March 21st, 2007
Ghost Boy isn’t walking now, he’s dreaming.
He has two types of dreams:
- Dreams where he finds the giant blue eye, but instead of shooting it and killing it, he watches it, for a long time, from behind trees, and dreams of making friends with it;
- Dreams where he meets other ghost boys and is very happy for a time but then has to leave them behind when they learn his name, or share laughter for the first time, or give him a gift.
Tonight the dream is of the purple woods, with copses clawing out into skinny paths.
It’s a good dream. He stands still for ages and friendly things come close to him, slow at first and then with confidence, circling around him as in some kind of dance:
The green medusa, the beautiful white chest, the coffin.
Ghost Boy feels a soft warmth in his chest, he could stay here forever, indisputable & unremarkable as a column, being danced around. But he has the chalice, he has the arrows, he has the potion, and he could make everything around him break if he needed to.
Ghost Boy is getting impatient: it’s time for him to dance, too. But who will then be the Maypole?
-We’ll find another Ghost Boy to circle, says the Medusa.
Ghost Boy quickens his step, practices a jig, follows the three of them into the trees.
Whoever it is must learn to stand very still.