Dream Root

Dream Root, Silene’s mystic hold,

In Xhosa visions, secrets told.

When night draws near, its flowers unfurl,

Prophetic journeys start to swirl.

 

β-carbolines in roots concealed,

Through serotonin paths, revealed.

Yet caution, dreamer, be your shield,

For waking ties may come unsealed.

 

Sacred plant of healers’ rite,

Guardian of the dreamer’s plight.

In sandy soils, a thirsting sight,

Bridging realms from day to night.

-August-

It was there again, staring, with its creepy porcelain mask right outside the window of Mandrake Manor, waving several hands at them. And again, August stood there frozen as the damn thing tilted its head to the side. This was exactly how people died in horror movies, and August realized now why everyone freezes, no matter how much you yell at the screen.

"You look so tired," it whispered, pressing a pale white hand against the glass.

Of course, August was tired. Exhausted, even. This had been going on for weeks. They were ready to just open the damn window and get whatever hellish nightmare this was over with. Maybe they could work out a schedule. This creep-ass thing could haunt August once every other week, and August could actually sleep on the other days. That would be reasonable, right?

"Go away!" August shouted.

Dark sand started pouring in through the window frame, collecting on the sill before spilling onto the ground. "Let me help."

August squeezed their eyes shut and muttered, "Wake up. Wake up. Wake—"

And then, they bolted upright in bed, sand flaking off them and onto their sheets.

They were hyperventilating, looking at every dark corner of the room, expecting to see that damn face.

Nothing was there. They were safe. Awake and in the manor.

Their breathing slowed as they replayed the dream.

They were in the Manor, in their dream sanctuary, and... and...

The memory was already fading away. A nightmare that rattled them awake but failed to stick. They looked down at their dark blue sheets, watching the little granules of dark sand vanish into nothing.

I'm losing my mind, August thought as they ran a hand over their shaved head. The stubble was getting long. They blinked a few times, focusing on the mushroom-patterned wallpaper that had a silvery glow from the moonlight.

Dude whined and shoved his wet nose against August's arm. The Australian Shepherd had been glued to their bed for days, his bright blue eyes locked on August with a look that screamed I don't know what's wrong, but I know something's wrong, and I'm going to stay RIGHT HERE until you fix it.

"I'm fine, buddy," August lied, patting him on the head.

Dude whined louder and rolled over for belly rubs. He was good at calling their bullshit while also being so damn cute.

August reached for their nightstand and picked up the silver ring stacked on top of a pile of books they'd meant to read, at some point. The joys of a never-ending to-be-read pile. The ring was designed to resemble a wrapped feather and served as a protective charm. Ragana had given it to them last month when they'd been complaining about their sleep feeling off. She'd also given explicit instructions to charge it regularly. The metal was cold to the touch, and due to August's forgetfulness, completely void of magic.

So that was great. They had one job: maintain a simple protection charm, and they'd failed. Typical.

But their dreams, or nightmares, were getting to them. Granted, they couldn't remember them except when Ragana was there, teaching them the basics of dreamwalking.

At least those lessons were good, but even Ragana needed to get actual restful sleep sometimes.

The clock read 3:27 a.m. Back at college, this would be their prime writing time: just before anyone else got up, when that strange fog lingered between being awake and asleep. But they'd had more poor sleep than not, and August hadn't written anything in weeks.

Their laptop sat closed at their desk by the window, collecting dust and cobwebs from being abandoned. Last time they used it, they stared at a blank page for two hours. Chapter Twelve was waiting, the big break into act two. It was right there, in their head. Somewhere.

It would probably never come. They'd had a little inspiration from Ragana, but even her endless owlattes and buns weren't enough to cut through the fog. They were just another writer who never finished anything. Another writer who would be forgotten and—

Okay, enough. The self-pity spiral doesn't help anyone.

Things are better here. They literally live in an old Victorian manor in a neighborhood full of strange, magical things. They have two friends who don't judge them, unlike whatever three-bedroom apartment they'd end up in back in LA. They helped save the neighborhood from becoming some Stepford suburbia. And they have Ragana, the most beautiful soul of a person August has ever met.

Oh, and August is a witch. They have magic. They have the grimoire to help them.

