voices crying out, my ears often deafened by the sheer terror of animals and people and plants. Their voices like the branch in the water beginning the rings of fear. Each slamming the water’s glass top and starting the tsunami, first as a blast of destruction and then into stillness. I sat at the center of the history of the world in both the light and the shadow. What I couldn’t tell was if that was a snapshot or not. Something in me had shifted.

  Sitting in my hoop, a boundary-less black screen in front of me, images of the history of the world flashed through time. I say, time. It wasn’t really. If anything, there was a deep sense of timelessness. Events stacked on top of each other, and for a moment I understood Jasper’s comments about being linear.

  On the screen, the two-leggeds in single file down a path on their pilgrimage leaving the fires and the cry of the other-beings as they searched for the two-leggeds. They were heartbroken. Bewildered. Finally, an owl saw one of the two-leggeds and called out, but all the two-leggeds heard was her song. Not her words. She flew back to the council and explained the two-leggeds could no longer understand the voices of all beings. Lola wept. We were the tragedy, and they mourned.”

  “Go deeper, Magpie. Ask to see Ossia.” Mountain Bear’s voice there and not there.

  I tightened my focus on the screen and felt the chill of the darkness. Of the Regys, and this odd army of Coals. I saw the world losing light, and the days getting darker. The fear grew deeper disrupting the rings on the glass-top lake.

  Fog drifted in around me and then a breeze and sunlight brushed it away. Standing at the edge of a beautiful lake, so inviting as it reflected its tree-lined edges and the blue sky above. Little white wispy clouds floated by.

  “You made it, I see.” A woman walked toward me bearing the same mark as me. Her body covered in symbols acting like clothing.

  “You are Ossia?”

  “I am.”

  “Mountain Bear sent me to you.” She held my hands and looked deep into my eyes.

  “How is the old shit?” She laughed.

  “Well. I guess he’s well. I’ve just met him. Don’t really know why I’m here.”

  “I was the last Creation Dreamer, and our lineage is held in secret. Only a Dreamer can know what I know. So, he sent you to me first. It’s just how it’s always done. But, don’t worry, Mountain Bear will have you working your butt off in no time. He’ll teach you how to hold the power you awaken. It’s different for each of us. He is special, Maggie. I envy you. The time you will share together.” Her face fell still and her eyes glazed over for a moment.

  “I just want to learn what I need to get back to my life.”

  “Maggie, there is no going back.” She sat on a lakeside stone. “To be a Dreamer is your life. Come here.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “I want you to feel your feminine power.” I can only imagine what face I made to that one. She laughed, “Trust me.”

  I took off my clothes and stood with her. Her fingers draped over my head and down my shoulders. I wanted her to touch me—to feel her energy interact with mine. Her soft touch paused at
the scar running down my breast to my hip. I watched the story of the experience reflect in her eyes. She saw the coyote and the rip and the blood and Aldon. She knelt down and pulled my body in close to her mouth and blew across my tattoo; the dolphin ink floated into the air and dissipated into nothing. My birth mark at last—seen. I was seen and didn’t have to be afraid. Then, taking water from the lake, she drew symbols on me, each a container transmitting something powerful into my psyche. Had no idea what, but I felt devoured by the input as my pubescent energy matured into a sacred knowingness. I was a filled, worthy vessel. She wrapped her mouth over mine as we shared breath and the taste of each other.

  “Now, you know who you are,” she whispered. “To be in harmony with this energy of existence. Your feminine power. The humans told you it was weakness to hold the feminine. It is a lie. Harmony can only come when the feminine is alive. To have forgotten the feminine is to have left your true Mother, the one who holds you still.”

  “She has a funny way of showing it.” I couldn’t stop the snap.

  “Abundance and gratitude have been denied her thanks to the apathy of those held in some kind of patriarchal captivity. This feeling you have now,” she touched me, and I rippled like water, energy flowing out and energy flowing in, “this was what was meant for us. The equality of the flow. Not the domination as you have been taught in your world. And I am so sorry that is your world.”

  She moved away from me and back toward the water, a tear on her cheek. I understood her sadness. The Earth was plastic.

  “Why did you leave? Why did you walk away?” I asked.

  “So you would come.” Not the answer I was expecting. “Everyone wants to pretend our history didn’t happen. Erasing the truth is a tricky business. It works for a while, but eventually, history has a way of showing itself again.” She walked knee-deep in the water and ran her fingers across the top. The circles started small, rippling out until they vanished.

  “Your dying world? It started here.” Her eyes filled. “The power and the jealousy and the entitlement began when the Eris gave us Council Fire. The fire changed lives forever, right? This magical tool that brought us all into communion together. The Eris wanted us to have it so we could sit and share our wisdom without barriers. It should’ve been the best thing ever, and it was for a while. Until the two-leggeds wanted to own it, control it, be its keeper. It was a disgusting display of greediness. No one was good enough unless they owned the fire.” She paused, cupping some water over her face.