the dreamkeeper.

There are stories. There always are- to breathe life into ink, to spin language into tapestries of wonder and comfort- such is our way. It runs in our blood as much as we claim war, and anger does.

But there are stories. Children eat them up eagerly; whispers of stars and dreams dancing across the night-sky, just waiting to be bottled up and kept in a merry little satchel with silver bells strung across it.

The desperate, though… the desperate search for them. The desperate grasp at every winking firefly, follow each starlit path in hopes that it would lead them to peaceful sleep. There’s not much else to do for the lost plagued with dreams darker than pitch. Sometimes, it even works.

It worked for me, at least.

Did you know that there is something called the blue hour? In the hour before the sun fully rises, while the world stretches and begins to prepare itself for the coming day, reality hangs in balance with a thousand dreams.

The blue hour is when the world waits, with bated breath, for the sun to rise and burn away the wisps of the night. It was the perfect time for me.

I saw the stars not only above, but below. Liquid starlight glittered on the blades of grass, and collected on my shoes, on my fingertips, as I followed it. At the end of the path, they stood, waiting.

In retrospect, I should’ve been more worried about a random passerby standing in the middle of a forest with a strange satchel of glowing jars. But I think, by then, I was too tired to feel anything but a strange sort of relief.

They looked at me. I looked at them, and then I held out my hand, hoping that they’d understand.

I think that they did.

I don’t know what they did, in the end. All I know is that they took out a jar, a thousand little fireflies gleaming around me, and told me to sit, and finally rest.

When I woke back up, there was a little glass bottle loosely held in my hand with a note.

I still have both, by the way. The bottle, and the note. The bottle a promise for others to see, the note for myself. Because, you see, half the trouble is finding them the first time.

Once you find them, though, you can find them again, and again.

Who knows? Maybe others can follow your path too.

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