I am a creator. I have visited many worlds. The old saying is true, a world is merely a stage. In my occupation I get to see them from all sides. I’ve applauded admiringly from the audience and humbly bowed, joining hands with the actors. I have gone behind the red curtain and helped carry off the sets: skies, forests, continents, and beings. I’ve carried worlds off into deep space. Tossed a galaxy idly down a vaporizer, a black hole. Cast a realm years ahead through Time tunnels.
I’ve lived many lives since I was born. I’ve lived among creatures of every oddity. Nothing is strange to me anymore. Nothing excites me. New can not describe all that I have seen, heard, smelt. Neither does old. Everything that is--was--and has always been. I have been called many things because I have been.
Alchemist. Batwing. Bunyip. Byrne. Centaur. Cancer. Countess. Death Dealer. Deer Dancer. Euphogean. Fang. Filker. Fungus. Gansas. Human. Hyalac. Isthmus. Ilker. Iodum. And the list goes on.
But it seems to me the most befitting name is the one that the Ethers give to my kind. That is Dream Weaver, because we bring our thoughts to life. My power comes from the Great Animator, the one who gave Time the power of impermanence, who also gave Life the power of existence, and Death the power of destruction. I am not alone. I have two sisters and nine brothers. The twelve of us live apart. We were born to different mothers, some in different worlds, and have always lived separately. The story of Dream Weavers is a long, winding tale, perhaps someday I will find the time to sit and write about the many worlds and many ways of dream weaving, but later.
This tale is the short end of my long beginning that will explain about what I do in my spare time, away from the tangled business of world building.