If You Find Him In Your Head... Well, That Might be My Fault

So, I found myself dreamwalking last night. I must have slipped into the dream world before I fell asleep. Either that, or it is possible to sleepwalk while dreamwalking. Or… sleep-dreamwalk. Or whatever. I don’t know.

All I know is that one minute I was curled up by a very friendly fire, and the next, I was wandering the dark world of dreams.

I guess when you’re sleep-dreamwalking, you don’t have as much control, because I fell into someone’s dream almost immediately. It just opened up and I dropped in.

Let me tell you, I never want to end up in the dreams of someone like that again. It was disturbing. First of all, the sky was purple. I landed on something soft, but it wasn’t grass. I felt more like really long, thick fur. Fortunately, whatever it was did not seem to be alive.

While my eyes were trying to adjust to too much color and I was attempting to stand up on what was a really flimsy fur landscape, I noticed the inhabitant of the dream perched on a giant brass mushroom nearby. Or at least, I thought it was a mushroom, but it could have been a button.

He asked me where I’d come from and how I got here. I told him it was an accident and that I would leave him and his…. furry world…. promptly.

“No,” he said, sounding cheerful and interested, “I’d rather like to find out more about you. The name’s Breen. I’ve never had someone sneak into my dreams before. Can you teach me how to do it? It’d be awfully swell to be able to sneak around in people’s heads. Oh, the things I could do.”

Let me just say that he did not look like a trustworthy sort of person.

“Sorry,” I told him, “but you have to have a special kind of magic to dreamwalk. Really, I need to get going.”

“Well, don’t forget your shoes,” he said.

I stared at my boots dangling from his hands. How had he gotten them? When I reached for them, he gave a naughty chuckle and tossed them in the air. I lunged for them before they could fly off the edge.

I pulled them on my feet and immediately began assembling a mental bridge. The door was, as usual, out in the middle of nowhere beyond the edge of his dream. I staggered across the bridge toward the door and fell through.

I could hear the weird little dreamer laughing as I fell out of his head. And I think he said something about how his author would appreciate the feet... but I'm not sure.

I woke up that morning with two very terrifying discoveries.

First of all, when I pulled my boots off, I discovered that my feet were dyed a very distinctive, familiar shade of purple. I don’t know how that nasty little creature did it.

And secondly, and much more disturbingly, I realized that there is the slightest chance that I could possibly have left the door open.

Let’s just hope that what’s his name doesn’t figure out how to sneak out into the dream world before he wakes up.

Renard's Latest Antics

Well, Renard is still at it, securing his title as the naughtiest piskie ever to torment our world. Honestly, I'm getting more than just a little frustrated with him. He's even pranking me (his author)! This morning, my car was emitting an odd green smoke. Come to found out, Renard had filled the gas tank with poisoned dragon's liver. It didn't really harm the car, thankfully, but it did turn all of the foliage that the smoke hit a stark white. Oh, that Renard!

From the postcards that he has been sending me, I've a rough idea of some of Renard's latest antics. Among other things, he caused a caterpillar stampede in Vienna (don't ask), replaced the coffee at several large companies with a hair growth serum that he recently invented, and terrorized yet another university campus (he put up signs that read "free beer" in front of all of the dean's offices). And of course, Renard is still thoroughly angering Mal DaPone (the infamous magical mobster). This time, he put his magical adhesive inside the guns of all of Mal's men, so that when they shot people, they glued themselves to their victims. Mal is quite possibly the angriest that I have ever seen him.

Google called earlier yesterday, complaining that someone has been replacing their street view images with photos of gas station restrooms. They figure Renard is to blame, and I'm quite certain that they're right. Whatever am I to do about this disobedient piskie?!

Won't someone please, please, please catch Renard?

I've Been a Busy Piskie!

I've been having such a lot of hoonyburckle fun ever since I broke out of that tightly constraining story. Hee hee, oh wolly-golly-gladstone, what fun I've had! I figured out how to get into loads of other stories, and it has just been one merry escapade after another. I found my way into some story about a girl who has a pet dragon and gave her dragon hiccup-potion. Hee hee, betcha that critter's still bouncing up and down going "Hick-blurtch, hick-blurtch!" and sending out flames everywhere. Almost toasted my trousers, but it was worth it.

