FOX09T Book 1 Chapter 2

FO9T Book 1 Chapter 2

    Chapter Two Gentle waves of harmonious melodic chirpings of birdsong filled Larissa’s head even before she opened her eyes.  She awoke instantly aware of where she was – or, at least, where she thought she must be.  She reached up to touch her face, to touch where the dream-monitoring wires were attached.  But they weren’t there.  Had Dr. Gwen already removed them?  Certainly, everything must have gone really well, thought Larissa, because she couldn’t remember ever waking up feeling so well-rested and feeling so good all over.  But, then again, something was strange…
     She stretched out her arms and legs beneath the blankets and shifted about to and fro.  After a moment, she realized: This isn’t the hospital bed in Dr. Gwen’s office.  The bed she found herself in was, in fact, much nicer and comfier than the hospital bed, even much comfier than her own bed at home.
     So where was she?  
     Despite feeling so wonderfully well-rested and despite the pleasant, cheerful song of the chirping birds that must have been coming in through some nearby open window, she dared not raise her head to look around … for a twinge of fear of something Timothy had said to her.  “You’re so different from the other girls.  You’re so talented and gifted.  What if they think you’re too different? What if the “dream clinic” is just a trick to disappear you off to the nut-house? That’s what they do to artists they don’t understand sometimes, you know!”
     Was this the nut-house?  
     Ever so slowly, Larissa raised her head and then sat up in bed to take a look around.  This was definitely not Dr. Gwen’s office.  But this place couldn’t be a mental institution, either.  A mental institution, Larissa imagined, would be kind of sad and cold and scary, and have that awful, sterile rubbing alcohol smell.  This place – it was a small tidy bedroom – was wonderfully warm and inviting, and it smelled divine.  Larissa had never smelled such a delightfully aromatic place.  She tried to identify the soothing mix of scents.  Sandalwood, fresh lemons, a touch of pine, and … watermelon.  (Watermelon?! she thought, and almost exclaimed right out loud.)  Oh, and most definitely, roses!  As she looked around the small room, she could see the source of that strong scent:  vases and vases and vases of fresh roses (she adored roses!), some in colors she had never known roses could be.
     But there was something else strange here, she was slowly realizing.  Good-strange, not necessarily bad-strange.  But still, strange.
     There was something about all the amazing wood.  The hardwood floors, the hardwood walls of a different kind of hardwood, the beautifully beamed low rough-wood ceiling.  It was like a showroom model bedroom created by a master carpenter to advertise his masterful expertise.  It was, thought Larissa, like a perfect storybook cottage bedroom, right out of a fairy tale.
     That’s it, Larissa decided, I’m still dreaming.
      Having resolved the mystery of her odd surroundings to her satisfaction, she swung her legs out of the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers, which were ready at bedside.  She noted that she was still wearing her favorite pajamas in this continuing dream, which pleased her, and she even put on her favorite silky robe, which just happened to be draped over a sitting chair.  
     Her investigation should continue immediately, she decided, because something in the next room smelled not only divine – but delicious!       
     Larissa pushed open the storybook door with the big black metal storybook latch and stepped into what was, of course!, a marvelously storybooky cottage kitchen.  The mouthwatering aroma of the certain delicious-smelling something was emanating from the large wood-burning stove.  She quickly donned the two oven mitts that were hanging on a peg in the wall, and popped open the metal grate of the oven to peer inside.  Several large pies were baking -- and browning at just that moment to absolute perfection.  Where’s the baker? wondered Larissa. These are ready to come out!  She quickly but carefully pulled each of the five pies from the stove, and arranged them evenly on the red-checkered tablecloth of the sturdy kitchen table to cool.
     I can’t wait! she thought.
     Then she thought another thought:  Bad things often happen to people in fairy tales who gobble down unauthorized yummies they come across left unattended.  Is this where the ridiculously happy dream turns into a nightmare?  Is there going to be a Larissa & Lemon Cream pie cooking in that oven just as soon as the ogre who lives here comes home and catches me?
     But the pies smelled just so good, so, on her third thought, she thought:  There’s no way this can be a nightmare.  It’s all so nice, and – Dr. Gwen’s watching over me the whole time!  She won’t let anything scary happen to me.
     So Larissa dipped her fingers into the pie she decided smelled best of all and slid a piece of what she was soon to decide must be the tastiest pie ever invented right into her eager mouth.  She sat stunned by the pie’s perfection.  Maybe food could only taste this good in dreams.  She was about to go in for her second scoop when the big door latch on what looked to be the front door of the cottage began to rattle and lift.

     Larissa knew she should be frightened, or at least somewhat freaked out, when the owners of the cottage stepped inside to catch her eating their pie, but instead, she felt like jumping for joy.
     “Oh, Reggie!  She’s here!  She’s here!  Larissa is finally here!  And she’s already found her ‘Welcome to Foxwood’ pies I’ve been baking for her all morning!”  Larissa was surprised that the Lady of the House knew her name, but then, she remembered, this is all a dream and such illogical things are logical in dreams.  But being welcomed into the exuberant cottage couple’s home (instead of being pitched into the oven by a vengeful ogre) wasn’t what made Larissa want to jump for joy…

    Larissa’s hosts were characters from her fox drawings come to life!

