by Shayn Bloom
were delicious.
“Don’t get me wrong!” Boliers began loudly after his fourth glass of wine. “I love the Arrowhearts, but that whole vegan thing would turn me into a giant carrot!”
“I think they’re pescetarians, Dr. Boliers,” Ash corrected.
“Whatever,” Boliers said. “I need meat, not just fishies and veggies!”
Mom turned to Divion. “Lin, I loved your article in Psychology Today.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “You didn’t think the topic was cliché?”
“Not at all,” Mom said. “It’s a popular issue but your points were refined.” She spoke to the table at large. “Did anyone read this month’s Psychology Today? Lin wrote an article on the predominance of overmedication in psychiatry.”
Later in the evening, Dr. Boliers got to his feet.
“Oh no,” Dad moaned.
Boliers tried to clink his spoon against his wine glass. He missed entirely. The feat required a few more attempts. Boliers cleared his throat. “Now,” he began. “It just so happens that we’re all here tonight for a reason!” He stared around the table grandly. “And that reason is sitting right here,” he added, pointing to Dad. “Ladies, gentlemen, dog,” he bowed to Oscar. “The new Chair of psychology at Hopkins University!”
Everyone clapped enthusiastically.
“Way to go, Dad!”
Ash shook Dad’s hand. “Congratulations, Dr. McGallagher.”
“Wait!” Divion yelled in mock outrage. “Who’s my new boss?”
Oscar barked his applause.
My eyes found the only unhappy face. True, Mom was smiling, but the smile was a fake, a forgery. Staring at her, I realized something. Mom had lost. I had never realized that my parents were even competing. Now, however, it was all too obvious. Mom had built a practice, was a celebrated developmental psychologist, and had been widely published. Dad, however, had been more widely published and becoming Chair meant victory over their marriage-long competition for prominence and prestige.
Suddenly, I understood my parents. They were just people, plain people, simple people, limited people. The bittersweet moment when a child sees naked the lifelong limitation of her parents is one of both fright and liberty. My bittersweet moment had just arrived.
“I’m dropping out of college!” I yelled to the night.
There was silence.
There was more silence.
There was a lot more silence.
The only sound was the silence of everyone staring at me. And it was loud. Most people have not experienced the treat of telling three PhDs and a medical doctor that you’re dropping out of college after one week. I recommend it. It’s fun.
Mom spoke first. “No you’re not.”
Dad forestalled her. Despite his calm exterior, I could see his eyes dilating with panic. “Annie, what’s this about?” Ash stepped on my foot and I read his thoughts. Don’t say Dreamdrifter! “Annie,” Dad began. “It’s normal to have doubts about your future. Being unsure just means you’re still thinking and that’s good! You don’t have to stop just because you’re unsure.”
“I know what I want,” I said.
“And what’s that?” Dad asked.
“I want to help people.”
“So go to college,” Dad said. “Become a social worker or a psychologist. If psychology isn’t your thing, you can go into teaching or medicine. There are millions of ways to help people.”
“More than millions,” Ash added. “There are billions of ways to help people. In fact, there are about seven billion ways to help people.” He winked at me and I smiled back.
“The point is there are many,” Dad said. “And if you take some different subjects you’ll find the right one. You should stay in school, Annie.”
Dad’s intentions were good of course. He was logical, practical, moderate, reasonable and wrong. I had found my calling and I would stay true until it called me home.
“I will finish Adia’s course,” I said. “But then I’m done, I’m finished. I have my path.”
Dad considered me. He searched my face for signs of doubt. Luckily, I had none to show. Boliers took the opportunity to pour yet another glass of wine. Mom’s expression was disapproving but she remained silent. Ash watched me admiringly while Divion watched me curiously. Oscar chewed on a leftover rib.
Dad sighed. “Will you help people on this path?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Dad glanced at Ash. “And this is your path?”
I nodded. “It’s only mine.”
Dad nodded several times, although more to himself than me. He was coming around to the idea, feeling it out. When he spoke again he was serious. “Our offer stands to pay your tuition if you decide to return to college. It’s never too late for college.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, relief flooding me. “I won’t forget.”
