Dream Magic: Awakenings

by Harshaw, Dawn

  Eric's eyes were still on the goblin, and if he had his full mental faculties, he would have found it interesting how the goblin's grimace changed in slow motion.

  This state, being so much in the moment to be absent from it, was not without limitations - Eric's trance was slowly fading.

  The goblin appeared to be suspended mid-charge and couldn't have changed its path even if it wanted to. It was clear to Eric where the goblin's steps would land and when its crude sword would come down.

  The moment was gone. Eric sidestepped, avoided the slash, and whacked the goblin just above the neck.

  Eric felt the bone break and the skull crush under the hilt of his sword. He noticed the goblin's battle yell only when it turned into a cry of pain. The goblin's body turned into crimson smoke, leaving behind a smell of blood and perspiration.

  Eric raised his sword as part of an impromptu victory dance.

  "I did it! I did it! I di-"

  The next thing he felt was his own skull being bashed in; shattered bits and bone pieces splashing not only his brain out but also his sense of self. There was no time for pain.

  * * *

  "I see her!" Eric yelled.

  After reappearing in a grove behind the hill, Eric thought it would be best if he stopped the heroics and sought out Rose and Lucy.

  "Where?" Rose yelled back.

  Eric found Rose quickly. He noticed a large empty space in the middle of the densely packed battle, marked by flying and falling goblins. Rose stood in its center, flinging airballs.

  With many goblins around, she would let an airball grow bigger and more volatile. It would knock back and disorient a group of goblins, so others could step in and finish them off. When she needed precision, she would keep the spell more tightly together, so it would lift up and blast away a single goblin.

  She's too reckless, Eric thought when he first saw her fight. She's wielding that flimsy wand well, but she's isolating herself by pushing too deep into enemy territory.

  Eric did not deem it necessary to share this observation, but judging by how easy it was to persuade Rose to regroup, she must have come to a similar conclusion too.

  "Over there!" Eric yelled.

  The two of them were running towards Lucy, hopping sideways at times to avoid a friendly spell or a carelessly charging kid, and occasionally dispatching a daring goblin.

  Every so often Eric rubbed the back of his head, subconsciously making sure the memory remained only a memory. I have to be more careful. Each time the nerves in his hand reported a sensation of an uninjured familiar head, Eric exhaled in relief.

  It was easier to catch sight of Lucy as they managed to come closer. She was waving her staff without pause: shards of earth rose up one after the other, flew out, and hit their targets. Some goblins got knocked down and remained there, others turned into purplish mist and disappeared.

  Eric could see a larger contingent of goblin reinforcements closing in on Lucy's location. They used their swords and shields to deflect her projectiles - with variable success.

  "Hurry, she needs help!" Eric shouted.

  "I'm right behind you!"

  Getting killed by an assailant he could barely see sapped Eric's confidence, but having Rose at his side and the prospect of joining Lucy reassured him. We'll finally fight as a team!

  Also, having his skull smashed in before, he knew what to expect from the worst case scenario, and it wasn't as terrifying as before. Moments of death are not as bad as the stress of fearing the unknown.

  Eric was starting to enjoy the battle and treat it more as a game - that's what the goblins were doing, in their crude and grunting way. They revel in it.

  As much as he loved swords, sticking to mid-range fireballing seemed more prudent than engaging in melee. Better not risk a trip back from the grove.

  The goblin group nearly reached Lucy, and seeing there were too many for her to take on alone, she erected an earthen barrier in front of her. The goblins charged.

  Eric kept running. He threw a fireball at a lone goblin in his way, and was considering what course of action to take. The fireball hit, and the goblin evaporated along with the flames.

  "Cover me!" Eric shouted to Rose.

  The first goblin reached Lucy's shield and gave it a big whack - the shield held.

  More goblins arrived and started hammering. A few of them went around, trying to get to Lucy where the barrier was not yet up. Rose's airball made one of them involuntarily airborne, while another got smitten by Lucy's staff.

