I nervously brushed and washed my face as quickly as I could, making a mess of both tasks in the process. It was about 9am, much earlier than I was accustomed to rising, but today was rather important. I frowned as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, lifting a hoof anxiously to undo the sloppy hoofwork on my mane. While I was more used to my face and mane’s new appearance, I hadn’t quite found a way to tame my shortened mane. Regardless of the numerous brushings, the ends always seemed to flip upward, curling back just far enough to brush the tip of my muzzle. I tried my hoof at styling it about a dozen more times, but each attempt bred a rat’s nest that was far more terrifying than the last. I accepted defeat and trotted downstairs. I had kept everypony waiting long enough.
As I reached the bottom step of the stairs, I was greeted by a wonderful sight. Large, fluffy slices of browned bread, diced potatoes, and scrambled eggs were already on plates at the table, just waiting to be eaten. My other companions were already digging in. I couldn’t fault them for it - nopony knows how long I had been in the bathroom.
“I-I’m sorry I didn’t wake up sooner,” I apologized, quickly taking a seat at the table. “You think you might have a job for me?” Fresh Coat and New Scene glanced at each other quickly.
“Well, we have a couple different leads. But…” Fresh Coat replied, taking a quick bite of the toast with a fork. The bread was thick, and I noted that it appeared to be coated in a white sauce of sorts, but it didn’t make sense to use a fork. I wonder what sort of topping that is, I pondered silently. I wanted to ask, but the others paid it no mind. It must be rather common, I thought. Regardless, I followed Fresh Coat’s lead and cut up the thick toast with a fork as well.
“We were hoping you could tell us about your cutie mark and your special talent,” New Scene finished. “There’s a chance we could find you a better paying job if we know what your talent is.” The lime green stallion was stuffing his muzzle full of potatoes.
“My cutie mark...” I glanced at my flank. I had anticipated such questions. I had even ensured that my cutie mark made sense in relation to my powers as a princess. I took a deep breath, and the others seemed to sense my apprehension. “I’m not so sure… My talent is pretty useless. Even on a good day.” Love Lace laid a reassuring hoof on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay. We won’t judge,” she said, smiling comfortingly. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s amazing.”
“My special talent is dreams…”
“Dreams?” All three replied.
“When a pony is sleeping and I’m nearby, I can sort of… step inside their dreams.” I had planned to stop there - in my head I saw it as the perfect moment for a dramatic pause. Unfortunately for the past Luna, present Luna was very nervous and a bit tongue tied. “W-when I was younger, it was a bit more problematic and I could accidentally fall into other ponies’ nightmares. At the best of times, if I am aware of what’s happening, I can fight nightmares and figure out the cause of other ponies’ problems.” The words seemed to spill out of me. There was an awkward moment of silence.
“Do you slide into just anypony’s dreams?” Love Lace asked curiously, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Not really, at least not anymore. When I was younger, that was more of a problem.” I chuckled. “I used to have nightmares about running into other ponies’ nightmares.” An uncomfortable smile settled on my lips.
I wasn’t exactly lying, but I wasn’t being entirely honest, either. These ponies had been nothing but kind to me. Not sharing the truth with them left a bad taste in my mouth. It’s better if they don’t know, isn’t it? I would just be placing them in grave danger if they knew the truth, or at the very least forcing them to choose between me and the only princess they’ve ever loved… right? Right… My thoughts were sane and my answer rational, but deep down a part of me was dissatisfied. I hoped that one day I could tell them the truth - tell them everything - but I knew that was nothing more than a dream.
“Wow… That’s a really unique gift,” New Scene noted, tapping his hoof against his chin “I think… we might know someone who might appreciate that special skill.” Love Lace frowned slightly, almost as if she were pouting. “Oh, c’mon, Love Lace, don’t give me that expression. You might not like him but Psyche isn’t all that bad. Besides, Dream Drops’ gift would be absolutely perfect for his line of work.” Unwilling to look him in the eye or perhaps unwilling to accept his opinion, she swung her head in the opposite direction, continuing to pout.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I interjected as I snuck in a quick bite of the delicious sweet bread, “but who is Psyche?” My eyes shifted between Love Lace and New Scene. Fresh Coat had cleared his plate by now.
