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Dream Market
Stepping around roots that grew like fingers from the ground, I make my way towards the Morphing Alley. The air is cold and fighting the encroaching spring with all its might. The sky is overcast and has stained everything beneath it with its signature gray. Everything feels dull, almost unreal under its expansive cover, all the colors swallowed up and made into something flatter and sad to behold. All except for the Tree, which I am overjoyed to see is here to greet me. It isn't always here on the days I go to find it, but today it is here with its startlingly red leaves and white bark being the only things that seem to defy the overcast quality of the day and seem truly real.
The breeze barely ruffles the leaves, but still has enough winter clinging to it to send a chill down my spine and sent me hurrying up to the expanse of the Tree's trunk. For I a moment I stop and breathe in the rich smell of earth and dead leaves before I find the seam in the Tree's bark and pull open my entrance into the Morphing Alley. Once I’m inside I look back to watch as the entrance seals behind me like the door had never existed. I don’t worry, it will open again when I’m ready to leave. I strike forward upon the stairs that lead inwards and away from the cold woods behind me. As I make my way further along the way the stairs slowly shift from wood to smooth stones and the way widens until I come out at the entrance to the Alley itself.
I can already feel my spirits lifting with the sounds and smells coming from the alley but I don't rush in to explore. Instead I stop at the marble lion standing sentry outside. He is old and shows age in the lichens who have started to make his solid form their home. I worry that he may have forgotten me, because it's been so long since I was last able to visit the alley. But when I crouch down and run my hands through his thick mane, reveling in its softness and when I feel a snuffling hot breath on hands I am reassured he still remembers me. When I step back he is stone once more, ready to greet any other visitors and make sure of their intentions. I move into the alley proper and leave him to his duty.
It has changed, but that never surprises me. It's called the Morphing Alley for a reason and it is the same in the ways that matter to me. The last time I was here, it was light by a battalion of floating lanterns that looked like they were made from blue spun sugar; they made the air shimmer like the entire market was underwater. Today the rafters are strung with thousands of strands of fairy lights that help to wash away the remnants of the grey day that still clung to me. Everything is warmly lit and colored in shades of red and orange as if they are trying to reclaim the glory days of autumn.
I begin to spot familiar faces in the crowd, they wave to me and I wave back sometimes stopping to converse with them and see if they have anything new. The market isn’t normal, but that’s obvious. They sell things that can’t exist outside of the market. They’re all beautiful ephemeral things that become a part of you, and stay with you even after you leave in some form or another. Once I bought a bag of cinnamon candies from a stall that I haven’t seen since that day and every once in a while I will wake up with the nostalgic taste of cinnamon lingering on the tip of my tongue.
Eventually, as I wander the market I spot two familiar faces who beckon me over with wide smiles and excitement in their eyes. Melas and Onei are the first friends I made in the market. Melas is dark and troublesome in his nature, he crafts dark dreams that make people wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Onei tempers that with the sweeter dreams that are spun from light. Their dreams aren’t the vitally important ones, but they still evoke deep emotions and they are proud of their craft.
They embrace me and whisper that there is someone new in the market today, someone like me with wide eyes who had passed the lion’s test to enter. It isn’t often that a dreamer comes to the market when they’re awake, the entrances are hard to find and the gates are not always so easy to pass through. For years I’ve been the only one to see the market with waking eyes. Onei presses a kiss to my forehead and tells me to go find them, so I can share this place with someone else. Melas nods, eyes dark with stars and with a mischievous smile that says they know something I don’t.
Something is changing.
Now, with their words carrying me I do not wander aimlessly, instead I hurry with purpose. I’ve been alone for so long. Ahead I spot a form wearing clothes that aren’t spun from spiderwebs or anything fantastic and my heart is in my throat. Once I reach them, all my words die as they turn and face me with that same look of surprise that I know is on my own face. We are not alone.
The breeze barely ruffles the leaves, but still has enough winter clinging to it to send a chill down my spine and sent me hurrying up to the expanse of the Tree's trunk. For I a moment I stop and breathe in the rich smell of earth and dead leaves before I find the seam in the Tree's bark and pull open my entrance into the Morphing Alley. Once I’m inside I look back to watch as the entrance seals behind me like the door had never existed. I don’t worry, it will open again when I’m ready to leave. I strike forward upon the stairs that lead inwards and away from the cold woods behind me. As I make my way further along the way the stairs slowly shift from wood to smooth stones and the way widens until I come out at the entrance to the Alley itself.
I can already feel my spirits lifting with the sounds and smells coming from the alley but I don't rush in to explore. Instead I stop at the marble lion standing sentry outside. He is old and shows age in the lichens who have started to make his solid form their home. I worry that he may have forgotten me, because it's been so long since I was last able to visit the alley. But when I crouch down and run my hands through his thick mane, reveling in its softness and when I feel a snuffling hot breath on hands I am reassured he still remembers me. When I step back he is stone once more, ready to greet any other visitors and make sure of their intentions. I move into the alley proper and leave him to his duty.
It has changed, but that never surprises me. It's called the Morphing Alley for a reason and it is the same in the ways that matter to me. The last time I was here, it was light by a battalion of floating lanterns that looked like they were made from blue spun sugar; they made the air shimmer like the entire market was underwater. Today the rafters are strung with thousands of strands of fairy lights that help to wash away the remnants of the grey day that still clung to me. Everything is warmly lit and colored in shades of red and orange as if they are trying to reclaim the glory days of autumn.
I begin to spot familiar faces in the crowd, they wave to me and I wave back sometimes stopping to converse with them and see if they have anything new. The market isn’t normal, but that’s obvious. They sell things that can’t exist outside of the market. They’re all beautiful ephemeral things that become a part of you, and stay with you even after you leave in some form or another. Once I bought a bag of cinnamon candies from a stall that I haven’t seen since that day and every once in a while I will wake up with the nostalgic taste of cinnamon lingering on the tip of my tongue.
Eventually, as I wander the market I spot two familiar faces who beckon me over with wide smiles and excitement in their eyes. Melas and Onei are the first friends I made in the market. Melas is dark and troublesome in his nature, he crafts dark dreams that make people wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Onei tempers that with the sweeter dreams that are spun from light. Their dreams aren’t the vitally important ones, but they still evoke deep emotions and they are proud of their craft.
They embrace me and whisper that there is someone new in the market today, someone like me with wide eyes who had passed the lion’s test to enter. It isn’t often that a dreamer comes to the market when they’re awake, the entrances are hard to find and the gates are not always so easy to pass through. For years I’ve been the only one to see the market with waking eyes. Onei presses a kiss to my forehead and tells me to go find them, so I can share this place with someone else. Melas nods, eyes dark with stars and with a mischievous smile that says they know something I don’t.
Something is changing.
Now, with their words carrying me I do not wander aimlessly, instead I hurry with purpose. I’ve been alone for so long. Ahead I spot a form wearing clothes that aren’t spun from spiderwebs or anything fantastic and my heart is in my throat. Once I reach them, all my words die as they turn and face me with that same look of surprise that I know is on my own face. We are not alone.