    Both Reggie and Bea (who introduced themselves to Larissa as they fought through their tears of joy at her arrival – and then smothered her in hugs and kisses and then more hugs) were foxes.  That is, foxlike, at least, or part fox-part people people, like the characters in Larissa’s drawings and paintings.  They walked on two legs just like people and wore clothes just like people.  (Even if their fanciful clothes were Medieval Timesy-type breeches and boots and a tri-cornered “Robin Hood” hat for Reggie and a peasant-style dress for Bea.  Pretty much like Larissa always dressed her fox subjects.)  But their faces were sort of half how any normal mom and dad’s or auntie and uncle’s faces might like – and half how a red fox’s furry face would look.  Their hands were very paw-ish and their fingernails very claw-ish.  Their teeth were nicely bright white, but just a bit fang-ish.  Their eyes and ears were absolutely fox-ish.  But they were in no way scary or threatening.  Quite the opposite.  They were like your favorite canine pets and your favorite cartoon characters and your favorite auntie and uncle all rolled into one and come to life and talking to you!
     As Larissa continued to eat her pie, at the insistence of Bea, who hovered over Larissa like a bubbly and utterly enthralled handmaiden, the more and more mystified twelve-year-old tried to make some sense of it all, even if she was only dreaming.
     “So you knew I was coming?”
     “Of course, my dear!” said Bea.
     “We got your invitation!” said Reggie.
     “I sent you an invitation – to invite myself into your home?” said a puzzled Larissa.  “People can’t just invite themselves into other people’s homes.  That’s all backwards.  You have to wait to be invited into someone’s home – by those people themselves, not by yourself!”
     Reggie and Bea had a good laugh at that.
     “Oh, yes!  Oh, yes!” cried Bea excitedly.  “Princess Winona told us that Larissa would be full of all manner of funny contrary notions like this!  Because many things are precisely backwards in the Dreaming World she comes from!”
     “Well look at us!” said Reggie.  “Months of instruction we received from the Council on how to be the proper hosts and we’re already confusing our Visitor!”
     “Yes!” cried Bea.  “We must stick to our training!  But it’s so hard to think right now!  I’m just so happy!”
     “Wait a minute,” said Larissa.  “You said, ‘the Dreaming World’?  Isn’t this the Dreaming World?  I think I’m actually from the Waking World and just visiting you guys in a dream world, right?”
     “Why, of course!” said Reggie.  “People in the Dreaming World think they’re in the Waking World – and vice versa!  I never thought about that.  Fascinating!”
     “Well, wherever you say you come from, Larissa,” said Bea, “we couldn’t be happier that you chose us to come here to stay with on your visit.  We’ve never had a Visitor!  We had just about given up all hope!” Bea’s lip began to tremble.
     “Now, now, Bea,” said Reggie, rising from his chair and gently patting Bea’s shoulder with one of his furry black paws. “Let’s not get all weepy on such a happy occasion…”
     “Where,” asked Larissa, wanting to change the subject before Bea could start crying and hugging her madly again, “is this ‘invitation’ that I sent you?  Do you still have it?”
     “Still have it?!” erupted Reggie.  “You think we would ever let anything happen to the most wonderful gift we’ve ever received ever from anyone ever?!
     “Why, it’s right there, child,” said Bea, pointing.  “Hanging on the wall, there, right behind you.  You didn’t already see it?”
     Larissa turned round in her chair to look at the wall behind her.  It was definitely hers, alright, but she didn’t remember sending it anywhere…
     It was one of her best oil paintings, and nicely framed for hanging, too, of a pleasant fox couple.  And it was Reggie and Bea – to a tee.  But she thought it was on an easel back in her bedroom at home.  She had just decided it to be completed a few hours before she went off to Dr. Gwen’s clinic.  She certainly didn’t know she was a painting a “real live” couple, but just a happy fox couple who came to her in her head while she was daydreaming one day.  And she didn’t remember naming the foxes in the portrait “Reggie” and “Bea.”  But she liked the names.  They seemed to fit.
     “So you got this in the mail – and that’s how you knew I was coming, whether you liked it or not?”
     “That’s the sort of invitation that every host couple receives from their Visitor about to arrive,” explained Bea.  “How else could we have time to prepare?”
     “But she doesn’t know any of this yet, Bea,” said Reggie.
     “That’s right, that’s right!” said Bea. “Oh, there’s so much to tell you about!  It’s all going to be so much fun!”  The white tip of Bea’s fluffy red tail flicked back and forth in joyful anticipation. Kind of like an excited puppy dog, thought Larissa.
     Larissa had another piece of pie and happily studied the happy faces of her happy hosts, who continued to jabber about all the fun things to come.  Did she “create” these people? she wondered.  Maybe she was cracking up after all.  But most probably, she was sure, this was just a very long, very intricately detailed dream.  Probably because of the pill Dr. Gwen gave her before she went to sleep.
     She didn’t have the heart to tell Reggie and Bea that she would soon be waking up and leaving them.  They were so happy and nice.  What fine friends, she thought.  Even if they were totally imaginary.