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    The Dreaming Place
    The Dreaming Place
    The Dreaming Place
    Ebook185 pages2 hours

    The Dreaming Place

    By Charles de Lint

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    About this ebook

    Nina and her cousin Ash don’t get along, but now have to share a room. Plagued by nightly dreams about becoming an animal, Nina fears that Ash, who dabbles in the occult, is responsible. More terrifying still, the nightmares start to invade Nina’s waking hours. But an ancient evil has marked one of them, and if either is going to survive they’ll have to stand united against the greater threat.

    One of the most original fantasy writers currently working.
    —Booklist

    This is a wonderful story, and highly recommended for young adults as well as adults.
    —Australian SF Online

    Charles de Lint has crafted a complex and engaging novel. De Lint, recognized as a poet as well as a novelist, almost always limns images rich in sensory detail. It is indeed remarkable how much relevant and fascinating detail de Lint has packed into a mere 138 pages... The writing is balanced and beautiful; the story is intricate and satisfying.
    —SFRA Newsletter, October 1991:

    This is another excellent urban fantasy from de Lint. The Dreaming Place is beautifully written, with appealing and believable characters inhabiting a slightly skewed universe that's on the edge of reality.
    —Locus Magazine, December 1990

    De Lint likes to explore the myths and legends of different ethnic groups, but he blends them so skillfully with 20th century life that the border between fantasy and reality blurs. He has a fine ear for dialogue and an eye for the details that give a story body.
    —The Ottawa Citizen, January 1991
    I think it's safe to say that Charles de Lint is the master of urban fantasy, a true groundbreaker in the field. With almost 50 novels behind him, he continues to take new strides in the contemporary fantasy field. While The Dreaming Place is actually not a new novel (the original Atheneum edition, with illustrations by Brian Froud, is long out of print), it helps introduce younger readers to his style of work without straying far from the content and themes of his other novels.
    Once again de Lint proves his ability to create engaging characters, this time focusing on young adults. He skillfully weaves mythology and folklore with believable conflicts, and continues to explore the theme of looking beyond yourself to help others. Nina and Ash's struggles are realistic ones that young adults can identify with; the setting of the otherworld serves to reinforce the inner landscape of their thoughts and feelings.
    —Rambles

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles de Lint
    Release dateFeb 5, 2016
    ISBN9780920623725
    The Dreaming Place
    Author

    Charles de Lint

    Charles de Lint and his wife, the artist MaryAnn Harris, live in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. His evocative novels, including Moonheart, Forests of the Heart, and The Onion Girl, have earned him a devoted following and critical acclaim as a master of contemporary magical fiction in the manner of storytellers like John Crowley, Jonathan Carroll, Alice Hoffman, Ray Bradbury, and Isabel Allende.

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      Book preview

      The Dreaming Place - Charles de Lint

      1

      Nina

      I didn’t see you at school today, Nina, Judy said. Were you sick?

      No. I just couldn’t go in.

      Well, I wish you’d tell me when you’re going to skip. I was looking for you all over. The Tank and her crew ended up sitting at my table for lunch and I could’ve just died.

      Why didn’t you just get up and leave?

      Why should I? I was there first. Besides, I thought you or Laurie’d show up to rescue me, only she wasn’t at school today either. How come you were playing hooky, anyway?

      I had another one of those dreams again last night, and I just couldn’t face going in.

      Judy giggled. What were you this time? An elephant?

      It’s not funny.

      "I know. I’m sorry. What were you this time?"

      A rabbit. One of those little miniature bunnies you see hanging out on the common by Butler U.

      If she looked between her sneakers, which were propped up on the windowsill, Nina Caraballo could see the ornate bell tower of Meggernie Hall from her bedroom window. It stood on University Hill, overlooking the campus and the park where last night she’d dreamed—

      Her body felt all wrong. Disproportionate. Her point of view was far too low, like she was lying on the grass, except she knew she was sitting up. Her peripheral vision was so broad she could almost see behind herself. Her nose kept twitching and she could smell everything out there in the night. Newly cut grass. The sweet pungency of the lilac bushes nearby. A fascinating odor that rose from a discarded candy wrapper.

      She started over to investigate it and fell all over herself in a tumble of limbs. Rear legs too long and awkward, front legs too short. A sound came from her throat that sounded far too much like the squeal of a pig for her liking. Lying there sprawled in the grass, she could have cried.