Right?

They're the dreamwalker of the coven. The one who uses their dreams to foretell any danger.

That's what they should be doing. That's what Ragana is training them to do.

A voice carried from outside their door. Mat, the head of their little coven, was awake. "I know. Yeah, I'm ready. First meeting in a few hours."

Right. Mat's first HOA meeting now that he'd been voted in. He was so nervous about it, but the community rallied around him, begging him to accept their vote.

August was stressed out just seeing all the paperwork Mat had to fill out. It was one of the reasons why they didn't tell Mat about the dreams. It would be too much, but they needed to talk to someone.

They stood and pulled their brown robe on over their pajamas before heading out the bedroom door.

Frankie's room was right across from theirs, their wonderful and eccentric neighbor. Well, ex-neighbor, as of three weeks ago when Frankie stopped coming to the house. August still didn't know exactly why, but Frankie was always apologizing whenever he and Remmy came home in the early morning after an all-night wolf run.

August missed him, and the pack of dogs that would sometimes sneak into their room and pile on the bed.

The hallway stretched out before them, dark except for light bleeding under Mat's door at the far end. The Manor's old floorboards creaked under August's bare feet as they walked. They could hear Mat's voice more clearly now: "Jacob's been helping. Listen, I should let you go. It's late and I need the sleep."

That had to be Demetri, who'd been gone for three months helping his brother and dad get ready for their move.

August walked down the hall toward Mat's door and raised their hand to knock.

But they stopped midair.

What were they doing again? They needed to tell Mat. Tell him...

August lowered their hand, fingers twisting around the silver ring.

They...

Mat's door opened. He was wearing an emerald-green robe that matched his eyes, ginger hair sticking up in all directions, and a few days' worth of scruff on his jaw. He looked as exhausted as August felt, phone pressed to his ear, but he smiled when he saw them and held up one finger.

"Thanks, I needed that," Mat said into the phone. He covered the phone with one hand. "Everything okay?"

August frowned. They needed to talk to Mat about... something.

Their mouth opened. "Yeah," August managed. "Just wanted to—" Nothing came to mind. "—wish you luck?"

Mat pulled the phone away from his ear. "What?"

August paused. They'd walked over here to tell Mat something. Something they needed help with. But… "Uh... sorry. I think I just had a weird dream."

"Need to talk about it?" Mat asked, concern creasing his forehead. "Was it a prophetic one? Do we need to get Frankie and—"

"No," August stopped him. "No. I think I just heard your voice and sleepwalked over here. Sorry."

"Are you sure? I can hang up."

"No. No. I know you two only get this time for the connection to work. Sorry. Night, Mat."

Mat stood there for a moment, then nodded. "Night, August," and closed the door.

August stayed there, fingers spinning the ring on their thumb.

They were in the hallway for some reason. They spun the ring again. The protection ring Ragana had given them. The one they hadn't charged in... how long had it been?

Right. That's what they needed to do. Charge the ring.

They could do that.

When August reached the library, the lights turned themselves on, warm light spilling into the hallway as they stepped inside.

The room came alive with lamplight bouncing off yellow-flower wallpaper and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with plant guides on the right, and shelves of herb jars lining the left wall. The Mandrake Grimoire sat on its pedestal in the center of the large table, surrounded by stacks of dried plants and the mortar and pestle. It was a witch's dream.

"Why must you and this house conspire to ruin my beauty sleep?" Hel's voice cut into August's mind.

Hel, their villainous-HOA-president-turned-familiar, poked her raccoon snout out from her bright purple princess palace, which was an expensive, glorified dog bed she'd convinced Frankie and Mat she needed. The thing was a plush little tent full of silk cushions and lace trim. It looked completely ridiculous.

"I want to charge this ring," August said, holding up their hand. "For protection. Want to help?"

"Of course you do." Hel hopped out of her elaborate nest and stretched, arching her back. "And the ungodly hour is just because?"

"Yeah. I realized I haven't charged it since Ragana gave it to me, and maybe it will help me get an actual night's sleep."

"Well, you look terrible," Hel added, scurrying across the floor toward the center of the room where the grimoire sat. "Bad dreams?"

