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An open book who seemed to have some serious issues with being outdoors after dark. He seemed absolutely incapable of stepping closer to me as long as the front door was open. What was his issue? Was he phobic? Did he owe vampires money? I opened the door a bit wider, and he immediately took another step back.
“Somehow I don’t think so. Good night,” I said, slipping into the moonlight and closing the door behind me.
5
Dream journeys are rare and beautiful gifts. If you are blessed with a spirit guide, it’s best not to sass him.
—Have You Ever Seen a Dream Walking:
A Beginner’s Guide to Otherworldly Travel
The judgmental panda bear was not amused by my rich fantasy life.
I was in the middle of one of my usual “Daniel Craig is hypothermic and needs your body heat to survive” dreams when, suddenly, Daniel morphed into Jed. And in my subconscious, a low-core-temperature Jed is a randy Jed. Sadly, my neighbor and his pouty, slightly blue lips disappeared before things could get interesting. I was left wearing some strange, quilted clothing, walking up the foothills of a densely forested mountain. But instead of trees, I was carefully picking my way through bamboo stalks two and three stories high. The air was cool and fragrant with the green scent of growth and turned earth. To my left, a fat panda sat hunched against a rock, munching on a stalk of his favorite green treat and giving me a look that said, “Like you would have a shot with Daniel Craig, you silly twit.”
“I thought panda bears were supposed to be all sweet and cuddly,” I muttered, stepping carefully around an outcropping of jagged rock.
“In my experience, they can be nasty little sneaks,” a slightly creaky voice said. My head snapped up, and I found a thin, elderly version of Mr. Wainwright sitting before me on the outcropping. He was sitting cross-legged, wearing the same sort of quilted pajama-style jacket and trousers I’d donned. “Especially if they think you have something edible on your person. Lost a pair of pants to a panda once. Lesson learned: do not keep beef jerky in your front pocket.”
My jaw dropped, and my eyes flicked toward the panda, whose baleful expression now said, “Don’t look at me. I’m only here for the buffet.”
“What is this?” I whispered.
“This is a dream,” he said, stretching a cool, dry hand toward mine. And when I was unable to respond, he shook it gently. “And I’m your grandfather, or at least, your subconscious’s idea of what your grandfather would look and sound like. Can I just say it’s wonderful to meet you? I have to say I’m a little surprised it took you this long to show up. But no matter, we’re here now, and we can get to know each other under the watchful eye of that gluttonous panda.”
“Mr. Wainwright? Really?”
“I never thought—I never dreamed I would have this opportunity.” As he smiled broadly, his eyes disappeared. “Do you think you could call me Grandpa?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think I can,” I said, my face still frozen in an expression of shock and confusion. “Can you tell me where you stashed the Elements, so I can pick them up and can go home?”
“No, I told you, I’m not really your grandfather. I’m a figment of your subconscious. I don’t have any answers or information that you don’t already know.”
“That’s supremely unhelpful.”
Mr. Wainwright frowned. “Isn’t there anything you’d like to ask me that’s not related to the Elements?”
I stared at this sweet-faced old man with his conical straw hat. There were a lot of questions running through my head at the moment, most of them more hostile than I’d anticipated. How could he have abandoned my grandmother, who loved him? Did he realize how different my mother’s life would have been—how different she would have been—if he’d stuck around? Did he really want to know me, or was this only his way of socializing now that he was dead?
I kind of wanted to slug him, which was just confirmation that the panda was right to judge me.
“No,” I told him. “I didn’t come here for a family reunion. I came here because Nana left the task to me. I didn’t have a choice.”
Mr. Wainwright eyed me speculatively. “Well, I see Fiona passed her obstinate nature on to you. Good for you, I suppose. I guess I wouldn’t want you to make this too easy for me.”
“What exactly is ‘this’?” I asked, gesturing at the rural Chinese landscape.
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he said. “It’s your dream. It’s your way of processing all of the information and emotions you’re absorbing. Sometimes people know the answers to their own questions, but they’re either unable or unwilling to express them.”
“So you’re my id’s bitchy spokesman?”
“I’m not comfortable with that label,” he said, wincing.
“Well, it’s my label, and I’m sticking with it.”
Mr. Wainwright lifted a bushy gray eyebrow. “Just to annoy me?” I nodded. “Good girl. Now, since you seem single-minded in your line of conversation, I have a piece of advice for you.”
“What’s that?”