      Because she knew.

      This was another one of those horrible dreams.

      Clumsily, she righted herself and looked around. And found herself beginning to clean herself, licking at the soft fur of one shoulder with a pink tongue.

      She stopped, disgusted at the action.

      I want to wake up! she cried.

      The words came from her throat in another squeal.

      Followed by silence.

      But not a complete silence. Her long ears perked up as she heard rustling footsteps in the grass. She turned her head to see a massive shadowy shape approaching her cautiously from across the common.

      She froze, petrified with fear.

      It was a huge mastiff. A monster of a dog that she would have avoided even if she were in her own body.

      The mastiff paused when it realized she had noticed it. Through some quirk of her borrowed body’s eyesight, when it stopped moving, it became almost invisible to her. She stared harder, trying to make it out, heart thumping double-time in her tiny chest. The sweep of the lawn and the mastiff’s bulk all blurred into one indecipherable shadow.

      Until the dog charged her.

      Its growl froze her for long heartbeats more, then she bolted.

      Or tried to.

      Unaccustomed to the odd shape of her limbs and their correlation to each other, she went sprawling again. Before she could recover, the mastiff was rearing over her. Its jaws closed on her, capturing her tiny body, grinding bones against each other as it bit down on her flesh—

      And then I woke up, she said.

      Oh, that’s gross, Judy said. "Did you really feel yourself die? I’ve heard that if you die in a dream, you die for real."

      Nina shifted the phone receiver from one ear to the other. But that’s not the worst of it, she said. This time I’ve got proof that it’s Ashley who’s hexing me.

      Judy laughed nervously. "Come on. You can’t really believe that."

      I saw her, Nina said.

      She woke in her own bed, drenched in sweat and tangled up in her bedclothes. Her relief was immediate. The dreams might keep coming—once a week or so—but they were still only dreams.

      Not real.

      She hadn’t almost died out there in the common while trapped in the shape of an animal.

      Not really.

      But still. They seemed so real.

      She shivered with a sudden chill and thought she could see her breath for a moment. It was so cold you’d almost think it was still winter. She exhaled experimentally, but couldn’t really see her breath. The room seemed far warmer already, and she realized that her trembling chill was just a residue of her dream.

      Her stupid dream.

      Which wasn’t real. Everybody had dreams.

      She glanced across the bedroom then to see that her cousin’s bed was empty. Still shaking, she got up and shuffled across the floor, arms hugged around her thin chest, to look down the hallway that lay outside their room. At the far end of the short hall, the bathroom door stood open. The light was off. There was no one inside.

      It was past midnight, so why wasn’t Ashley in her bed?

      She tiptoed past her parents’ bedroom and crept down the stairs, avoiding the third and seventh steps, both of which she knew would creak alarmingly. Halfway down, she could make out a dim glow that was coming from the living room. Because her mother’s beaded curtain hung across the doorway, it wasn’t until she was directly outside the room that she could properly see in.

      There was Ashley, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fake mantelpiece. Her dyed black hair stood up three inches from the top of her head and hung in shagged layers down her back, and she was wearing one of her typical headbanger T-shirts—not her usual tight, torn ones, but an oversized Metallica shirt that she used as a nightgown. By the light of a candle that she’d placed on the end of the coffee table, she was reading a book. Nina couldn’t see the title, but she didn’t doubt it was one of those creepy black-magic books of which her cousin was so enamored.

      Sensing her presence, Ashley looked up, her gaze locking on Nina’s through the beaded curtain. A smile that was more a sneer touched her lips, and then she returned to her book, ignoring Nina’s presence.

      Nina fled back to their bedroom.

      But that doesn’t mean anything, Judy said. Just because she’s weird doesn’t mean she’s a witch.

      What else would she be doing down there in the dark? Nina wanted to know.

      You said she had a candle.

      That makes it even worse. Witches always use candles and stuff like that for their spells. I tell you, she’s hexing me. I looked through some of her books when I stayed home today, and they’re all about casting spells and awful things like that.

      She’s just trying to spook you, Judy said.

      Well, she’s doing a really good job.

      You should talk to her about it.

      Nina laughed unhappily. "I can’t talk to her about anything. And besides, if she’s not hexing me, she’d tell everybody and I wouldn’t be able to show my face outside the house ever again. I’d die if it got out."

      I won’t tell anyone.

      I know. But she would. Just for spite.