  Lucy managed to complete the shield, which covered her like an earthen bubble and hid her from view. Parts of the shield cracked under the goblins' assault, but Lucy reinforced the damaged parts as soon as she could.

  Rose kept hurling airballs, some missing completely, and some serving only as a distraction. "What the hell are you doing?!" She shouted to Eric.

  "I'll take care of them, just hold a little longer!"

  Eric formed a fireball in his hand, trying to make the improved version he practiced before. He had no staff this time, but he knew what to concentrate on. Keep the clean energy separate. Rotate, push more fire and keep it stable.

  Instead of throwing the fireball, Eric rushed ahead while holding it in his hand. I can't afford to miss!

  "Lucy, strengthen the top!" He barked, unsure if she would hear.

  Eric launched into the air, avoiding half a dozen enraged goblins and aiming to come down on top of the protective bubble.

  He loosened the rotations and pushed more fire into the ball, which exploded as soon as it made contact with the shield. The blast traveled along the edge of the shield, catching the goblins in the face.

  The fire disintegrated all surrounding goblins, except one who just lay there groaning. Lucy walked to the goblin, and slammed down with her staff. This goblin puffed away too; a breeze carrying away the reddish smoke along with the earthy remains of the shield.

  The blast didn't burn Eric much - it was his fire after all - but inhaling the heated air hurt. Crashing down through Lucy's shield and twisting an arm in the fall hurt even more.

  "Come on!"

  Lucy grabbed Eric's other arm and started dragging him back. He stumbled after her while Rose covered their retreat.

  Upon reaching friendlier territory, they stopped and slumped to the ground. All of them were breathing heavily. Eric was singed - his face charred and his hairstyle peculiar.

  "What a suicidal rescue," Lucy remarked with weary smile.

  Rose drew Lucy close in a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. "You're the suicidal one."

  "What about me?" Eric asked.

  "You are too," Rose said.

  "No, don't I get-"

  "Blehh," Rose pinched her nose and leaned away. "You smell like a burnt pig; I'm not going anywhere near you."

  Eric slanted his lips. "Raincheck, then?"

  "Maybe."

  Eric closed his eyes. A battlefield wasn't the best place to rest, but even a moment's respite was welcome. Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out... He felt the ache in his arm, throbbing with pain to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He tried to put the pain out of his mind, and for a moment, just BE...

  Suddenly, Lucy jumped to her feet. "Incoming!"

  Chapter 14 - Healing

  Before there was light, there was touch.

  Mages prefer sight; but touch is close and sight is distant. A healer has to know when to turn one into the other.

  - Sense and Comprehension,

  Dreamer's Handbook

  Healing magic is in a unique position among the magical disciplines, as it has an additional, broader objective: to unify all the magical disciplines.

  Skilled shamans, elementalists, symbol-weavers and other mages who insist on maintaining their human identities access the depths through compartmentalization and rely on selective knowledge as well as trained intuition to stay reasonably balanced. Healers operating at those depths do not have such luxury: they do not derive
their skills from what they know, but from who they are.

  - Magic Beyond Magic,

  Dreamer's Handbook

  "Pull the dagger out."

  Rose shook her head. "I'd rather not. What if I mess up?"

  Maeve turned to Eric. "You do it then." Maeve's hand rested on the patient's chest, almost touching the dagger that was lodged firmly in the boy's ribcage.

  Eric gulped.

  The wounded boy was floating above the ground, resting on nothing but thin air. His body convulsed now and then, following the rhythm of his quiet sobs.

  "I... I don't think I can do it," Eric said.

  A faint frown ran through Maeve's face.

  "May I?" Lucy asked.

  Maeve nodded. She withdrew her hand and stepped back. "Go ahead."

  "Do I just yank it out?"

  "Yes, just pull straight up."

  Lucy approached and placed both hands on the hilt of the dagger. She took several deep breaths.

  The dagger was of the same crude workmanship Eric saw goblins carry and use in battle. Uneven, possibly rusted blade, with a dirty and deformed handle. He could almost smell the unwashed odor.

  "Go ahead," Maeve repeated, encouraging.

  Lucy flexed her fingers, tightened her grip on the dagger as much as she could, and gave it a big yank. The dagger dislodged and shot out effortlessly under her guiding hands.

  Lucy smiled in relief, but her smile turned into bewilderment as she watched the dagger turn into mist and reappear lodged deeply in the boy's chest.

  "What... how-" Lucy muttered.

  When the boy noticed the removed dagger reappear in his chest, his distant and resigned sobbing turned into manic crying. "Get it out! Get it out of me! Get it out! Get-" His body rocked violently back and forth as he tried to get up.

  Lucy backpedaled.

  Maeve acted swiftly: she moved in and placed one hand on the boy's brow. "That's right, just go to sleep." The wailing and the body-jerks stopped. With her other hand she yanked out the dagger and tossed it away in one swift motion - it didn't reappear.

  Caressing, she drew her hand across the bloodied wound. The blood went away, and the t-shirt no longer showed tearing; Eric presumed the wound healed as well.

  "There... No need to make a fuss. Just rest," Maeve said to the sleeping, floating boy. She drew one hand across his hair, and made an intricate hand gesture with the other. The boy vanished - not in reddish smoke, as defeated combatants did, but with the stretching, perspective-changing motions of a teleportation spell. Eric silently congratulated himself for spotting the difference.

  "Fear of death and nightmarish clinging to life often produce a deformed ego-image. With time he would get rid of the blade on his own, but not before going through a valley of shadows of his own creation. Such a complex problem for a simple solution..."

  * * *

  After battling the goblin warriors, Eric expected the battlefield to be littered with dead bodies.

  "The first three levels of healing are very similar, and they are, in order: prevention, patience, and preparation."

  "Prevention is about not getting into a situation that would require healing in the first place. Avoid the speeding car and you won't get hit by it - easy, right?"

  Eric understood early on in his life the difference between movie violence and real-life violence.

  He remembered being whisked away from the site of an accident several years ago. Although he didn't see much, the image of the crushed car remained with him, and the concerned, frightened looks on the adults' faces made a lasting impression.

  What he didn't get is why adults seemed to shelter themselves even from the idea of violence, only to revere it from a distance. Mortality and fear and pressures and thresholds... Eric caressed the back of his head. I should've paid more attention to war documentaries on tv.

  "Time does not heal all wounds, but when time can heal a wound, patience helps you get there."

  "Healing through preparation is mostly about making sure you give your body and subconscious the space it needs to restore itself - be it physical, emotional, mental, or any other kind of space. Rest, sleep, cut back on regular activities, and actively do nothing."

  Instead of corpses, broken-off weapon and armor pieces lay littered on trampled grass. There were no dead bodies, but there were casualties: sometimes instead of reappearing at the glade, the wounded remained on the battlefield, lying in shock and pain. Dream violence was more emotional than tv violence, but its results less permanent than real-life violence.

  "Next in depth is a trifecta of reinforcements: external, mental, and emotional. Healer-specialists operate at these depths."

  "Doctors excel at external reinforcement - give a pill, excise a tumor, place a bandage - but they mostly focus on the dis-ease instead of the patient."

  Eric, Lucy, and Rose kept up with Maeve's steady pace, walking across the battlefield to help the wounded. Most of them needed only reassurance that everything is going to be all right. Others just needed rest after the exhausting battle. Of course, there were exceptions, like the boy with the dagger in his chest.

  "Mental reinforcement involves clarifying the mind, improving mind-body feedback, integrating the conscious and subconscious closer together, and so on... Psychologists seek to carve out logic from these depths."

  "The goal of emotional reinforcement is to bring forth happiness and spiritual fulfillment. Choiceful action is preferable over unwilled reaction, but there has to be balance between being ruled by emotions and suppressing them with frigid discipline. For emotional reinforcement, there is rarely a better healer than a trusted friend."

