Though it may not be immediately obvious, the Dreamrealms are home to many, many creatures. Some carry on the same dual existence as a dream walker does, living part of their lives in the material world and part of it in the Dreamrealms.
Some live their entire lives in the Dreamrealms, living existences so unlike ours that fully understanding them is impossible.
Not all of these creatures will carry a hostile intent—most don’t, as a matter of fact. And a very few will even be friendly or helpful, showing interest in the dream walker and even occasionally offering assistance or guidance, much like how sailors report being escorted by friendly dolphins while at sea.
Even so, these creatures are to be avoided whenever possible, as they are not like the creatures of the waking world. Intentions notwithstanding, their attempt to help can cause harm without them even knowing.
On the Dreamrealms, A Study by Lucid Dreamer, revised translated edition, 127 A.F.
Trixie’s head dipped, bobbed, and jerked back upright with a snort. She looked around the mess hall, hoping desperately that nopony had seen her falling asleep on top of her bowl of oatmeal.
Beside her, Smidgen was chomping away with gusto at a short stack of syrup-coated waffles, the lip-smacky sounds of her eating causing Trixie’s muzzle to wrinkle and her ears to temporarily flatten.
The odd hours of their training meant that they were usually eating “breakfast” some time after the Day Guard was eating lunch. This meant that there were only a few of the regular guard in the dining hall at the moment, which let the members of the Dreamguard spread out considerably.
This suited Trixie just fine. A little peace was nice. If it were just a little quieter—and here she looked out of the corner of her eye at Smidgen, who was still masticating away—it wouldn’t have been out of the question for her to put her head down for a moment to catch a quick nap. A huge yawn cracked her jaw even as she levitated a spoonful of brown sugar into her oatmeal.
“You sure have been tired the last few days,” Smidgen said. She put down her fork and looked up at Trixie with concern. “Have you been having trouble sleeping after training?”
“Nah…Spent some time, uh… researching. Maybe a little too much. Really getting into the latest training book, Realm of Mirrors and Shadows. Say, have you ever heard of a Gaunt One?”
Smidgen’s muzzle wrinkled as she concentrated. “No, I don’t think so. Is it mentioned in that book?”
“No... I, uh, seem to recall coming across the term before, but I can’t remember where.” Trixie shrugged, wishing she hadn’t even brought it up. “Probably in one of the other books.”
Trixie went back to eating her oatmeal with a mechanical regularity while Smidgen, now finished with her own breakfast, chattered away about who knows what. Lessons, probably, Trixie decided. It’s all anypony in the Dreamguard ever talked about. She grunted and nodded at what sounded like the appropriate moments, but otherwise remained focused on her own thoughts.
Four nights, now, she’d spent in the beautiful, weird stillness of Draumweyr. Four nights where she’d completed her regular practice with the rest of the guard, left the Dreamrealms, then almost immediately returned. Puka would always find her on the Threshold and guide her quickly through the Path of Shadows, a little blue light in the darkness. The presence of the creature was almost as good as the Princess at keeping that skin-crawling sensation of being watched at bay.
On that first night, she had nailed the embrasure almost right away, just like she’d suspected she would. It took a few tries; the material that made up Draumweyr had been harder to work with than that in the Gloaming—it had felt stiffer and had resisted being changed—but eventually Trixie had managed it.
The next night of extra training had been working on the shadecloak, which Puka had declared perfect after Trixie’s third attempt. The last two nights had been general ward-work, in order to tighten up her dreamwards. Trixie couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that spread over her muzzle, remembering how Luna had been duly impressed by her progress—of course!—and had heaped praise upon her in front of all the other cadets. Everything was going so well! It was worth missing out on a little bit of sleep here and there, and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t make it up after training.
And even after all this time, Puka hadn’t done a thing to hurt her, even though there had been plenty of chances. Trusting the creature had been a risk, true, but her father had always told her that nopony could succeed without taking risks. And this risk was one that had paid off in spades. Once again, Trixie’s judgement had been absolutely right.