The remainder of the evening trickled away peacefully. Dr. Boliers was nearly in need of a wheelchair by the time dessert was finished. Divion helped guide him through the cave. We all gathered there for the late evening goodbyes.
Ash shook Dad’s hand again. “Goodnight, Dr. McGallagher.”
“Good to meet you, Ash.”
Divion waved his farewell. “Bye, Annie. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon. Keep her safe, Ash.”
Ash nodded pointedly. “I intend to.”
Everyone except my parents walked out to the front drive. The summer night was a haze of beauty. Lightning bugs guided our path to the cars. Very fortunately, Divion and Boliers had driven together. They sped away into the night. Alone at last, Ash and I stared at each other for a second. And then we burst out laughing. Oscar barked loudly from around the fence. “Oscar!” I giggled. “It’s just us!”
Ash shook his head. “Dropping out of college to become a Dreamdrifter,” he said incredulously. “You’re a bad girl, Annie!” Taking my hand, he guided my eyes upward. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” he murmured. “But where’s the fisher boy?”
“Waiting for us to leave,” I whispered.
His eyes found mine in the moonlight. “You were amazing tonight,” Ash said. “Any doubts I had about you becoming a Dreamdrifter? Consider them dead!”
I smiled happily. “I absolutely will.”
He kissed me in the night. “I love you, Annie.”
“I love you too.”
That morning, I had awoken to a day like any other. Now I was a college dropout, a Dreamdrifter in training, and in love with a gorgeous boy. These revelations, rising from the depths of my subconscious mind, had reached the surface like my happiness awakening from a long and restless sleep.
9. The Newcomer
My dreamcatcher swayed, a feather skirted dancer in the evening breeze. The center beads reflected the light, sending shadows shimmering against the wall like droplets of water.
“It’s stunning,” Todd appreciated. “Wayfara made this?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “And I meant to ask him whether they work but I got distracted. Do they work?”
Todd’s knowing smile was cream. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “So?”
We were upstairs. The evening had grown around my room, its shadows rising from the depths of day. They tickled the windows, whispering warnings about the coming of night.
“You should ask a Dreamdrifter,” Todd said. “I’m not a Dreamdrifter.”
I thought for a second. “Are you Utopian?”
“You know,” he began, his smile growing wild over his face. “It’s strange what Ash has chosen to tell you and what he hasn’t.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Telling you about the Utopians was reckless.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I defended. “And he showed me more than told me, but are you going to show me? Are you a Utopian?”
“Of course!” Todd said, splashing me with cream.
His smile was infectious on my face. “Show me –”
; Closing his eyes, Todd gazed downward. Suddenly, enormous, velvety black wings appeared behind him, filling the room from wall to ceiling in their fully expanded form.
“Whoa, Todd!” I exclaimed. “They’re beautiful!”
“Thanks,” he said, ruffling his feathers in embarrassment. “But now I feel cramped in here. Wanna go for a walk?”
“You’ll have to put those away, you know,” I warned.
“That’s true, I guess,” he admitted. “Want to touch?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
His feathers were soft, but I was quickly distracted by something else. I could feel something running through the velvety blackness. Todd smiled at my awed expression. “Energy.”
“What?” I asked.
“Energy,” he repeated. “You’re feeling the current in my wings.”
I stared at my hand. “But how?”
“It’s a byproduct of manifestation,” Todd explained.
I caressed his glossy, black plumage, feeling the electricity in my fingertips. It felt magnificent, like a high that was rewiring my consciousness. It was lovely. It was addictive.
Downstairs, I grabbed Oscar’s leash. “We’re going for a walk, Oscar!” I called. My retriever came bounding in from the kitchen. He skidded to a halt in the cave, his tail wagging compulsively. After fastening Oscar’s collar, Todd and I walked outside. Looking over at Todd, I felt a sudden panic. “Todd! What are you doing?”
Todd was grinning like a rascal. Behind him, his twenty foot wing span filled the entire dirt road fully visible. The late evening sun illuminated his feathers. Todd shrugged his reply. “No one’s here.”
“Put them away,” I hissed. “You can’t! Most people don’t have wings!”
Sighing, Todd folded his wings away before vanishing them. We journeyed along the path leading away