"I don't know," August shrugged. "I can't remember them. Except the ones where Ragana and I train."

"Well," Hel stopped in front of the spellbook and rubbed her paws together. "I'm up for a little magic if you are."

The spellbook shuddered under Hel and opened on its own, pages flipping. August stood in front of the book, watching until the pages settled on "Protection Spells," and there, in the center of the page, was a maintenance spell with its ingredient list.

Dream root. Lavender oil. Salt. Spring water. Full moonlight. Personal anchor.

August could do this. They could easily have done this on several occasions. But most of all, they could do this now, at three in the morning, while their brain felt like it was full of fog.

"Grab the dream root," Hel instructed. "Second shelf, left side."

August grinned. "Are you going to boss me through this whole thing?"

"Yes. I'm your familiar." Hel watched as August pulled down a jar containing dried, fibrous roots that looked like gnarled fingers. "Also, someone needs to tell you when you're being an idiot about basic magical maintenance. Might as well be me."

August gathered the rest of the components—lavender oil in a small brown vial, coarse salt from a ceramic jar, spring water from the mason jar, and a shallow stone bowl. They arranged everything on the table near the window where moonlight streamed through the glass, then pulled off their ring and placed it in the bowl.

Dude padded into the library and curled up next to Hel's princess palace, resting his head on the floor. His eyes flitted between Hel and August, worried and watchful.

Hel rubbed her tiny paws together and bared her little teeth. "Let's work some magic."

August adjusted the bowl so it was in the direct path of the moonlight, then filled it with water. They carefully shaved a thin slice of dream root into the bowl to anchor the dreaming mind to the body. Then three pinches of salt, poured counterclockwise into the bowl. Finally, three drops of lavender oil left an iridescent sheen on the water's surface.

August felt their magic rising, an energy that built from the base of their spine to their fingertips. They held their hands over the bowl, moonlight falling across their fingers, and gave Hel a slight nod.

Together, they chanted:

"By water stilled in moonlit sight,
This charm is bound for dream and night.
Let false thoughts fade, let seams lie clean,
And set the ward as it has been."

Green light flowed from August's hands, seeping into the water and turning the moonlight an eerie green. The dream root glowed bright, and the water steamed.

Hel's magic joined in, looking like little threads of green that weaved and joined August's, guiding it and causing the root to glow brighter.

Then tiny purple sparks erupted from her paws like little roman candles, bouncing off the water and bursting.

They shot through the green magic, tearing it apart and sending a numbing pain through August's hands. Hel jerked her paws back with a sharp hiss, rubbing her little pads.

"You okay?" August asked, rubbing their own hands.

"Fine." Hel examined her paws, flexing her tiny fingers. "That was old Henbane magic, though. I didn't think I had any left."

The ring sat at the bottom of the now-empty bowl, water and components completely vanished. August picked it up carefully. The silver was warm now, and there was a faint energy that pulsed from within.

August slipped it onto their thumb.

"Better?" Hel asked.

"Much." August flexed their hand, feeling the warmth settle over them like a protective embrace. "Thank you."

"Thank me when you don't wake me up at three in the morning tomorrow." Hel climbed back toward her princess bed, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. "August? If you do wake me tomorrow at three in the morning, I will bite you."

August blinked. "Are you... being serious?"

"Do you want to find out?" Hel bared her teeth, then settled into her cushions, pulling purple silk around herself.

"I... do not."

"Good." She tucked herself into her nest. "Now go away and sleep."

August patted their leg to get Dude's attention. "Come on, buddy."

Both of them headed toward the living room. The couch seemed like a better place to crash than climbing the stairs back to their room, and exhaustion was hitting them hard.

The living room was massive and dark, the window nook streaming in just enough moonlight to see. August reached the large claw-foot sofa across from the wooden mantle fireplace with black iron and brass filigree, catching what little light shone through.

August collapsed onto the overstuffed sofa and pulled a collection of blankets over themself. Dude hopped up and settled on their feet with a long sigh, resting his head on August's shin.

August spun the ring on their thumb a few times.

Everything would be fine now.

August's breathing slowed to match Dude's. Their eyes drifted closed, and sleep pulled at them.