Dream Catchers

Fairies are real. You don’t see us, but we see you.

My name is Issa. I’m a dainty fairy with translucent wings, accented by gleaming patterns. Think Tinker Bell but bigger.

What’s more, I’m a dream fairy, and we are here – among humans – for a reason.

What’s the reason, you wonder? Lucky for you, you’re about to find out.

***

The tingling of the summon starts in my fingertips; its energy coursing through me, swiftly spreading up my arms and making its way throughout my body.

The moment the tingling energy reaches my eyes, I blink. When I open them again, I’m in a small, dimly lit study awash with earthy colors. There’s a bulky wooden desk which holds the only light source in the room: a table lamp roughly the size of yours truly. Sitting on a chair, hunched over the desk, is a male of 28 Earth years.

The young male is mumbling to himself in a slight frenzy, switching back and forth between crunching numbers on a calculator and jutting down his findings on a yellow notepad. After a few more moments of this, he lifts his head and leans back on the chair.

Millenia of practice taught me when to know the time has come. With a twirl of my hand, a small black notebook materializes above my index finger. The pages turn of their own volition until my trusty companion finds the young man’s page.

At the exact moment the pages settle, the young man speaks: “This is it…I’ve done the math and all I need is $20,000. With that money, I can pay off my remaining student loans, put a down payment for a car, and buy Venessa an engagement ring. No more debts to cripple me, no more second-hand piece of junk that keeps breaking down, and I can finally start the rest of my life.”

Unbeknownst to him, the words – propelled by sincerity and intensity of desire – flow out of his mouth and make an undulating path towards my notebook. His dream, brimming with aura, lands on the open page. It burns with the light of a full moon for a brief moment before disappearing into smoke.

I sigh. There isn’t even a faint mark of moonlight left on the page, indicating that the task before me is great.

This is my purpose…this is why a seemingly ordinary young man, anxiously looking over his financials, is able to summon me.

***

Human eyes didn’t evolve to see fairies. The magic emanating from our bodies conceals our presence. However, if we choose, we can manipulate our auras to dim this magical glimmer, which is exactly what I do next.

Michael looks at me…frozen, speechless.

I use my well-practiced ‘no, you’re not going crazy’ tone to say: “Hi Michael, it’s lovely to make your acquaintance. I’m Issa,” I pirouette in the air to display my wings in all their glory. “Yes, I’m a fairy and this is all really happening.”

I can’t read human minds per se but as a magical being in tune with the auras around me, I have empathic abilities that allow me to perceive human emotions and thoughts with great precision.

Finally, Michael speaks. “What are you?”

I put on a charming smile as I reply, “I’m a fairy, silly. A dream fairy, summoned by the energy you just unleashed through your wistful mutterings.”

“I summoned you?”, asks Michael, his shock and disbelief escalating with my every word.

I nod. “Humans – while not magical creatures themselves – have strong auras. Think of it as spiritual energy that, when focused on a specific wish or goal, can influence the physical world,” I point at Michael to emphasize my next words. “What you unknowingly did just now was channel that energy to call out to me and bring me here.”

“So, you are here to make my wishes come true then?” Michael blurts outs with equal amounts of hope and skepticism.

“Not quite,” I reply. “I’m here to offer you the $20,000 you so fervently desire, but on one condition…”

I notice that he slightly relaxes upon hearing that last bit. Conditions. He’s an accountant, so he knows there’s a cost to everything and this whole experience starts to feel more real to him now.

“What’s the condition?”, he asks cautiously.

“Simple, I will give you the $20,000 and once you have it, you can spend it as you please. But first, you must tell me your heart’s true desire.”

Michael protests: “Hold on…Didn’t I already tell you my heart’s true desire while I was ‘summoning’ you? I thought that brought you here in the first place!”

“You wished for $20,000 because some numbers crunched on a calculator told you that’s what you need…it certainly wasn’t your heart’s true desire,” I reply matter-of-factly.

I can sense Michael’s discomfort now. It’s not easy to be called out on the lies you tell yourself by a fairy summoned out of thin air.

“O-kaaay…”, he says slowly, less sure of himself now. “So, I just need to figure out my heart’s true desire and you will gift me the $20,000?”

“Yes and no. You only get one chance to tell me the truth and I’ll see through any self-deception. If you get it wrong, you’ll forget this entire encounter and go back to your life before the summon.”

Michael falls silent again and just lets the weight of my proposal hang in the air. No one wants to forget their encounter with a dream fairy – especially if that fairy is me.

At last, he asks: “How do you know my heart’s true desire?”

“Darling – I am magic. I am as old as time itself. I’ve been collecting dreams since before the primordial soup even formed in the Earth’s oceans.” I point at the treasured leather-bound “Lord of the Rings” box set resting on his desk next to a series of cookbooks and say: “Tolkien was one of the finest dreamers I ever met. I don’t like to brag, but you and the rest of humanity are reading his works thanks to a certain dream fairy standing before you.”