“Well, with any luck he might just be your new boss. You better hurry up - we’re gonna meet him soon.”
⊰ ★ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ★ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ★ ⊱
“Can you tell me a bit more about Mr. Psyche?” I asked Fresh Coat, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face. I felt uncomfortable and nervous as I trotted beside my host. Love Lace seemed like a particularly happy and loving pony and her reaction to this pony's name made me a bit nervous. The strand of hair slid back out of place.
“He’s a good pony, just a bit… tactless from time to time.” He paused for a moment to help me nudge the hair back into place. “He may be a bit hard, but he really only does it with the best of intentions. If you get a job with him, I have a feeling you’ll like working for him.” Satisfied, he continued leading me forward.
Love Lace had graciously helped me get ready for the sudden interview. My hair was in a short braid that curved around the left side of my neck and placed some sort of collar with a “lucky” gold ribbon tied just beneath it. “You know, New Scene said something similar earlier. What exactly does he do?” We turned down a busy side street.
“Oh, he’s a therapist. He runs his own business by helping out ponies understand their own feelings and come to their own solutions.” Before I realized it, we were standing just outside of a business. A sign over the door read, “Simple Solutions.” The exterior was simple and unassuming with a number of flowers lining the front. I swallowed nervously, feeling a bit shaky. It had been centuries since I had spoken in a formal manner with another pony.
“Go on inside, I will wait for you out here. Tell him I sent you.” Fresh Coat nudged me forward, and uneasily I walked forward.
I pushed open the front door and stepped into a small but welcoming space. A tan stallion sat at the desk, his scruffy brown mane stopping just short of his glasses. As I walked forward, I could feel a cold sweat breaking out along the back of my neck “H-Hello, I’m here t-” I was cut off mid-sentence by the stallion.
“One moment,” he interrupted, not even looking up for several moments. The silence only added to my anxiety. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “If you’re here for an appointment, I should inform you that I’m booked out until next week.” He pushed the glasses farther up his muzzle. He acted as if that was all he was doing, but the way his eyes flicked quickly up and down I could tell that he was assessing me in some way.
“I’m actually not here for an appointment.” I took a breath for a moment, trying to regain some composure. “My name is Dream Drops. I am looking for work and Fresh Coat recommended that I should come see you.” He frowned and sighed heavily.
“I see. Well, why don’t we step into my office for a moment.” His voice was kind, but his half-lidded eyes betrayed his disinterest. He led the way to a small room just to the left of the desk. The room he led me into was warm and cozy. A number of articles and important documents and shelves lined with lightly used tomes occupied the walls. I felt as if I had entered a scholar's den rather than an office. “Please take a seat wherever you like.” He didn’t even look at me as he spoke. I chose a large chair with a high back that leaned against the left corner of the room. “Do you mind if we leave the door open? I’m the only one in at the moment, and I would hate to miss a client.”
“No, no, it’s quite alright with me.” The words came out of my mouth a bit more quickly than I intended, betraying my nervousness. I could feel nothing but frustration for several moments. I had been a princess of a nation, seen more than anypony had the right to, and lived for thousands of years. This, by far, should have been the easiest part of my life.
“So,” the stallion started as he shuffled around several papers on his desk, “I didn’t properly introduce myself at the door. My name is Psyche and I run this office. We assist ponies with their problems, helping them unlock the answers they already knew.” He leaned forward with the same disinterested face, his forelegs on the top of the desk. “Any questions so far?”
“Yes, when you say ‘unlock the answers they already knew,’ what do you mean exactly?” I asked cautiously. Fresh Coat had touched on the subject briefly earlier, but he hadn’t been particularly clear. Psyche let out a slow, deep sigh.
“It is the belief of myself and my associates that every pony knows the answers to the questions they seek, but that sometimes they may not exactly like those answers. For instance, say a pony is having trouble with a relationship and wants to break it off. It would make sense for said pony would break it off, yes?”
