Aurelie walked through rows of multi-colored tulips. Behind her, the ocean provided a dance floor for its waves. They crashed and raced to hit the sandy beach.
When she turned back, a cabin appeared. The roof sunk in, and the wooden walls were cracked and covered in soot. Chunks of wood fell off, revealing large, gray, stone walls. The stones puffed up like balloons and grew taller, and wider. More appeared, four, five at a time, until a large castle stood in the cabin's place. A long tower climbed up toward the sky and disappeared past the clouds.
White marble rolled out from the door, like cloth, and stopped beside Aurelie's feet. No matter how mad the things before her were, Aurelie found them all to be quite normal under the circumstances. Though, she wasn't entirely sure what exactly those circumstances were.
"Wine my lady?"
Aurelie turned to the voice. Steps away a sculpture of a woman stood, with a glass of red wine on a tray. The field was empty except for the two of them. "Hello?" Aurelie said and moved her head closer.
The statue's hand extended toward Aurelie in three motions, lacking flexibility. "Some wine?" Her head turned, eyes moving, but lacking a lifelike spark.
"No . . . thank you," she said. "What is this plâ
The statue's free hand awkwardly moved to Aurelie's lips. Her eyes shot up toward the sky tower, and then back at Aurelie. "The master will see you now."
"Who is this master?" Aurelie asked. There was no response from the woman. Her eyes looked onto the tray, and her body froze.
"Okay..." Aurelie looked up at the tower. "I guess, I'll just see the master."
Aurelie followed the path up to the castle. The tulips extended as far as her eyes could trace them. Back home, she had never come across a place so grand. Yet, almost every detail held a trace of familiarity.
Blackwood, held together by iron bars, with bolts almost the size of her palm, made up the door. Two silver dragons were wrapped around the curve of the handles. Aurelie pushed her back against the door and drew it open.
The floor had been crafted from the most delicate stones that she had ever seen. They glowed as she stepped on them. Different colored crystals lit up and created three pathways, one to past grand paintings that led to a circular passage, one up a large staircase, and the last to a tall arch that opened onto a dining room. Aurelie followed the frames, they were large and gold, their paintings showed beaming faces, dogs, landscapes, and one obese, hairy, smug-looking flat-faced cat. Square in the middle, the largest painting of all was of Emile Dranoir, the King.
The rounded passage led her through a library, and into a tiny room designated for spiraling stairs. She lifted her dress and ran up, three at a time, anxious to get to the so-called master.
The stones on the wall to her left cracked, and fell, creating an opening through which Aurelie could see the outside. She had been inside the tall tower. Clouds floated below her, and through their gaps, Aurelie could see the foam spread on the ocean. She frowned and turned back. The archway that she had come through was merely fifteen or so steps away, there was no way she should have been up so high.
She tore herself away from the absurdity and turned back toward the stairs.
A doorway stood in the way, leading into a round room.
An old man sat in the middle, behind a large wooden desk. A black cat with bright green eyes lay lazily on some of his papers, playing with the feather that the man was attempting to write with.
"You!" she cried. It was his face in the smoke, and him flying beside her.
He glanced up, lifting the quill. The cat leaped up, and tripped over the ink pot, sending it splashing over his work, and his table. The ink was a strange color, a silvery blue. The cat fell on his back, and rolled all over the table, absorbing the color into his fur. All the ink came toward the cat as if it was metal filings drawn to a magnet. The cat's fur turned silver, he rubbed his head against the old man's shoulder and purred.
"Aurelie!" he said, beaming. He stood, and pointed to a seat, then picked up his big white beard, and shook off the remaining ink onto the cat's fur. It came off as if it were powder.
Aurelie came closer, her eyes narrowed. He hadn't looked near as friendly when his face was peering at her like a ghost. A chair appeared behind her. It knocked into the backs of her knees and forced her into sitting.
She opened her mouth to ask what was happening around her but the cat suddenly turned its head to her and narrowed its eyes as if he was suspecting her of something wicked.
"I am surprised you took such a long time to visit me again, Aurelie," the old man said and walked over to one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls.
"You're the one who came to me," she said. "I've never been to this castle."
"Yes, the castle is new but this realm that you are currently in is not. You used to come here all the time when you were just a child. And, as for your dream, you called upon me, and I came. You were under the effect of sleeping dust. Though you did not realize the dangers yourself, your body was distressed, and asked for the protection of the Dream Realm," he said and looked at her intently, as though the fact that he said this would trigger some sort of memory when he was convinced that it had not, he rather abruptly turned back to the bookshelf.