“...and that’s when Princess Luna put on a tutu and danced around playing the tuba for us,” Smidgen was saying.
“Uh-huh,” Trixie replied. She blinked, spoon halfway raised to her mouth. “Wait, what?”
Smidgen grinned. “Oh, you are listening. I was worried!” The grin faded into a look of concern. “Are you okay? You’re looking really tired.”
“I’m fine,” Trixie snapped, causing the other mare to pull back and flatten her ears. Trixie took a deep breath. “Sorry. I guess I am a little tired. I spend too much time reading, I guess. I want to know everything!”
“Understandable, if not really possible,” came Princess Luna’s voice from behind her, causing Trixie to drop her spoon with a yelp. “Even I don’t know nearly everything about the Dreamrealms, and I have been at this for centuries longer than you.”
Trixie, her heart pounding, managed to mutter something noncommittal while mentally marvelling at how the Princess was apparently not happy with just pulling that “appear from nowhere” trick in the Dreamrealms, she had to do it at breakfast, too.
Then she shrank back as the Princess’ head came down, teal eyes narrowing as she looked Trixie in the eye. “Smidgen is correct, however. You do look very tired, Miss Lulamoon. I admire dedication, but rest is necessary for a healthy mind and body.”
“Yes, Princess,” Trixie mumbled, looking down at Luna’s Royal Silver Slippers.
“Perhaps I should speak to my sister. She has some experience dealing with over-enthusiastic students.”
The light, teasing tone from Luna grated along Trixie’s nerves, setting her teeth on edge. Then she made the connection on just who her sister’s “over-enthusiastic” student must be.
Her bowl danced on the table as Trixie slammed her forehooves down onto the wood. “Never compare me to Twilight Sparkle!” she snapped.
The mess hall fell into a dead silence, broken only by Smidgen’s gasp of shock. Trixie’s momentary outburst of rage instantly blew itself out, leaving a cold, hollow space in her barrel as she tried her best to avoid cringing before the towering Princess of the Night.
The silence stretched out, and Trixie wondered what it would be like to be the very first ex-dreamguard. In for a bit, in for a bar, she decided, and, in spite of the pounding of her heart and the twisting in her stomach, stared at the Princess defiantly.
For her part, the Princess returned the gaze steadily, her face expressionless. They stayed that way for a long moment, and it was Trixie who broke first after what felt like an eternity.
“I apologize for my outburst, Princess,” she said, her voice emerging stiffly past the lump in her throat. “But I am my own mare, and I will stand by myself on my own merits. I don’t need or want to be compared to anypony else.”
“I see,” Princess Luna said evenly, and still her expression gave nothing away. “And your anger towards Twilight Sparkle?”
Trixie blinked and took the opportunity to look away—not that Smidgen’s look of wide-eyed horror was any real improvement over Luna’s stone-face. “A private matter between the two of us.”
“Very well. We need not discuss it here.” Luna began walking away, and Trixie nearly sagged with relief. “Oh, and Miss Lulamoon?”
The tension came flooding back. “Yes, Princess?”
“Please meet me in my study at your earliest convenience. After you finish your breakfast, of course.” The corner of Luna’s mouth quirked upwards for just a moment. “As I mentioned, your health is very important.”
Trixie’s pride wouldn’t let her neck bend or her shoulders sag, no matter how much she may have wanted to. “Yes, Princess,” she replied in as close to a level voice as she could manage.
~~*~~
“Of course, Trixie,” Princess Luna said, her voice contrite. “You raise a very good point, and I see that I am wrong. Completely and totally wrong.” The Night Princess bowed her head. “I apologize. I should have remembered what a wise, intelligent and strong-willed mare you are, and how much better you are than Twilight Sparkle. I shouldn’t have even mentioned that other mare, as she is completely overrated. As if a pony who had the tremendous advantage of practically being raised by Princess Celestia wouldn’t be so insanely skilled—”
Trixie frowned, and Luna froze. The conversation jumped back a little. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the overrated Twilight Sparkle. Why, even with all of the advantages she had that you didn’t, she still only barely managed to show you up in Ponyville—”
The frown morphed into a scowl. The scene jumped backwards.
