Pulled out the Book of Oberon to see if there were any measures in the book that I could undertake in my present circumstances since the [Mud] tells were still increasing. Wound up completely overwhelmed after reading though several entries. Didn’t want to just close the book without doing anything as that felt rude, but I didn’t understand to who or why. (Note to self: Late Night O’clock is not a good time to be reading about spirits when you’re too tired to pay attention to tells.) Wound up reading aloud a modified dedication to the book, for the book. Went to bed immediately after.
“Hi! Yes! Good! This is how you start! Yes!”
The young girl floated over my bed. She kicked happily in denim gray monk robes causing her denim gray shoulder length locks of hair to twist around her pale cream face. Deep gray irises streaked with crimson red looked gaily at me as she clapped her hands and laughed.
“Da fuq? Excuse me, do I know you?”
“Not yet. We’re still meeting each other.”
Everything around my room was normal, including light levels, except for this glowing apparition of a seven to nine year old girl with paper cream skin and… Wait.
I pulled the Book of Oberon out of my bag. I had put the paper dust cover away so I wouldn’t rip it. The hardback cover is denim gray cloth. The interior pages have a subtle cream hue to them with the text in a near black with certain words printed in a brilliant crimson red.
I looked at her and pointed at the book.
She clapped happily.
“Are you [the spirit Birto indicated I would encounter as a result of using the BO]?”
“No. But I’m going to help you reach ‘em! Nice to meet you!”
I smiled and laughed. What else could I do? I’m dreaming, I know I’m dreaming, and in this interface, why the hell not, right?
“Okay, chica. Will you teach me how to do this right? How to use… the physical book right? I’m starting from near complete ignorance and I don’t know where to begin.”
I confessed my end goal for obtaining the book. She agreed to help me understand the words and identify which portions to stitch together to form the ritual for that end goal. She warned me it could take years to teach that end goal.
“I expected such. But I’m sure what I learn along the way will be useful to my other endeavors just the same.”
She clapped happily and turned in mid air rapidly with glee. I could not help but be happy with her and for her.
“Here is your first lesson: I am not the book you are holding. I am of the book you are holding. I am as you see because this is how you see right now. As you change, my appearance will change. As you understand more, you will see more. Here then is my token to you. Call me, [redacted].”
I heard the name she gave me and from her eyes the red streaks flowed into the air between us to form English letters that spelled out her name.
I said her name and the streaks dissolved from before me to flow into my own eyes. It felt like I had planted my face into an old, old book and was surrounded by its comforting smell.
“K. [Redacted.] I don’t mean to be rude, but I have work in the morning and a challenging evening ahead. I take it I should read [that particular passage] aloud each time I open the book? It’s a short one.”
“No. Only when you are serious for study.”
“Every time, then. Gotcha. Good night, [Redacted].”
She waved farewell and dimmed as her form unmade itself. I laid down with the book on the bed beside me and went into a deeper sleep.
When I awoke, I looked for the book but it was in the closed carrier bag as I had placed it before bed. I discounted the entire dream as naive silliness but each time I reflected on it, it did not change.
Okay. That happened as well. I’m gonna need more journals.