The Dream Realm? She could truly say that she had heard everything. "I, I don't remember ever being here. And as for this realm, I had absolutely no idea that it even existed."
"That is a shame. Kaiden was a stubborn man, they should have told you about me," he said, and took a book off of its shelf.
"How do you know uncle Kaiden?" she asked, cupping her cheeks in her hands. "And who are you?"
"I am the Keeper of Dreams. The servant of kings, and a prisoner of thoughts," the man replied.
"Poetic." She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "And what do you do, Keeper of dreams, something of kings and something-something of thoughts?"
"You ask too many questions for one day, young one. Let me have my fun," he said and picked up a tiny crystal vial off his table. It contained red liquid. It stained the glass as it rocked in his hand.
Aurelie ignored him. The man had been following her for days that she knew of and years that he admitted to. If anything, she did not ask him enough questions!
"Why am I here?" she asked and looked around trying to read the names on the spines of what looked like millions of books. They were all blank. "What are all these books and why am I here?" she asked.
The Keeper sighed. "The books were written by those that have visited my realm. And as for why you're here . . . Well, because it's been long overdue! The leading royals of Highfire are protected by a spell against magic so that their souls do not reveal their thoughts when they take their rest. Keepers were created for the sole purpose of keeping their thoughts. All their dreams and all their plans are kept safely here, where no mortal man can enter." He crossed his arms. "Is that enough?"
His answers begged for more questions.
"Not quite." She raised a finger. "Why am I here? Emile is the King, surely it is hisâ"
"You might not be by title, but the realm has chosen you to lead," he answered, and walked to the back of the shelves.
Aurelie's bit down on her bottom lip. "But â
The Keeper's nostrils flared. "Please, child." He interrupted her. "Come on, follow me quickly. You are soon going to awaken."
Aurelie got up and followed him. The shelves shifted in front of them and made a corridor filled with rows upon rows of books. He led her past them all, toward the final row. At the end of the row was a large letter A. She looked around at the full shelves and came across an empty row. A gray layer of dust covered the surface. She wrapped her cloak around her hand and wiped the dust off the shelf.
The bold, golden letter read, Aurelie. She wiped it again, clearing the last dust away, and then polished the letters with a clean piece of her cloak. "I don't understand." She scratched her head and turned to the Keeper.
"It has been here since I was brought here to keep these thoughts. Your shelf has always been empty until five days ago."
"Where is it then? Where is my story," she asked eagerly, wanting to peek at the things this man knew.
A thick layer of fog came over her eyes.
"It is time for you to go now. You are needed in the present world," he said and started to walk away from her.
"Wait, I don't want to leave," she said, but the room was getting further and further away. The Keeper grabbed her hand and pricked her finger with his quill. A drop of blood fell into the crystal vile. When the drop mixed with the other liquid, a blue fire ignited inside.
A force pulled Aurelie out of the room, down the stairs, and through the door of the castle.
She was back between the tulips. The path rolled backward, and the castle shrunk and transformed back into the cabin. Everything happened like before but in reverse. When she looked at her finger, there was no evidence that it had been pricked.
There was movement inside the cabin. She stepped closer and stood on her toes to peek inside the window.
She saw herself sitting at the table with her aunt and uncle. Elizabeth swung the pouring spoon around. "I wasn't able to get her a gift with the number of guards that are roaming the town these days. We could give her the new quilt I made. I don't think they've seen it yet."
"She'd like that." He nodded. "You could bake a pie," he added.
Footsteps sounded to her right. Leila came from around the corner, and walked through her, peeking into the window. Aurelie gasped and stepped away.
Leila turned, her eyes glowing yellow. Her expression had lost all liveliness, the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust. Her eyes were just like those Aurelie had seen in the woods. Her nails formed into long claws. She leaped towards Aurelie and growled.
Aurelie screamed and held her arms out in front of her. There was no impact, she moved her arms away just enough to see what was in front of her.
She was back in her room, tucked safely into bed. The tray of food is still placed on the white bedside table. Drops of sweat ran down her forehead and her back. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and steadied her breath, unsure of what just happened. If it had been a dream, she had never had one as vivid before, and if it had not been a dream, what the hell was she supposed to make of all of it?