      Judy sighed on the other end of the line.

      Want to watch something on TV? she asked.

      Nina knew exactly what her friend was about. Time to change the subject. Not that she minded. She’d been thinking of nothing else all day long and she was sick to death of it. It made her feel like she was going crazy.

      Sure, she said.

      She got up from the chair by the window and slouched on her bed. Leaning over, she switched on the battered twelve-inch black-and-white that was on her night table.

      What’s on?

      "Beauty and the Beast started around ten minutes ago on three."

      Nina turned to the channel just in time to catch a commercial from one of the local car dealerships up on Highway 14. A fat man in an ill-fitting superhero costume was extolling the virtues of !!Hundreds of used cars at rock-bottom prices!!

      I hate this commercial, she said. Friendly Ed’s such a geek.

      Judy laughed. His kid’s in Susie’s English class, and she says he looks just like him.

      Poor kid.

      Because they lived across town from each other, tuning their TVs to the same channel and making comments to each other on the phone was the closest they could come to hanging out together on a school night.

      More ads—one for Diet Coke and one for tampons—finally gave way to the show, which had already begun.

      I’ve seen this one before, Nina said.

      Yeah, it’s one of the mushy ones.

      Did you ever wonder why Catherine doesn’t just go live down there with Vincent? I mean, it’s such a neat place. I’d live down there in a flash.

      I always wonder where they get their electricity.

      They both paused as the beast character recited a few lines of poetry.

      God, I love his voice, Judy said.

      Mmm.

      Are you going to the dance on Friday?

      I don’t think so. I don’t really feel up to that kind of thing this weekend.

      Judy laughed. Which means you didn’t get a date either. We could go together.

      And stand around like a couple of geeks, like they had at the last school dance, Nina thought.

      My dad says we make guys nervous because we’re too brainy, she said. Girls aren’t supposed to be good at math and stuff like that.

      What did you say to him?

      Nothing. My mum called him a pig.

      Good for her.

      He doesn’t really believe that, Nina added, defending her father. He was just telling me what guys think.

      So who needs ’em?

      Nina thought of the guy who sat in the back of the calculus class. Tim Lockley. To die for. But he never even gave her a second glance.

      I suppose, she said. Except—

      She broke off as she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was neither her mother’s light tread nor her father’s heavier one. I’ve gotta go, she said. Ashley just got in.

      She hated having Ashley listen in on her phone conversations. After a quick promise to be at school tomorrow, she hung up and gave the impression of giving the television her undivided attention.

      Ashley paused in the doorway of their room, decked out in all her gear. Tight faded jeans, torn at the knees. A Def Leppard T-shirt with the arms torn off. A leather jacket. Hair like a black lion’s mane haloing her head.

      I can’t believe you watch that garbage, she said.

      Nina looked up. What’s wrong with it?

      How long do you think that show’d last if the woman was the beast? Ashley replied.

      She took off her jacket and tossed it onto her bed and unselfconsciously began to take off the rest of her clothes—with the curtains on the window wide open so that anyone standing out on the common behind their house could get an eyeful.

      Which was probably just what she wanted, Nina thought.

      Well? Ashley asked.

      Nina’s only response was to turn up the volume on the TV.

      2

      Ash

      No matter what she was doing, there was always a core of anger in Ashley Enys. She’d overheard her aunt and uncle discussing it once. Their theory was that it stemmed from her mother’s death and her father’s refusal to take responsibility for her.

      What would be unnatural, her uncle had said, was if she wasn’t angry. She’s been uprooted from everything she knew. She feels that nobody wants her—that her mother deserted her, her father has no time for her, that we’ve just taken her in out of obligation. Who wouldn’t feel resentful in that kind of a situation? We just have to be patient with her, that’s all. She’ll grow out of it.

      It was a pretty theory, but Ash didn’t buy it for a moment. What did her aunt and uncle know, anyway? They were just a pair of burned-out hippies who refused to accept that the sixties were gone.

      Sure, it hurt that her father thought she was just so much useless baggage and didn’t want her hanging around cramping his style. And even though it had been three years now since her mum had died, she still missed her terribly. She couldn’t deny that she’d give anything to turn time back to that moment before her mother’s death, to return to when they were living together in their little flat in St. Ives, and she was going to her own school, hanging out with her own friends.

      It was getting so that she was losing her accent—and with it, she felt, her identity. Culturally, North America

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