Then I found this other story with a big house that stuff moves around in. Nice girl lives there, Meggie or Maggie, or maybe her name was Matilda-Marlene -- anyhow, I dressed up this merry fellow she had living in her wall and put around a few surprises for her to find. She's got a neat pet, too -- some furry critter with real big ears. Been thinking maybe I might do something with 'em; you know, tie 'em in a knot, turn 'em green, something along those lines.

Oh, and what a load of sugarippidity fun I've been having with universities! Hee hee, those announcement systems were made for someone like me! Those students'll believe anything! I went to a college football game while I was at it; the game got a little dull, so I put a dizziness spell on all the players. Hee hee, that was the best game I ever watched!


Ooh, and guess what I did at a coupla colleges down in Florida . . . erased the transcripts of all the senior math and engineering majors! Then I changed a few classifications; you know, made some grad students into freshmen, altered the spring schedules a bunch of the kids are registered for . . . hee hee hee, that one was the best! Betcha those sports management majors are gonna be scratching their heads wondering why they signed up for advanced calculus, French literature, and underwater basket-weaving! I even signed up some home economics majors for nihilist philosophy! Then I played around with the teaching schedules for the professors, too! Ooh, I just can't wait to show up in the spring to glory in all the chaos!

Well sir, after all that fun yesterday, I just didn't know how to top it today. I mean, how do you rival kurgledoggle jokes like those? I figured I'd have me some more laughs mucking about in other people's stories, so I went down to my favorite spot in the world, the public library. There's always loads to do there! You know, use my magic adhesive to glue folks to bookshelves, set off fire alarms, turn the librarian into a goat for a little while . . . ah, the happy memories! Almost makes me tear up a bit; I'm sentimental that way sometimes. Well, I figured I'd go play in a classic for a while; they call 'em classics for a reason, you know. So, I broke into ole Mal DaPone's favorite novel, Moby Dick. You know, the story about that big fish or whale or whatever the critter is?

I was planning to trap the critter into a fishbowl, but then I had a better idea. I gave him a big ole bottle full of hair-growth serum. Hee hee, ever seen a hairy whale before? Boy did that critter splash about in fright! And that sea captain . . . well sir, he just isn't near as brave as folks may think. You'd think he never saw a whale with long, Rapunzel-like blond curls! Well, come to think of it, I guess most people haven't . . . hmm. Guess I judged him too harshly. Anyhow, the whale got sorta depressed about the whole business, wasn't having near the fun I was, so I got to feeling sorry for him. I mean, he was just too fat to pull off that look! So, I gave him some shrinking potion. Or at least, I meant to. In my defense, my pockets got awful wet from all that seawater, so how was I to help it if a few labels fell off of bottles? Anyhow, what I gave that whale was clearly not shrinking potion:

Oops.

Aw well, that big fish was getting kinda corny, after all these years. The novel needed a more exciting conclusion!

Hi-ho, time to go play with the United States Postal Service. Those folks could use a little stirring up . . . now whatever did I do with that hurricane-in-a-bottle that I used to have?

Okaaaayy...

Right. Sure. Sooooo....

I walk out of my room yesterday morning, having finally worked up the courage to try talking to the Green Man face thingie. Only one problem: The flippin' thing was gone! I asked Mrs. Davidson about it, and she doesn't remember ever seeing a carving there at all.

And today it just got weirder.... When I came out today, the face was back, but this time it was wearing a set of those funny face glasses, a santa hat, and hat a sign around its neck that said "I brake for squabbits."

There was an old food can sitting in the middle of the floor. Beans from Remelarde Farms, some where in France.... A can of French beans got into the middle of the floor under a weird face in a santa hat and funny glasses. I think I'm finally getting used to this.

I know people suggested that I talk to it, but I just couldn't keep a straight face with the nose and stuff. So, Reep and I are in the library now trying to find some more books about this Green Man....

TTYL,
Meg

Update on Renard

Since posting yesterday, I have been made aware of a host of recent shenanigans that all sound like Renard's handiwork:

1. Phone lines were rerouted throughout Virginia, West Virginia, and North Carolina, so that people who intended to call in sick to work accidentally reached gleeful telemarketing firms instead. There is an unsubstantiated rumor of similar occurrences taking place in Ohio.

2. Fourteen libraries have contacted me to report multiple novels that have apparently been cut in half, then stitched together with completely unrelated technical manuals. One library in Illinois left a message on my voicemail this morning, saying "Never before has Elizabeth Bennett turned down Mr. Darcy's first proposal, then learned how to correctly perform a lobotomy."