“Why, even with all of the advantages she had,” Luna said, “She’s still not all that great. After all, she ran from you when you first challenged her, if you recall! Completely pathetic, not suited at all to even be in the presence of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
Fireworks went off behind Luna as Trixie smiled.
“Even if she did manage to vanquish the Ursa Minor that you couldn’t—”
Trixie growled and pounded a hoof on the floor and Luna froze behind her desk once again.
“Well, that gives me some insight,” Luna’s voice said from behind her.
Trixie stiffened as she realized that wasn’t the Luna in front of her who had spoken. Lucidity flooded into her, and the dream version of Luna and her study vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving only the solid stone floor underneath her. The rest was nothing but a hazy, dim white. Slowly, she turned to see the real Princess Luna standing behind her with an impish smirk on her muzzle.
“Princess,” Trixie said with a stiff, formal bow. “I apologize for the presumption. That dream was not lucid.”
“I am aware, and I am not offended. I have seen much worse regarding myself in many a pony’s dream.” She stepped forward, shrouded in a starlit darkness. “I trust you are resting well?”
“Quite well,” Trixie replied, “I should be much better rested in the morning. As I said earlier—”
“Enough,” Princess Luna said, firmly though not unkindly. “I recall what you said. Your suspension remains. Three nights of complete rest should see you restored to yourself.”
Maybe it was being in her own dream that made Trixie bold enough to argue. “I would say that a single night would be plenty to—”
“Enough, Trixie Lulamoon. This suspension is not only for you to rest. You must learn to temper your pride, and also to acquire discipline.”
A grimace soured Trixie’s face. “I traveled all over Equestria, pulling my own wagon and setting my own schedule. I went hungry more often than I can even remember, going from one town to the next. And I practiced my tricks every single day, even when I knew them by heart. I am disciplined!”
“It is true that you work very hard for those things that you want,” Luna said. Newfound boldness or not, Trixie couldn’t help but shrink back as the Princess’ head lowered down to her level. “And yet, it is so difficult for you to deny yourself those same things. To wait, especially when, to your mind, it is not necessary.” Luna drew herself up and looked down at her. “You leap ahead, often without thought, pouring in all of your effort to the task at hoof—an admirable trait, to be sure, but a potentially dangerous one!” Luna shook her head, and the stars undulated behind her. “Patience, Trixie Lulamoon. Cultivate humility, and the discipline to match your talents. Then you shall truly be a mare to reckon with!”
“I understand, Princess,” Trixie said with unflexing formality. “That being the case, shouldn’t I get back to my normal rest?”
Luna sighed. “Very well, Cadet Lulamoon. I shall leave you to your slumber.”
The darkness around Luna twisted, pinched, then drew in upon itself and vanished. Trixie stood there, trembling, in her now-lucid dream.
“It’s not fair…” she muttered. Even while asleep she could practically feel the other cadets catching up to her, surpassing her…
Leaving her behind, once again. Making her into a failure, once again.
Settling down into a nice, comforting haze of self pity, she felt her lucid dream fragmenting, slipping back into normal sleep. Just before the final wisps drifted away, she felt something strange, almost at the edge of her perception—a scratching, almost, or a tugging sensation, right at the edge of her dream wards.
Lucidity snapped back into her the instant she realized what it was. Someone, or something, was trying to access her dreams. For a moment she wondered if Luna was returning to her dream, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. Luna would have just barged in, like she had earlier. After all, it was part of her training to create wards that the Princess of Dreams herself couldn’t penetrate. As much as Trixie hated to admit it, her current wards were nowhere near strong enough to keep Luna out.