That just earns me more looks of skepticism. Apparently, materializing out of thin air, emitting vast amounts of magical aura and floating on fairy wings isn’t sufficient to prove credibility these days.

“You can take all the time you need. When you’re ready to give me your one and only answer, just say the words ‘Issa, my dream is yours to collect’ and I’ll appear,” I add with finality.

With a swish of my hair I unleash my aura and let magical glimmer veil my presence. I will stay at his side until he calls to me, but he will never know I’m there.

***

For the next few weeks, Michael makes it his mission to talk to everyone he knows about their goals and pick their brains on the topic of what his heart’s true desire might be.

His parents repeat what they’ve told him his whole life: “Buy a house, marry a good girl, have kids and visit often.”

His girlfriend, Venessa, is a kindergarten teacher and she’s already found what fulfills her. As such, her advice is sweet but vague: pursue “whatever makes you happy”.

His friends advise him to create his own accounting business, put his mathematical mind to investing, or go after other ventures that are popular and admired among guys his age.

Deciding that the answer must come from within, Michael starts keeping a journal, full of musings and fantasies, with drawings of fairies in the margins. Every now and then, he writes a recipe on one of the pages, crossing out the steps and ingredients that don’t speak to him and replacing them with bolder renditions. He makes a point of not doing any calculations or writing down any numbers. In our brief yet transformative encounter, it seems I succeeded in making one thing clear: You can’t calculate your heart’s true desire.

***

One night, many moons after the summon, Michael cooks for Venessa a recipe he jotted down in his own small black notebook. A taco recipe, combining two meats, three types of peppers and a savory cilantro-filled pineapple salsa concoction.

Venessa takes one bite out of the soft-shell tacos before loudly exclaiming: “Oh Michael, you’re a culinary genius! This – this – is what you should be doing!”

Michael immediately responds, “Oh, shush…anyone can make tacos,” but deep down he feels a tiny little spark timidly step out of its hiding spot and shine a little brighter at the praise. Cooking has always been something he savors, but never put conscious thought into.

While Venessa gorges on the delectable dinner before her, Michael takes a moment to ruminate on what cooking means for him. Whenever he closes his Excel sheets and picks up his spatula, he feels a surge of energy and a sense of true joy. Not to mention he gets immense pleasure from having his loved ones taste and appreciate his cooking. Words like “divine” and “to die for” are often tossed around on such occasions, but he’s always shrugged them off, having long ago convinced himself that the praise of friends and family don’t count. He’s never let himself dream that he might have a gift...until now.

I watch Michael’s aura intensify as he ponders these things and goes on an emotional rollercoaster ride of self-discovery. I open my little black notebook and let his dream flow into it. This time his dream settles down on the open page, permanently saved in moonlight-silver gilded letters.

***

Later that night, Michael speaks out loud the words I gave him to use when he’s ready. I dim my magical aura and he gasps at the sight of me. I let out a soft giggle at his reaction and flutter my wings.

“Congratulations!”, I say with a big grin.

He smiles back. “So, you already know?”

“I’ve always known…I was simply trying to get your heart and mind on the same page.”

He lowers his gaze, unwilling to look me in the eyes, as he asks: “Will you tell me why, out of 7.8 billion humans, you’ve chosen to help me, guide me?”

“Who says you are the only one?”, I say coyly. Michael raises his eyebrows, urging me to keep explaining, so I indulge him.

“Humans have two kinds of aura: conscious and unconscious. When these two auras are out of sync, great catastrophes can happen, both at a personal and cosmic scale. Dream fairies – such as I – work to resolve the discord between conscious and unconscious aura to create harmony.”

Michael, still unconvinced, presses me further. “Why does it matter if humans achieve harmony? Why are fairies – creatures of magic – working so hard to help meaningless human lives find fulfillment?”

I shake my ancient little head… “Who ever said your life was meaningless? It’s humans like you, who achieve a semblance of cosmic balance within themselves, that propel humanity and the universe forward. Some humans have great potential but need a magical nudge to realize their heart’s true desire.”

Michael lets out a loud exhale, refusing to wrap his head around my words. “Okay, I get Tolkien…but…me?”

“World War I did a real number on Tolkien and it took a long time to get him to accept the power of his imagination. You are no different. You carry gifts – uncharted culinary worlds – within you that only you can share with the rest of humanity. You need only have the bravery to own it, foster it…and share it.”

With those final words, I release my full magical aura and vanish from Michael’s sight in a show of light and fairy dust. Hidden behind my glimmer, I leave a $20,000 check on his desk, knowing full-well what he’s going to use it for.

And that’s when I feel it again…the tingle in my fingertips.