3. Several university professors have complained about mass emails being sent to students proclaiming yesterday to be "Topless Tuesday."

4. The Washington, D.C. metro system reports flocks of agitated pigeons being released inside several of their cars yesterday during the evening rush hour. This morning, New York City reports higher than average instances of pedestrians being targeted by pigeons.

5. An attempt was made to link all of the Lantern Hollow Press blogs to a Nigerian bank account.

Readers and Characters, I humbly apologize to all of you from the bottom of my heart for the trouble that Renard has caused, and continues to cause. I ought to have kept a much closer eye on him. I freely admit that it was owing to my own negligence that he escaped from his story.

URGENT!

Attention all characters:

I'm not certain how, but Renard Breen has escaped from his story and has gone rogue. I have no idea where he's gotten to, but this is very bad. Very, very bad.

Renard is not evil or malicious, but he is a piskie, and is not to be trusted. He enjoys pulling pranks, creating chaotic situations, and just messing up people's lives in small or large annoying ways. I don't believe him capable of causing deliberate serious injuries or deaths, but one can never be too certain with piskies.

Renard is about five foot six, has a slender physique, and appears to be between his mid-twenties to mid-thirties (actually, he's much older, but piskies hide their age well for the first hundred years or so). He has short reddish-brown hair and bright, amber-colored eyes. He is usually very jovial.

If you see Renard, approach him with caution. He's not dangerous, as I said before, but he is very quick and spry, not to mention creative and intelligent. He has a particular fondness for cream, so if you were to offer him a bowl of it, he might let his guard down enough to be caught. Renard is afraid of cats, so you might also be able to use that to your advantage.

Please help me catch Renard quickly! He's too much of a troublemaker to be allowed to remain on the loose.

Playing with Gangsters

I really miss Prohibition. I've said it once, and I'll say it again and again: Roosevelt spoiled my fun! Let's face it; the man is a complete killjoy. Prohibition was the best time of my life, and he ended it. What a sap!

I mean, it wasn't perfect of course. Admittedly, I did sorta keep getting into tight spots with Mal DaPone and his gang (mostly a bunch of humorless sidhe who snuck through the trans-Mavalarkkian portal when the guards were out to tea, but I suspect they've got a few other magical folk working for them as well). And Mal is not exactly a warm teddybear - he collects thumbs as a hobby, for one thing. Course, I always got away in the end, but there were a few near misses. I found the human gangsters out in Chicago to be much more fun.

You know that fella, what's-his-name, that guy with the fancy armored car and the sour mug; you know, the fella what celebrated Valentine's Day with a double-cross and a shoot-out? Al something-or-other (told you I was no good with names - I can remember magical folks pretty well, but those human names always trip me up). Anyhow, he was loads of fun to play with. Used to gum up his works all the time. I think I told you about the dingerlywhimsy fun I used to have changing the stuff in the bottles at speakeasies. Well sir, I had more fun than just that, let me tell you!

My favorite thing was to come up on gangsters about to mow one another down with their tommy guns. Just when they let 'em loose, I'd blink my eyes and twitch my nose, give a little tug at the ole adam's apple, and whisper a couple of words. Next thing you know, they're shooting each other with rat droppings. Hee hee hee, what a joke! Sometimes I'd use sheep manure instead. Took those thugs hours to scrub off that perfume, let me tell you. Sure did make them mad, too! Then off course I'd undo it before long, so they'd have real ammunition again. Used to make their bosses completely bamboozled; they'd yell and cuss about it, but never could figure out what had happened.

Boy, I really tormented that Al guy. Used to bewitch his alarm clock to sound like sirens or a firing squad or a female dragon in heat. You know, sorta give him a more effective wake up call. Well sir, he wasn't anywhere near as brave as folks give him credit for. Messed his pajama bottoms more than one morning, let me tell you! And screamed like Fay Wray (course, no one had heard her scream yet in those days, what with the talkies not being around yet)! I got him in trouble with the wife a few times, too - put a kissing spell on his razor so it'd leave blotches of lipstick on his face and neck when he shaved, hid a real flamboyant brassiere under her pillow twice (made sure it was bigger in a few respects than hers was, just to play with the old gal's confidence a bit), and even called up his vacation house a few times and talked with the wife in a real sultry female voice. Hee hee hee! Boy could she crown ole Al when she got her dander up!

Boy, I sure do miss Al. It was real sad when he got sloppy on the income tax and got himself pinched. I lost one of my favorite playthings that day.