Amy’s life had changed. She was well aware of this, and to be honest she had expected it to be more difficult, but she knew that Morpheus and Bast were magic, so why should things not be as easy as they had been? Magic made things easier right? Like the way the washing machine danced now, cleaning clothes before spitting them into the empty basket. The basket then lifted itself and tipped itself into the equally animate dryer. Amy never grew tired of watching it. It was a good example for how changed her life really was.
No one on the street questioned her presence, and when someone did ask, she was introduced as Alyxa’s neice. She loved Alyxa; Alyxa was the kind of girl she wanted to be when she grew up, all so-fi-sticated and witchy.
Everything at the house was a special occasion in Amy’s eyes: she loved the cooking that Alyxa did, even if the older girl grumbled that most of it never turned out right, but most of all she loved the stories that she was told before bed. Morpheus and Alyxa would stand in the doorway, watching, and Bast would sit on her bed and spin cotton candy tales out of thin air with images that danced over the pale ceiling. She had no idea that she was being educated.
Nor did she have any idea that after sleep came, they would watch her still, until Alyxa grew weary and Morpheus took her to bed, but Bast would watch her, and wait, and when the Dreaming started, the Cat-Goddess would simply nod to herself and slip out the window.
The Dreams were about small things: it would rain next weekend, there would be no salami at the butcher. At the beginning, dreamers always Dream innocently.
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