“Well if it is at you said, and the pony truly feels it is best to break it off, then it would make sense for them to break it off,” I agreed slowly. The premise made sense, but I got the sense that he was going somewhere with the question.
“The problem many ponies face is their own emotions. Say that the relationship is very troublesome, but that these two ponies have known each other for years. Their families are very close, and they’ve always had little tiffs like this, but the last one was the straw that broke the camel's back. Now it becomes a bit less clear, as the client may struggle with the need to protect that bond and the need to just let go.” He rested his head upon his folded hooves. “What once came across as a very simple answer is now muddled by a mixture of feelings even if, fundamentally, the answer has still not changed.”
Psyche’s glasses began to slowly slide down his muzzle and he pushed them back into place. “Answers that are considered ‘ugly’ can often be hard for ponies to accept. We’re here to help them recognize what’s causing their distress but then also provide them with a safe place to uncover the answer that they already have. My associates and I have a variety of methods that each of us employ. Now tell me, why do you think Fresh Coat recommended you to this place?”
“My special talent,” I blurted out without thinking. As he had been talking, it sort of clicked, why New Scene and Fresh Coat had suggested that I speak with Psyche. Speaking of the stallion, he frowned at my curt answer and raised an eyebrow.
“Can you please elaborate?” He replied patiently.
“S-sorry. You see, my special talent is a type of dream magic. It allows me to enter the dreams of other ponies. When I’m in the dream, I see things - naturally what the sleeping pony is seeing - but also the other small details that occupy the space. What I see there can tell me a lot about an issue that a pony is facing or give me an idea about what is bothering them.” My answer wasn’t eloquent, collected, or concise in any manner. I bit my lip and squirmed a bit nervously.
“Have you ever used your gift in a way to help other ponies and do you have adequate control of it?” Psyche still looked indifferent, but I swore that his eyes were just slightly more open.
“Well, yes and no, you see I-” Before I could finish the sentence, we were interrupted. Psyche fell backwards out of his chair and I flinched as the front doors of the office swung open. With a loud bang, the sense of calm and quiet was shattered. I had never really understood the expression ‘my heart was in my throat.’ The very notion of an organ moving locations just because a pony was scared seemed ludicrous. More concerning to my past-self was the idea that somepony had specifically chosen to describe their fears in such a manner. However, at present, that description was making plenty of sense.
I swallowed nervously. I could feel my heartbeat throughout my body as my pulse began to slowly return to its normal pace. At the desk, Psyche was just getting himself collected again, pushing his glasses back into place. While he was trying to remain the picture of calm, I could see that his jaw was clenched and he was clearly a bit displeased.
“Oh, Dr. Psyche, it - it’s just awful! Those same terrible nightmares keep coming back. I know you said I would need time and that it would get better, but... I can’t keep living like this.” Having recovered a bit more, I was able to pay somewhat closer attention to the pony.
The distraught pony appeared to be either a very masculine mare or effeminate stallion. I won’t lie, it was hard to tell. They had a rather angular face and a rather sturdy build, but these features were overshadowed by their apparent distress. Beneath their eyes were deep purple bags, their sclera was red and irritated, and their mane was disheveled.
“Now, now. Has nothing I recommended been of help to you?” Psyche said in a calm, slow, deliberate voice. I blinked for a moment; it was odd that he had chosen to not address this pony by name or express more concern, and I could only conclude that it had something to do with me being here. The other pony nodded as Psyche patted his back gently. The intention was clearly well-meant but his movements appeared to be stiff and robotic. “I’m sorry to hear that. As I said before, though… I’m not confident that I have the skills to assist you. We’ve attempted to resolve this issue with every specialist we have at our disposal.”
“Please, isn’t there anything more you can do?! S-Some spell you could perform to make them go away? I’m willing to try anything!” the pony pleaded with Psyche. The tan stallion sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before glancing in my direction. A small smile was forming on his lips.