“Who is it?” she called out, immediately feeling silly for doing so. It wasn’t as if who or whatever it was could hear her, after all…
“It is Puka!” came the reply, muffled and weak through Trixie’s dream wards.
That brought Trixie up short. “Puka? What are you doing here?”
“Trixie did not arrive in the Threshold tonight as she said she would. Puka was worried!”
“Oh… Uh, well I’m alright,” she called back, feeling immensely silly talking to something she couldn’t even see. “Princess Luna forbade me from entering the Dreamrealms for three nights.”
“Why?”
“It’s… part of my training,” Trixie said, shuffling her forehooves on the imaginary stone floor beneath her.
“Trixie does not want to practice dream weaving tonight?”
“Trixie would love to, but I’m not allowed to leave this dream.” She sighed. “Luna put a ward on the Threshold that would tell her if I tried to enter it.”
“This is no problem,” Puka called back. “Puka can bring Draumweyr to Trixie!”
Trixie looked up in the general direction she imagined that Puka’s voice was coming from. “To me? You can bring me to Draumweyr from my dream?”
“Draumweyr to you. Yes, is easy!”
“How?”
“First, Trixie must let Puka in.”
Chewing her lip, she considered that for a moment. Of all the things that Trixie prided herself on—vast magical talent, wonderful stage presence and a silky mane most mares would simply die for—one of the things she was most proud of was the fact that she wasn’t an idiot. Luna was always going on about the dangers of inviting others into your mind, and every book she’d ever read on the Dreamrealms had warned her of the same.
“I was told that was dangerous,” she replied. “If I let you in, couldn’t you hurt me?”
“Puka would never hurt Trixie, only help!”
Well, the fuzzy little critter sure sounded sincere enough. Trixie chewed her lip for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.
Puka had four night’s worth of chances to hurt her, and hadn’t done anything to her yet. Not to mention that, if this worked like Puka said it would, the two of them would be able to train together whenever she wanted. Keeping ahead of the other students would be a breeze at that point.
Though, if Luna returned and found her dream missing, she’d know that Trixie wasn't resting like she was supposed to be. This would make for a very unhappy Princess.
Trixie snorted and pawed at the ground with a hoof. The memories of Luna’s gentle-but-firm chiding, as if Trixie were some ignorant, willful child, still stung. Making Luna happy wasn’t exactly high on her priority list at that moment. And, anyway, she could always claim she woke up to use the restroom or something.
Besides, greatness can’t be acquired without risk, as her father always used to say.
“Alright,” she said as she created a hole in her wards and wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. “You can come in.”
A flash of soft blue and suddenly Puka was there, floating in the space in front of Trixie’s muzzle. It zipped forward toward her neck, almost causing Trixie to panic before she realized that it was simply nuzzling her neck.
“Puka is happy that Trixie trusts her!”
Oh, it’s a her, Trixie thought, even as she stroked Puka’s fluffy back with her hoof. She’d never asked before, and it wasn’t exactly easy to casually check through all that fluff.
“I do. You’ve helped me so much, and I just know you’ll help me more.”
Puka drifted backwards, hanging in the empty air in front of Trixie’s muzzle. “Puka will! Is a promise! So now… Draumweyr!”
A spot of light appeared before them, twisting in a truly nauseating fashion and expanding rapidly, sweeping the remnants of Trixie’s dream before it like a broom. When the light faded, Trixie was amazed to find herself standing in the familiar, still landscape of Draumweyr
“Shall we get started?”
Puka zipped ahead without waiting for Trixie’s reply. She followed, a grin turned up the corners of her mouth. “Oh, I have to learn how she did that.”
~~*~~
“Is no good,” Puka said an indeterminate amount of time later.
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Trixie grunted, restlessly pawing the earth beneath her as she felt yet another attempt to weave an improved dream ward collapse around her.
