Dream a Little Dream by Piers Anthony Page A

were covered in white blossoms that matched the color of her milky eyes. She resembled one of Nola’s dream nymphs exactly.
    She approached Spirit and looked up at Nola, who felt so small and delicate from atop Spirit’s huge body.
    “Creator,” she said sweetly, “why are you going this way?”
    “Madrid told us that we must,” Nola replied, somehow not surprised to be recognized in this manner. Mich had known her immediately, on Earth, and Heat had recognized her nature in Kafka. Apparently there was something about her, and it wasn’t the constrictive dress.
    “But, Creator, there is no need.”
    “But the map says that we have to fly through the Forget Mists across the sea to some island where we are supposed to meet someone who can help us.”

    The little nymph laughed musically and her eyes shone bright with mirth. “Dear girl! I am the one who is to meet you. Don’t you know you can never go into the mists? You would be Forgotten! If that happened,” she spread her hands, “this wonderful world would be gone.”
    “Well, what do we do?” Nola asked, uncertain whether it was wise to go against the sorceress’s instructions on the word of a stranger. Yet this was definitely a nymph of the type she had dreamed of. Maybe Mich had misunderstood the note.
    The nymph stroked Snort’s neck and looked thoughtful. “Madrid sent you to me because we know the ways of dreamstone. Our ancestors mined it from the land. However, we are not sure ourselves how to deal with such a problem.”
    Snort was enjoying her caresses and didn’t hide it. The small dragon was now rolling onto his back like a kitten. Nola already knew that though Snort loved attention, he was choosy about whom it came from. The nymph must be all right.
    “You understand,” the nymph continued, “that dreamstone is indestructible.”
    Mich was becoming impatient. “Of course we know that! What do we do, then? Is there some other way we can let the river flow freely again?”
    “There is a way, but it is so very difficult. The human girl must destroy the dam herself.” The nymph turned her white eyes to look at Nola. “She must disbelieve the stone.”
    The group looked at one another. “But how?” Nola pleaded. “How can I disbelieve what plainly exists?”
    “As I’ve said, it is difficult. There are others who dream of dreamstone and one type is even linked to the great dragon, Kafka himself, and cannot be destroyed by anyone, living or not. I believe you wear such a stone. We are doomed if the dam is made of this type. But if it is ordinary dreamstone, you can do it. You must simply not believe it exists. Or, even better, Forget it.”

    “Do you have an idea what type it is made of?” Mich asked.
    “No one knows because no one has ever even seen it. It is located at the source. No one can find it, let alone destroy it.”
    “We will handle it,” Nola said optimistically, though inside she was trying to digest a bolus of doubt. “Just tell us how to reach the source.” Yet, paradoxically, she felt suddenly strong. She figured that she was responsible for the rescue of this vast world and she had better get some control of the situation.
    “Just follow the river. There is one area, past the Shattered-Glass Glade, where you can reach the source by sleeping in the river. It is guarded by a winged hippocampus. Just utter my name before you enter the water and it will leave you alone.”
    “But you haven’t told us your name,” Nola protested.
    “You did not ask.”
    Nola took a deep breath. “What is your name?”
    The nymph smiled. “My name is Violet.”
    Then, for a moment, the little nymph had a look of confusion on her pretty face as if she was forgetting something. The moment passed and her face returned to its bright state. She curtsied and prepared to leave. But then paused. “By the way, in respect for Kafkian security, if or when you return to this side of Kafka, you will forget the location of the gateway to