Idris' Dream Journal

When they were but an Owlet, Idris Moonbeam was gifted a small purple sleeping mask by one of their town's witches. It was simple, made of soft material she had never really felt before, and smelled faintly of lavender. 

“Take it,” the elderly owlin woman said, a knowing look in her eyes. “I think it calls your name, child.”

That night Idris wore her new sleeping mask like a crown upon her feathered head as she got ready for sleep, emboldened by the mystic woman’s words to have a good nights rest. And while her dreams that night were certainly good, they were far from restful. 

The young owlin woke up to the sounds of laughter, music, and tiny feet dancing about. Lifting their mask back atop their head, their already large eyes widened at the spectacle before them. Fairies, pixies, talking animals, little critters of all shapes and colours, were having some sort of party! A party that, from the looks of it, was not anywhere Idris had ever seen in her entire life. The grass seemed to shift colours as she shifted her head, the flowers flew away into small clumps of butterflies, some shrubs seemed to be sipping tea. It was a fairytale. A real live fairytale picnic and she was invited! 

That night in her dreams she danced with dragon faeries and sang with a choir of quails. She partied with pixies, she feasted with fae. She had a strife with a sprite but it turned out alright. She was in the middle of a discussion about soup with some talking mushrooms, when a bunch of small rabbit people ran into the clearing with trumpets! All the partygoers stopped what they were doing and paid attention, so Idris thought it polite to do the same.

Following the rabbits was a beautiful elven-looking woman. She had pale skin, long curly orange hair streaked with silver, and a face showing wrinkles that reflected years of joy. She wore simple flowing white clothing, and had large iridescent fairy wings upon her back. As she entered the clearing she smiled, and Idris felt safe. 

“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account, my loves.” She spoke softly, but her voice swelled to fill the space.

The party erupted around the little owl again, but their eyes were still fixed on the large fairy. Something about the lady was truly enchanting, but even as she approached Idris felt only comfort by her presence. 

“Hello little one, I’m glad you could make it. My name is Zybilna of Prismeer, the land where you now dream. Would you like to join me for tea?”

As Idris accepted, a small table appeared between the two. Zybilna asked what the little owl liked to do, liked to eat, about her friends and family. What they thought of magic and chaos, of feeling your feelings and being yourself. She was easy to talk to, and her laugh sounded like wind chimes. As the conversation wound down so did the party, Idris rubbing her sleepy eyes while many of the partygoers pulled out sleeping bags. In mere minutes it was a slumber party. 

“Thank you for coming to my party and speaking to me of your world, I quite enjoyed your company dear child. I have a gift for you as thanks, it will be with you when you wake. Use it how you wish, how you feel is best, and I will always be watching over you. Have fun.”

With some parting words and some goodnights, Idris rose from her chair with a small yawn, rubbing her eyes and pulling back down her sleeping mask. What a pleasant dream.