Chatoyant College Book 7: Upon What Soil

Prologue: The Dream

The faeries were laughing at her.

They were watching her from above. All gathered around the table, eating and drinking their delicious food, and pausing to laugh at her.

She didn't understand why they were laughing at her. She didn't want to join them. She knew they were better than her, and she really didn't need to be with them. She would rather get away, be among her own kind.

But she was walking toward them, walking without moving, and that didn't make sense either. What were they doing to her?

Then she realized she was dreaming, and tried to wake up, dragging herself up out of the misty half-world of sleep. But that just made the faeries laugh harder.

She was still walking toward them.

She tried to pull back, to turn away, at the same time realizing that she was asleep in her bed, her blanket kicked to the bottom and her sheet twisted around her. They were above her because they were a poster on her wall. But she was still walking toward them.

She reached the table, though her feet didn't move. The faerie creatures, with their different animal faces, many different parts, were laughing still, but now they were smiling too, and their laughter seemed gentle, welcoming. One of them pulled out a chair for her, and she sat.

They set a plate in front of her. A goblet. They served her from their dishes—grapes and peaches, roasts and breads, wine and butter. It heaped up on the plate in front of her and it was all so beautiful. It made her mouth water. But she couldn't lift her hands.

She still knew she was dreaming. She tried to tell herself that it was only dream faerie food. It wouldn't hurt her. And the faeries were so kind, so happy to have her there. They told her to eat. They kept offering her more food. But she couldn't feed herself. Her hands sat like lead weights on her lap.

She tried to tell them, but when she opened her mouth, it was as dry and dust and all that came out of it was a rusty, rasping sound. She was so thirsty. If only she could drink some of their wine.

It was a dream. She knew it was a dream and yet it was not. She was lying in bed staring up at her poster and she was sitting at the table being plied with food.

It was a dream and she was not going to wake up.