“You are welcome,” Puka commented, orbiting her head like a fuzzy moon. “Why is Trixie improving backwards?”
“Well, I’m sorry!” Trixie snapped. “I’ve had a frustrating time today, okay?” She looked around, noticing that Puka had vanished. A moment later, she saw the cobalt-blue eyes peering at her from underneath a nearby shrub. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s…” me, she almost said. “It’s Princess Luna.”
Puka crawled out from under the shrub, her little nose working like a rabbit’s. “Trixie is upset. Yes?”
“That’s an understatement.” At Puka’s blank look, she added, “Yes.”
“Anger. Frustration. These things rob a mind of serenity,” Puka stated, floating up once again into the air. “Serenity is needed for focus. Focus is needed for weaving. These emotions are stopping you from success.”
“Well, it’s not like I can just turn them off,” Trixie replied, kicking at a small stone embedded in Draumweyr’s forest floor.
“Not turn them off. Put them away.”
Trixie snorted. “Put them away? How? Where?”
“Puka can hold them for a time.”
She blinked at the creature floating before her. It had sounded so resolute, so confident. “You can? How?”
“Trixie can give them to Puka for a short time. Calm the mind, practice the weaves. With practice comes skill. Then Trixie can weave better and not be upset.”
“I don't know about this...”
"Puka will only hold them until Trixie wants them back. Besides, Trixie can always make more." Puka's head tilted. "This is not a thing that must be done. We can wait until Trixie is calmer, continue tomorrow night—"
"No! No. I've come this far..." Trixie sighed. "Okay, what do I have to do?"
Puka floated up and put her tiny paws on the end of Trixie’s muzzle and stared deeply into her eyes. “Imagine all stress. All frustration. All anger. Any emotion that worries, distracts or troubles you. Imagine them as colors in your mind.”
Trixie let out a sigh and closed her eyes and concentrated. Her anger at dressing-down in Luna’s office was a glaring, pulsating red, she decided. Her frustration at her continued failures she made into a jagged orange. The creeping exhaustion she tried to ignore was a drooping grey. After a moment of indecision, she started coloring in the emotions she didn’t even want to admit to herself: her jealousy became a streak of purple, her fear a skittish yellow, and her self-doubt transformed into a shimmering silver.
“Okay, I’ve got it. Now what?”
“Push them into a ball in your mind. All colors, make them into a rainbow marble in your mind’s eye.”
This turned out to be a lot more difficult than simply coloring her emotions in, Trixie soon discovered. It required an intense presence of mind to keep all the colors in sight, let alone compacting them into a ball. “I think... I’ve got it.”
“Now… imagine giving that marble to Puka.”
Trixie did so, and immediately felt a push, almost as if an immense wind had surged into her. She staggered with a grunt, her legs splayed beneath her as she fought to keep her balance. Her head drooped down between her knees as sweat popped out all over her body. And all the while, a small part of her mind wondered how just imagining something could be so hard.
After a long moment of strain, the tension broke. Trixie staggered as the resistance was suddenly gone, drawing in deep breaths of air as she gasped and panted.
Trixie opened her eyes, feeling a blissful calm like she’d never felt before. Hanging in the air before her was Puka, her coat rippling with colors one after the other—baleful red, cringing yellow, watery blue. Puka’s eyes were closed as she shivered and twitched, her lips pulled back from her teeth in a pained grimace.
Concern seemed like a very, very distant emotion. Still, social protocol existed for a reason. “Are you alright?” Trixie asked.
“Yes… I will be fine,” Puka said, hugging herself. The ripples of color died down, leaving behind only the familiar electric blue. “Shall we begin?”
“Of course,” Trixie replied, as calm as the surface of a windless lake.
They started, Trixie weaving stronger and stronger dream wards just as Puka instructed. They continued on for hours, Trixie improving steadily without a hint of failure, without a glimmer of uncertainty.
It was just as it was supposed to be, just as Trixie had always thought it should be. It was easy.