Imagining Into the Box

Yesterday was hugely busy.  I had face zapping, both with laser and electric needles, and I also had my brows plucked.  The pain wasn’t that bad, though last night and this morning my chin–where I had the electrolysis performed–is oozing like mad; I’ll likely need to redo my makeup there again and again today.  Then there was programming at work and a little bit of fasting:  I only ate breakfast about seven-thirty, and then didn’t have dinner until almost twelve hours later.  And then, slowly but surely, I got back into the story and wrote nearly another five hundred and fifty words.

It is a fact I’m not writing as much right now.  I know why:  I’m tired and coming down off some depression, and that always affects my output.  I’m also doing a lot more editing as I go, but being tired makes getting the words out all that more difficult.  This is one of the reasons why I’m not doing NaNoWriMo this year:  mentally I’m not up for it, and physically I know cranking out seventeen hundred words a day is an impossibility right now.  I’m happy with my ten thousand words every two weeks, so NaNo will just have to do without me.

Where is the story?  It’s almost the end of Christmas Day, and Annie had something on her mind when she went to bed–but, you know, I really should let her tell the story:


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

Annie’s eyes snapped open bringing the bottom of her bed’s canopy into view. A small surge of disappointment flowed through her, because she’d expected to find the gray mist of her dreamspace surrounding her instead. Since her dreamwalking attempt a few weeks before every other attempt ended in failure, either resulting in a normal dream she couldn’t control, or forcing her awake before she could craft the spell properly.

She so wanted to Dreamwalk Kerry tonight. It was Boxing Day in Wales—or would be in ten minutes, according to her clock—and she expected that Kerry would love to see her the night after Christmas. Annie knew he wouldn’t receive her letter until the twenty-seventh at the soonest, and the letter she received from him was sent to her the Saturday after they arrived home. If she were lucky she would hear from him again on the thirtieth, and then he would hear from here on either the second or third of January. She wouldn’t worry about hearing from him by letter after that: she expect to see him in person in Vienna on the fifth of January, where they would start to catch up before returning to school—

It wasn’t enough. She wanted to hear from him as soon as possible. She wanted to see him now.

She threw back the covers and sat on the edge of her bed. Annie was wide awake now: the failure of her dreamwalk pushed away all her sleepiness and put her in the mood to do something—that something being reading. When home, Annie often did her best study late at night when most people were fast asleep. As she walked to the study area set up in the corner near the entrance of her bedroom, the object of her study was a given: How to Craft a proper Dreamwalk spell. She found the volume she wished to read, sat in her easy chair, and set the book in her lap ready for at least an hour of study.

Let me see . . . She waved on the reading light before crossing her legs and flipping open the book to the table of contents. Rereading Chapter Two first would make the most

A puzzled look dropped over her face. She extended her right right left and examined her foot. She was wearing her slipper. She lifted both legs straight out and checked both feet: her slippers were there.

That’s interesting. A smile began forming slowly. I don’t remember putting them on.

Annie set the book on the small table next to her chair before standing. Dream mechanics were a simple thing; if she wanted changed what she wore—

She concentrated and her nightgown changed into her favorite blue flannel pajamas she loved wearing to the Midnight Madness.

—Then all she had to do was dream the outfit.

“I’m in my dreamspace.” She waved opened the curtains reveling the darkness beyond. “If this is really a dream—” She loved seeing world beyond her windows as the sun rose. “—then I should be able to do this . . .”

The yard outside brightened in the first rays of sunlight.

“I’m in a dream.” She started chuckling as she bounced up and down on her toes. “I’m really dreamwalking.”


There’s my happy girl:  all save and sound inside her dream.  This is a huge step for her, because when she woke up in her dreamspace, it wasn’t like before when it was unformulated and in its raw state:  this time she was in a simulation of the world around her, reflecting the area most familiar with her.  Also, Annie does like wearing nightgowns at home; they probably wears a few of them at school, too, but only if she knows she’s not going to have to get up and walk around–that might be embarrassing.

Now that Annie’s in a dream, and she seems to have great control over her own dream space, the question is:  what now?

I think you know what.

The real question is will she take her teddy bear?  And does she own one?  And if not, can she just create a dream one?

The real question is will she take her teddy bear? And does she own one? And if not, can she just create a dream one?