CHAPTER X

For three days, he walked through the forest, wailing in his grief. On the first day, he cursed the magician and the white queen, on the second day, he cursed the heavens, and on the third day he cursed himself. Finally he gave up. And in that moment, he noticed a strange creature, with the wings and face of a bird but the body and tail of a beast. "Well." Said the dreamer. "If you're going to eat me, you might as well get it over with.

"Hmm..." It said, looking at him. "A generous offer, but one I must respectfully decline."

"You talk?" Said the dreamer. "What are you?"

"I am a gryphon."

"Oh. Well I hope I didn't offend you. I'd forgotten that I was in a dream world, where everything can talk."

"I'm not offended. But it's the same in your own world, you know. You just have to realize that talks in it's own way."

"How then, do you talk differently?" Asked the dreamer.

"Well... I don't know if there's time to tell you all that. But I have an example, if you want one."

"What is it?"

"I won't speak unless somebody addresses me first."

"Out of choice?"

"Yes and no. I suppose I could, if I wanted to, do it differently, but I do it to honor the memory of someone I used to care about, a long time ago."

"Does it make you unhappy?"

"It used to, but now, in many ways, I prefer it, because I don't like telling people things that they don't want to hear, but I also am unwilling to lie."

"Well, I'm glad you don't like lying. The last person that promised to help me told me a lie that almost killed me.

"The magician?" Asked the gryphon.

"Yes." Said the dreamer.

"I'm not surprised. A daemon will lie if it thinks it will benefit from lying, and a magician will practice deceit if it thinks the deception will help the person thus deceived. And a gryphon will always tell the truth, regardless of who it may hurt or harm. I do not promise to help you. But in a sense, the magician did not lie. It all depends on your view of time."

"Who then, is the other dreamer, and where shall I find the flower I seek?"

"The reason why there is nothing beautiful is that everything in this land was created by the white queen, through the power of the dreamer she has enslaved. And she binds all things in this land to her will, and keeps them as her possessions. That is why nothing here can ever be beautiful; you cannot create beauty without love, and you cannot love a thing and own it at the same time. But there was another dreamer. You are the other dreamer, and the flower you seek shall exist when you dream of it.

"Then it is hopeless after all. I cannot dream. I have forgotten all my dreams."

"But you have not forgotten all of your dreams. You kept one, and only one, and though you never thought about it, still, in your secret heart, you kept and cherished it. Think! What brought you here, to a land of dreams, if you cannot dream?"

"Oh, nothing, really. As the white queen said, it was merely some pointless fancy."

"That," Said the gryphon, "Is the first lie you have ever told.

"Oh very well." Said the dreamer. "It is because I am cursed with having emotions, and following the weakest of them."

"Hmm.." Said the gryphon. "I am unfamiliar with how you humans classify your emotions. Does this "weakest" emotion of yours have a name?"

"Yes."

"Well then, speak it's name."

"Love."

"You say that love is the weakest of the emotions. But in the name of love, you did battle with forces powerful beyond your ability to comprehend!"

"Of course! What is worth fighting for, except love?!"

"And you say you never dream! But what is love, except for a dream from which we hope to never awaken?"

The dreamer said no more, and after a while longer, the gryphon bowed his head and flew away.

The dreamer noticed there was a stream behind where the gryphon had been standing. So he dug a little hole, planted the seed in it, and watered it, first with his tears, and then with water from the stream. And then, overcome with weariness, he laid down and fell asleep. And then he had a dream. You may think it strange to dream in a dream, but you do it all the time. This is what he dreamed....

The stream he was sleeping next to opened up into a vast rushing river. It was, in fact, a part of the river of dreams. The dreamer fell in and began floundering about, he could not fight the current or keep his head above the water, which was actually the raw stuff that dreams are made from. Suddenly a root grabbed him and pulled him out of the water. It was a tree so tall he could not see the top of it, which had grown from the seed he had planted, and rescued him out of gratitude for helping it escape from it's tiny prison. He began to climb it, until he had climbed above the grey, dreary sky, and saw, for the first time, the stars. And a wind began to blow, for there are winds in the heavens as well as the earth, and some are powerful enough to destroy whole planets, but this was only a light breeze. When the wind blew, the stars began to ring like thousands of tiny bells. And then he heard, in the tinkling, the voice of the lady of the stars.

She told them that some of the younger stars, were restless and wondered what the world below them was like, and asked if he would take them below with him, so that they would understand why it was better to be stars. So he took all the stars that called to him, and gathered them in his hands, loving them, breathing his love onto them, and they became beautiful flowers. And because they were the first flowers this world had ever seen, they were called the elder flowers.

When the dreamer awakened, the seed he had planted was no more than a tiny shoot, but he held a bunch of the flowers in his hand.