was named Kindra. She had yellowed teeth and blue feathers that had turned white with age. She inclined her enormous, ugly head toward Rimble. «We're keeping kinhearth, Father. Care to join us?» «Keeping kinhearth» was the phrase the Mythrrim used to describe their practice of remembering the Presence, and the Greatkin. In the large chamber, wood blazed in a huge stone fireplace. Flames leapt as high as ten feet. Around this fire, the Mythrrim gathered and told the great myths of the world. «What're you telling?» asked Trickster. «The Mythrrim of Origin.» Rimble's expression turned wistful. «That's my favorite.» «I know,» said Kindra with a twinkle in her old eyes. «Here. Sit between my paws, and I'll start over from the beginning. We'll cast the spell of Once Upon.» Rimble sighed happily and climbed inside the large, brindle paws of Kindra.
The ancient Mythrrim Beast cleared her throat. During the telling of the tale she would re-create every sound effect needed to make the story real through her splendid set of vocal cords. Smiling and exposing her yellow teeth, Kindra spoke with authority. ></emphasis
there was no other like Itself. It was very lonely. So to amuse Itself, Great Being dreamed.
It dreamed of civilizations that rose and fell with the seasons of the Ages, of worlds and all the peoples who lived on them: the Two-Leggeds, the Four-Leggeds, the Leafy and the Scaled, the Crawlers, the Winged Ones and the Wild Winds of the Five Directions. And each of these was named kin, for each sprang from the longing of their one Great Parent, sprang and fell back into the silence. There were no witnesses. There was no one to look upon the dreams of Great Being and say, «Good job, Great Being.» Or even, «This one needs a little work.» Troubled and sad, Great Being withdrew into Itself. And dreamed. It dreamed for eons. Finally, the dreams of Great Being became so intelligent that they, too, began to dream. And ask questions. But Great Being could
not answer their questions, for speech did not exist. Life was still hidden,
asleep in incubation. Reality was a divine potential waiting to be released. It was a closed universal—a secret garden of fertile splendor without entrance or exit. Finally, the dreams of Great Being became unruly in their captivity. Like fruit too long on the vine, they became a poison that threatened the sanity
of Great Being Itself. Daily the dreams clamored to be set free. Daily Great Being attempted to do so and could not. The need of both the Dreamer and the Dreams increased a thousand-fold with each Age. Never before had Great Being been beset by such a dire challenge. It thought long and hard about the problem. Then one day, Great Being had a Great Idea. The Idea was called the Real World. The Real World, thought Great Being, would be a clever device through which My dreams might know themselves. And, thought Great Being with pleasure and fear, the Real World might be a device through which I could know Myself as well. For are not My dreams part of Myself? This Idea pleased Great Being very much. It began to feel a little less lonely. But even so, Great Being still lacked the means to make Its dreams real. The desire to make them manifest was there, but the knowledge of how to do it was not. The frustration and despair of Great Being continued to grow along with Its love for Its captive dreams. Great Being tried everything It could think of to release Itself from this bind. It knew It needed to make a change, but change did not exist, either. Thus Great Being could do nothing but wait and hope. In unspeakable sympathy, Great Being suffered the agony of Its voiceless dreams. Still, the pressure increased. The Many and the One reached a terrible impasse. [Since division did not yet exist, either, neither the Many nor the One could see each other. There were no inunctions, no shadows. No plays of light against dark. There was no definition, nor depth perception. All was contained—like a road swallowed by the blinding white of a winter blizzard. Finally, one of Great Being's dreams also had a great idea. This idea was called individuality. The wise little dream decided to practice what it had conceived, and so in time, its small voice grew louder than the rest. Great Being was perplexed
by the continual chatter of this courageous little nag. Great Being was used to hearing the symphony of the spheres inside Its head—in perfect
multi-part harmony, of course. This voice was disrupting the perfect pitch of Great Being. Great Being felt annoyed. It called the noisy dream many names—Disharmony, Disorder, Chaos, and Royal Pain. This did not deter the noisy dream in the least. The noisy dream absorbed all the names and added a few of its own—Murphy, Coyote, the Raggedy Man, Uncle Tompa, and Rimble. In this way, the noisy dream became a creator in its own right. Over time, the noisy dream also developed something more than
intelligence—it developed personality. As Great Being didn't have any of Its own, Great Being finally decided to seek out the Noisy Dream of Many Names and see if Personality was a Good Idea or a Bad Idea. As Great Being drew near to the Noisy Dream, It heard this: «Who am I?» And again. And again. «Who am I?» Great Being could not answer this question, for Great Being could not see the Noisy Dream. In renewed despair, Great Being turned to go. As it did so, the Noisy Dream began to weep. