Wysteria, page 20
“. . . You have a good mind,” said Jeremy, glancing up at him, “. . . good instincts, as well.” He nodded his head, as if in approval. “Perhaps we will talk about this some day.”
CHAPTER XX
It seemed that Will now had the ability to wake up at a pre-chosen location in Wysteria. The process was similar to the one he used in Creation – visualizing the intended site before he fell asleep.
His room in the castle (where he assumed the three of them would meet again) was a familiar setting and, thus, easy for him to envision. Tonight, when he climbed into bed, his plan was to return to there. But as he lay beneath the sheets, Will began wondering if it were possible to emerge in an unfamiliar place, perhaps even a place he’d never visited – for instance . . . , the other side of the ravine.
The notion intrigued him.
Though he hadn’t stepped foot on the opposite bank, he could imagine himself there, beholding the castle and falls from that side of the canyon. Would that be sufficient? Or could he guide himself only to locations where he’d previously stood – in the flesh? Perhaps only Memory could provide a clear enough picture.
With vivid, though imaginary, recollections filling his drowsy mind, Will drifted off to sleep.
* * *
When his consciousness returned, Will was standing on solid ground – on the other side of the gorge.
“Well . . . , it worked,” he said, somewhat surprised at where he found himself. For though he’d wondered whether he could land here, he hadn’t necessarily decided to try. . . . He was supposed to meet friends tonight.
He walked across the virgin ground to the edge of the chasm and, after a quick peek down, scanned the opposite side. He was certain that neither Emily, nor Jeremy, had yet arrived; but they would be coming soon.
“. . . How am I going to get over there?” he wondered.
He could probably Build a bridge – not here, but somewhere downstream, out of sight. . . . It would be long walk, though. From here, the southern bank of the canyon was visible for nearly a mile.
Will decided to wait until his friends turned up before making the trek. They might be able to Skip across and join him here.
“. . . In the meantime, I could do a little exploring,” he thought. The edge of the forest was only a hundred feet away. He could have a quick look and still stay in sight of the castle.
But after taking no more than a few steps toward the woods, Will stopped, sniffed the air, and spun around. Looking back across the gorge, he saw Emily walking across the outer grounds, heading toward the castle gate.
“Emily!” he cried, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the falls.
Hearing his call, she stopped and looked behind her. Will began waving his arms and was about to yell her name again, when she saw him. She stood for a moment, looking puzzled, but then smiled, waved, and ran over to the rim of the canyon.
“How did you get over there?” she shouted to him.
“I woke up here,” he answered.
“On purpose?” she asked.
“Well . . . , sort of,” he responded. “. . . Can you get across?”
“. . . I’m not sure,” said Emily. “I haven’t been there before, so I might get lost. . . . I suppose I could try.”
“Hold on,” he said. “Let me think for a minute.”
Will doubted he could Travel – Skip – across. He would have to enter the Blackness; and except for yesterday’s forced departure, he’d left his World only when it was time to wake up.
“What if I jumped?” he wondered, looking down at the river. “That should push me into the Dark.”
But then what? Without Emily’s guidance, he would probably return to his bed, sleepy or not. And he’d never been able to get back to his Dream World, once he’d woken up.
It wasn’t worth the attempt. (Which was just as well – he wasn’t particularly anxious to face another terrifying fall.)
There was another option – ‘Hopping’ over. Jeremy had taken them for a much longer ride in his World . . . , although Will had no idea how.
Emily had said that Dreamers Hop by “manipulating their Worlds”. However, as he understood it, all Worlds had an internal consistency. Perhaps being able to “fly”, as they had, was consistent with the “natural order” of things in Jeremy’s Realm. But not here. In Wysteria, such a flight would conflict with its logical structure.
. . . Or would it?
Will recalled Jeremy’s demonstration of “featherless flight” – blowing the blades of grass into the air. Perhaps his cryptic explanation was meant to be taken far more literally than Will had imagined. Had Jeremy simply Created a powerful (albeit, well-controlled) gust of wind, which then blew them to their destination?
If so, there was no “super-natural” force involved. In the Waking World, strong winds, such as tornados and hurricanes (natural occurrences), could easily launch people and vehicles – even entire houses – into the air (though, as a means of travel, it was certainly neither safe, nor reliable).
Will believed he could summon a wind powerful enough to propel him over the ravine. It would in no way contradict the fundamental Laws that governed his World. But could he control it?
“. . . Probably not,” he thought, chuckling as he pictured himself hurtling, head-over-heels, through a debris-filled sky.
He’d already gotten himself into trouble by following an impulse. There was no sense in compounding the problem. It was more prudent to do nothing until Jeremy got here, for he might have a simple solution. And yet, for some reason . . . .
“I’m going to try something,” he shouted to Emily. “You should probably move out of the way.”
She stepped a few yards to her right, then stood there, looking perplexed.
“Farther!” he said. “And be ready to run!”
Without questioning why, Emily complied, hurrying over to the nearest tree and taking refuge behind its trunk.
Will sent her a smile, then closed his eyes and focused his thoughts.
Within seconds, a light breeze stirred the air, and behind him, far in the distance, Will heard a soft but mounting roar. “It’s coming,” he thought.
He then felt the wind pressing against his back, gently, at first. But as the sound grew louder, the pressure increased, until soon, he had to brace himself to keep from being pushed off his feet.
Opening his eyes, he saw a few stray leaves skip along the ground and flutter down into the chasm. Will began to fear that he, too, might simply be driven over the edge.
A feeling of calm then passed through him. It was pointless to resist the force he’d summoned. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his arms and leapt upward, surrendering to the power of the wind, allowing it to take him.
As his feet left the ground, Will found himself sailing through the air, gaining altitude as he began to cross over the canyon. Traveling in a relatively upright position, he fixed his gaze forward, focusing his attention on the opposite bank where he hoped to land, while visualizing the trajectory that would carry him there.
At one point, however, he couldn’t help stealing a quick glance down. He gasped, and his body stiffened, causing him to lose his equilibrium and begin tumbling. Lifting his chin and waving his outstretched arms as if they were wings, he managed to steady himself, though he was now horizontal, flying head first.
He’d almost reached the other side, and the prospect of plunging into the gorge appeared to have passed. But now Will faced another problem – landing. He was still moving at a high rate of speed, and the wind continued to carry him higher.
His instinct was to calm the wind; and without hesitation, his World obliged. But as one natural force loosened its grip, another took hold of him. “Uh-oh,” he thought, as he began plummeting downward, now in the clutches of Gravity.
For a moment, Will considered reviving the wind, but given his speed and trajectory, it would only drive him into the trees beyond the open bank. Hitting the ground seemed inevitable.
“People do fall from great heights without being injured,” he reminded himself, trying not to panic (for no good would come of that). “The trick is the soft landing.”
Since his attempt to Build the bridge had failed, he reasoned he’d have no better luck Creating a parachute, pond, or huge pile of feathers. However . . . , what if the ground weren’t as hard as it appeared to be? What if it were actually soft, like foam rubber? Or resilient, like a trampoline? It wasn’t what one would normally assume – but it was possible. And if he could alter his assumptions . . . .
“I don’t need to change the firmness of the ground,” he told himself, “because it is soft – it’s always been soft.”
Will held on to this thought, imagining himself landing on the grassy surface and having it give beneath his weight. Then, trusting that his World would conform to his expectations, he relaxed and let go of his fear.
“Still,” he thought, “. . . it might be better not to land on my face.”
At the last possible moment, Will quickly twisted his head and body to one side, and struck the ground with the back of his right shoulder.
He felt an impact, but the ground did yield. His body did not punch through the surface, though (as it might, if it were a bog). The layer of sod remained intact, but sank, flexing downward, like a supple membrane with a void beneath it, absorbing the force of the collision. After cushioning his fall, it rebounded, tossing him back up into the air as it returned to its original position.
Will turned a complete somersault, then fell back to the earth (which was now quite solid), landing on his back and hitting the unforgiving ground with a thud. Fortunately, it was only a six-foot drop – uncomfortable, but not deadly.
“Oh my God!” cried Emily, laughing as she danced her way over to him. “That was crazy!”
“I’m glad it was entertaining,” he said, picking himself up and brushing the grass from his clothes and hair. “And I’m fine, by the way.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to appear more sympathetic (though continuing to laugh). “Are you ok, dear?”
Will nodded that he was.
“It certainly wasn’t as graceful as our flight with Jeremy,” he said.
“No, it wasn’t,” she replied, breaking into a fresh fit of laughter. “Especially that landing!”
“I guess it must have looked pretty comical,” he admitted.
“Did you plan it that way?” she asked him.
“. . . I intended everything that happened,” he answered, “but I really didn’t ‘plan’ any of it. It was just that kind of day – from the beginning.”
Will then described his morning to her.
“. . . Awfully impulsive – not really what I’d expect from you,” Emily remarked. “But here you are – still in one piece.”
Will then felt a strange tingling at the base of his skull. At the same time, he caught an earthy scent.
“Jeremy’s here,” he announced.
“Where?” she asked, looking around her.
“. . . There,” he said, staring up at the towering keep, where a dark figure stood on the balcony of his room.
“I see him,” she said.
Emily then turned to Will and asked whether they should go join him. Will was about to answer, when he noticed the solid human shape begin to fade.
“Hold on,” he said.
She shot a glance back up at the balcony, but by this time, the figure had disappeared completely.
“Did he go inside?” she asked.
“. . . No,” said Will, as a wispy column of smoke appeared a few feet away. “. . . He’s coming down.”
A moment later, Jeremy stood before them, clapping his hands together in slow applause. “Bravo!” he said.
“Did you see Will’s ‘jump’?” Emily asked him.
“Yes,” he replied. “I arrived just as he took off.”
“I guess I need more practice,” said Will.
“Yes,” Jeremy concurred, wearing a smile, “but it’s a promising start. The details will come . . . with time.”
Emily grinned at Will. “I think I’ll let you work out the kinks before I buy a ticket for that ride,” she said.
In response, Will pursed his lips and blew, producing a stiff puff of air, strong enough to push her backwards a step. Emily gasped in surprise as she caught her balance.
Jeremy laughed. “You’re learning,” he said.
They began walking, touring the grounds, Will and Emily a step behind Jeremy, waiting for him to set the agenda for today. After a few minutes, Jeremy stopped beneath the canopy of one of the trees.
“Lovely,” he remarked, gazing up into its rosy boughs.
He stepped over to the trunk and caressed it with slow, firm strokes, as one might pet a large animal. “What noble beings,” he said, “bridging the earth to the sky.” Then, giving it a solid pat, he took a seat on the grass.
“The way you moved down from the tower – that was Traveling, wasn’t it?” said Will, as he and Emily both sat down. “You didn’t ‘Hop’ – you disappeared completely, then reappeared.”
“Yes,” Jeremy replied. “Your leap over the ravine, like our flight yesterday, was Worldcraft. However, since this World is not mine, I Tunneled down.”
“Tunneled?” he said.
“Another term for ‘Skipping’,” Emily interjected. “Boys tend to call it ‘Tunneling’. It sounds . . . ‘manlier’, I guess. You know – digging in the ground, getting all dirty.”
“How about ‘Frolicking’?” Will suggested.
“Hmmm . . . , that is pretty cute,” she murmured.
“So . . . ,” said Will, addressing Jeremy, “you can’t ‘fly’ here, then?”
“No,” he said. “Not as we flew in my World. I cannot Alter the substance of this World or the rules that govern it. Only you can manipulate the environment here.
“. . . Of course, since I have the ability to Alter my body, I can affect the way in which the World interacts with me.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Will.
“If this were my World,” Jeremy explained, “I could command the wind to carry me down from the tower. Or I could change the structure of the air and float to the ground. . . . There are countless possibilities.
“Outside of my World, I must deal with things as I find them; but no matter where I am, my mind has some measure of control over my body.
“. . . I could have ‘flown’ down from the tower, Will, not by Altering the environment, but by Altering myself, making my body much lighter – nearly as light as the air here. Today, though, I chose another route – I left your World entirely then re-emerged in a different location.”
“Is it easier for you to Tunnel?” Emily asked him.
“Easier?” he said. “. . . It seems more direct, I suppose.”
“Is Altering one’s body a Building Skill, or a Traveling Skill?” Will asked.
“Neither,” he replied, “. . . or both. It is a Dreaming skill. Anyone can learn to manipulate his, or her, Dream Body.”
“You’ve told me that before,” said Emily, “but I can’t get the hang of it. Since it involves visualization, I think it’s easier – more natural – for a Builder.”
“Perhaps so,” Jeremy conceded.
“How is it done?” said Will. “I assume there’s a ‘technique’?”
“At one time or another, most people experience changes to their bodies in dreams,” he replied. “They may find themselves able to fly, or their bodies may become heavy and sluggish, making it difficult to run when pursued. And it is they who cause this to happen. Their bodies are responding to subconscious thoughts or feelings – elation, or fear and anxiety.
“It’s no different from any other form of Creation, though it can be more challenging. For one’s body image is deeply rooted and difficult to override. It requires confidence and composure . . . , as well as practice and patience,” he added, casting a glance at Emily. “But developing the Skill is well worth the effort . . . , for various reasons.”
Will was about to ask how a person goes about learning this Skill, when Emily spoke up, broaching a new subject. “You told me you began as a Builder and then later learned to Travel,” she said. “But when? Were you still . . . mortal?”
“No,” Jeremy answered. “It was not until I left the Waking World behind that I began to experiment with Traveling – though, at first, only within my own World. It seemed a convenient and efficient way to get from one place to another.
“Visiting other Worlds did not really occur to me. It certainly didn’t interest me. What was the point? I could Create any World that I wished for. . . . But I began to grow curious about the Dark Realm itself – what it was . . . , where it was. Rather than merely pass through it, I did my best to hover there as long as I could. It took some time . . . , but I had plenty of that. And, through trial and error, I finally found the Clew.
“I learned how to empty myself, to become profoundly still. Only for moments, but time is dense there – almost infinitely so. It was long enough to understand.
“Then, while within that uniform Emptiness, I noticed subtle fluctuations – ‘signals’ . . . , which, one day, I followed . . . and entered a foreign World.”
“. . . I see,” said Emily. “. . . But are there mortal Dreamers who are ‘ambidextrous’?”
“‘Ambidextrous’?” he repeated. “. . . A fine term, Emily. I shall remember that . . . .
“Yes, there are such mortals . . . , but they are extremely rare. Crafting and Traveling require different states of mind, and having an attachment to the Waking World greatly complicates things.”
“So,” she said, “it seems that Will is rather special.”
“. . . That he succeeded in leaving his World is encouraging,” said Jeremy, “but he needed your help . . . and mine. It’s still not certain that he’ll be able to Travel on his own.”
“Before you gave us the ‘push’ to get started,” said Will, “you mentioned something about waiting for us ‘with the door open’.”
