The Conjurer's Charm - The Dream Catcher series (BOOK 1)

6.4 || The Conjurer ||

Alwold froze and watched him bug-eyed.

"Do what I did, and rise."

Alwold looked at his hands. He straightened his fingers and placed them beside his thighs. Slowly he rose, like a light balloon released to the air.

"Free your hands, redeemer," said Pnevan once Alwold soared right next to him. "Now look over there." Pnevan pointed to a distant tree. A Whitemare standing on its hind legs and fiddling with the branches seemed to glow vibrantly. A few more seconds and the Oneirospirit faded, disappearing into the tree.

"What just happened?" asked Alwold.

"To whomever that tree belongs, it is correct to say that he or she is dreaming right now. What you witnessed is simply the rudimentary process an Oneirospirit does to perfect the mind of the human, hence, causing him, or her to dream."

The branches of the tree switched places, glowing vibrantly. Some new leaves evolved while a few old ones fell off.

"I never really knew that things worked with this way," uttered Alwold.

"And now you know," Pnevan said gently.

"Don't they leave this dimension and go into the human bodies directly?"

"Oh no. They graze these fields all the time mending every uneven mind in this land. An everlasting job this is. The only reason why they will travel to the Morsphere is when they pity a mind, and they search for the human who carries a troubled state."

"How will they search?"

"It is one of the many mysteries that the Triverse has not yet allowed us to discover, that also being the most difficult job for the Oneirospirits. Because searching for a human with the mind that they are looking for is a time-consuming task. This is why the depressed and rage-filled take reasonably a long time to recover. Some never do, and some will."

"So these dreams and nightmares have a hard time finding people?"

"Precisely. But only Whitemares ever leave this dimension into the Morsphere."

"What happens when they do find the person?"

"They enter their spirit, and see the deepest feelings of the heart."

"The heart?"

"Not the fleshed organ. But the most treasured thing of any spirit in the Triverse. It's not an ability, but every spirit except the dead has it. Oneirospirits entering into these trees are only able to read the underlying thoughts, test their consciousness and evaluate the imagination of the mind, but never the deepest secrets and feelings and intentions of the heart, locked from everyone, and even from the most powerful Telepath of the world."

Alwold gazed at the sun illuminating the whole land below. The Whitemares gallivanted freely wherever they pleased and the moving trees kept moving, the immovable ones unmoving.

"Let us descend to the ground," Pnevan said softly and went down immediately.

Alwold while coming to the grass remembered the difficulties the dreams blessed him with, but now was unsure if they were torturous at all. He was sure a dream must've found him and seen the desires of his heart, which explains the dreams of his parents but didn't explain the unfathomable ghosts and hooded figures. Somehow, despite all the strife, a single dream had made him take a whole new twist of his life. Finally seeing where things were going, he faced Pnevan, a gloomy thought forming.

"What is this affliction anyway?"

Pnevan blinked. He withdrew his caressing from Pepekeko's head and looked more serious now. His eyes carried a dim glow that Alwold could tell his expression was grave.