jern. wrote:Is there a set end date?
There is a tree in the middle of a jungle. A tall, ancient tree with curling branches and roots knotted as an old mage's fingers, and in its winding boughs lies the lair of Mesha the Dream Maker. Some say she is a witch, but whatever her kind, Mesha is famed with the ability to create visions the like of which no dreamer has ever dreamed.
Whether her gifts are divine or conjured from the strange clouds of colored vapor billowing nightly from her secluded hideaway is unknown to all but the Dream Maker, all that is known is that those who breathe in those sweet-smelling clouds will have restful sleep and dreams so astonishingly beautiful, words fail to express what happened in them.
When Mesha ventures to the jungle's floor to gather supplies to fill her jingling glass vials, the remnants of previous nights' dream clouds still cling to her soft dark fleece. She makes small talk with the other Newtons as she goes about collecting this flower, that berry, a seemingly normal leaf. Her voice is whisper soft but welcoming as a cool pillow at the end of a difficult day. In that instant, Mesha could be any other Newton on the island, one that frolicked with her friends and pestered researchers for figs. But something draws her back to a secluded little hideaway in the twisted branches of an ancient tree.
Some say that the Dream Maker would die if she did not make dreams, that her fleece would fall out and her body would shrivel up until her dreamless little soul escaped between the cracks, but that is unknown.
All that is known is the shy Newton who needs aromatherapy to calm her overactive imagination that manifests itself in nightmares that remain even when she wakes.
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