  There was also the girl with the wide gash on her upper leg - Eric didn't think he ever saw a person bleed so profusely. Right out of a horror movie. Maeve said she had control issues. They helped bandage the wound - it was weird with all the blood gushing around Eric's fingers - but it stopped soon afterwards and the wound healed fast.

  "Going even deeper, we step into the domain of values, codes and attitudes - those things that knowingly or not, shape the core of a personality. There are no healer-specialists at this level, since it's no longer about fixing a broken part, but about deciding which 'whole' to realize. Symbolists occasionally dip down here to find and form archetypes."

  And of course! There was also the kid with the severed arm. He walked calmly up to Maeve, carrying his severed arm in his other hand. In his head, Eric knew this was supposed to be scary and worrying, but after all that blood, the situation seemed morbidly funny rather than serious. Must be a mild shock. That boy healed quickly too - the three of them held the arm in place until it got reattached. There remained no marks of the injury and the boy regained full movement in his arm and fingers.

  "Language becomes increasingly useless as we go deeper."

  Then there was the berserker kid who chased others with an ax in his hand and a senseless glare on his face. Maeve handled this one on her own: she 'ported after the kid, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and made him collapse immediately. These things happen, Maeve said.

  "We can talk about identity boundaries, identity contexts, core patterns and core integrals, but the dissonance between experience and verbal thought grows wider. The pressures of the collective subconscious become more obvious, and memetic motions more pronounced."

  The goblins had casualties too, and they carried away their own. In few occasions, Eric thought he saw Mr. Smith finish off or heal goblins. I'm not sure which, maybe both.

  Eric listened to Maeve's droning with only half his mind. They walked across the field at a leisurely pace, looking if they missed anyone still needing help. Maeve used this time to expound on the basic theories of healing magic.

  "Going even deeper with a relatively fixed perception of self-individuality triggers the Hall of Mirrors experience. Horrid things can happen; it's not that you can get lost, but that it's so easy to lose yourself. If you become an NPC, you'll have to wait for someone to stare i
nto the abyss so you can look back. There are generally two ways out from the Hall of Mirrors: escape back any way you can and forget you were ever there, or go through."

  In Eric's experience, all teachers had the tendency to talk on and on about topics they liked and understood, and often forgot they were supposed to be talking to someone other than themselves. Even if they caught themselves going off tangents, many of them wouldn't - or couldn't - change course. They don't get that the mindset of learning is different from the mindset of having learned. Some teachers were plain incompetent: How does one learn about history by memorizing dates?

  "I can't tell you much about going through; this 'me' that's talking to you doesn't know. Your individuality shatters, the anthropomorphism of your identity dissolves, maybe even taking with it whatever context the elementality of the realm offered you."

  The teachers in Dream Camp were nowhere near as bad, but Eric felt they tended to talk over their students' heads - like Maeve did now. What Eric wasn't sure about is if they were doing it on purpose. He could feel the pressure of her words, prodding at his mind.

  Sometimes, when he tried too hard to understand something, he would understand some small part and skip out on all the rest. Of course, when he didn't try at all, he understood nothing.

  But, somewhere in between, when he didn't try too hard to control his own mind, he wouldn't get much of it at first, but after sleeping on it and thinking about related stuff, it was easier for all to just 'click'. Like, if I just let it, my mind does most of the thinking for me, and I can just pick off the ripe fruit from the low-hanging branch.

  He hoped this was one of those times - he just let his thoughts loose and hoped all that complex theory would make sense later.

  "Mystics say it's all a big circle; massive regeneration, rebirthing or ressurrective capabilities are the boons of master healers and archmages - they are experts of what we call 'doing nothing'."

  "They also say a society is advanced only if the collective subconscious is purified and reintegrated with the individual. Humanity has much shit to clean up, and most of it will fall on you..."