Cerest was dreaming of her home in Tir na Nog, or perhaps Avalon. She was seated alone at a feasting table when a hooded man in a white robe came in.

“Hello, Cerest,” he said, doffing his hood. It was Derek Weaver aka Dream Weaver.

“Hello, Weaver,” said Cerest. She didn’t know his intentions, if this was just a friendly visit, or if he had the machinations of a mastermind going on somewhere in his head.

“Are we visiting, or is this a more auspicious visit?” Cerest asked.

“Your background serves you well. No, this is just a friendly visit. Ever since Lucca de la Sangre took over Seed Sower and used dragon magic to send me back home, I’ve missed Othello. Hanging out with my old friends in their dreams is the closest I seem to come,” said DW.

They ate and drank at the high table. Cerest in place of the queen, the Weaver in the space next to her, as the fourth highest rank at the table, although the king and the heir’s space was empty..

“This stuff is pretty good. I’ve never eaten fairy food before,” said DW.

“Your tasting my memories, you know,” said Cerest with a frown.

“No, you won’t forget them. I’m experiencing your sensations as you remember them, nothing more. If you like I’ll stop,” he said.

Cerest shrugged. “If I don’t forget, there’s no harm in it,”

They ate for a while, talking of the community college, the collective unconscious (the psychic network produced by all dreamers), and eventually DW left a few minutes before Cerest woke up.

She felt very rested, and wondered if that was the Weaver’s doing. She got up and got ready for work. Now she was Professor Sara West, oral comm professor at Othello Community College. She always had the poise and grace of a royal, even if no one understood exactly what that was or why. She still had her powers, but she took the form of a human to serve humans and those with divine heritage learning to master their gifts.