A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 13: Welcome to Grassland

I'm wrapped in a cocoon, warm and gentle. But there are also cool wisps, and I'm lying on wisps of gentleness.

"You think she can hear us?"

The first sight my eyes see is that of the sky. Amicable white clouds scattered all over a blank blue canopy.

Then, I look around me. Thick green blades shooting up from the ground. I am in a forest filled with strange trees that look like tall linear green flesh structures.

"Hello there, tiny human being!"

A big white floating ball of fluff appears in front of me. It's twice my size and high in the air.

I stare wide eyed at it. It has white eyes and a white mouth on a white body which looks like fluff. Where am I? I wonder in bewilderment.

"What are you?" I ask.

"I am Pollen. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Pollen. Like pollen for flowers?"

"Yes indeed, I am that Pollen."

This is interesting. I can now talk to pollen. I guess the cure to the Junipers' weeds is pollen? But how can I stuff this massive fluff in my pocket along with Sachelle? The poor pouch is probably one-eightieth the fluff's size. I stuff a hand in my pocket and pull him out.

"Sachelle, you okay?" He appears crushed and handsome.

In his raspy voice he mutters, "If you consider living amongst the grit in your pocket as okay, then yes I am exquisite."

I smile at the ridiculous talking bag.

"Sachelle, this is Pollen. We are going to have to take Mr. Pollen back with us for the Junipers."

At this, Pollen veers a few feet away from us. Clearly, it doesn't want to be kidnapped.

"I don't think I am going anywhere with you, tiny human being. Plus...look at me, I'm sooo big. How do you plan on capturing a big pollen like me?"

Pollen is right. I sit down on the black soil below me to reconsider my plan.

"Sachelle, what do you suggest we do? I don't think we can take Pollen back with us."

"Bijoux Maven know what to do. White fuzz is useless." He replies sagely.

This makes Pollen shift in its pace uncomfortably above us. Perhaps with every second, Pollen seems to realize that we aren't friendly people. I put Sachelle back in my pocket. I decide to play nice and start at the beginning.

"Where am I, Pollen?"

"Welcome to Grassland!" It rejoices with a change in tone. It's as though it was anticipating to welcome me the moment it greeted me, but I disappointed it by announcing my kidnapping plan. It veers itself back at an amiable distance from me.

Grassland. I glance about me and realize that the tall blades of fleshy structures are in fact grass needles. I am inside a patch of grass? And I'm a tiny human being. Agh, not again. Is time travel all about turning into a small person? What's next, I go from being a miniature to an inconspicuous dot?

A matted blade of grass that formed a sort of hammock nest, straightens up at Pollen's welcome. I was lying on top of it before, and I realize that that's probably why there are grass stains on my jeans.

"Do they speak too, like you?" I ask, staring at the grass needles.

"They speak when they think no one is listening. Other times, they sing and sway. Actually, they do that all the time. At your arrival, they sensed a stranger in their presence, so everything went mum for a bit. They tend to do that sometimes. They can stand still for a long long time."

Time. What a strange phenomenon, time is.

Slowly and sweetly, I hear and watch Pollen's words come to life in front of me.

Some of them hum, while others sing so softly that you could almost miss it happening.

The wispy beings sway and the breeze above joins along:

green, very green, we know we're very green

no queen, not a queen, we have no queen

careful, onlookers! our roots are not strong

thus forth, we try to stay away from wrong

birds and dew, make us feel new

but pollen is few, oh mon dieu

words we catch from human books

(when they lie and read atop of us)

we make pretty, every crevice and crack

(no weeds here, thanks to Agatia)

we move along the winds of yonder

we sing we talk and up above they wonder

we're alive, you're alive!

let's thrive!

now and forever

today and in every weather

I watch in awe. They sing so quietly. Pollen watches them too, like a proud mother.

"Who is Agatia?" I ask.

Pollen dream-struck almost, turns its gaze back to me.

"Why, of course, she's the Bijou Maven in this realm. There aren't many Bijoux Maven left that can be trusted, actually there aren't many left at all, but Agatia, she's the loveliest!"

"You know who Bijoux Maven are!"

"Why won't I?" It asks in confusion.

"Are you a voyageur de temps?" I reply with a nonsensical question before I can stop myself.

"No, I'm not sure what that is?"

I reel back my enthusiasm, "Nevermind."

Pollen is not satisfied with my sudden indifference. "What is that! You must tell me!" It pleads.

"Nothing, it's me. I'm here to get a gem for my friends, who live in my realm. Weeds've been growing out in their garden." I say without making much effort to explain properly. How can a pollen grain understand my predicament!

But indescribably, Pollen bounces with understanding.

"I should take you to Agatia! She can help. Good rains, in Grassland, we haven't had weeds in forever!"

I let myself be hopeful again.

It couldn't be too bad having a big white fluff ball as my realm-guide, as long as I eventually get my hands on a weed-curing gem.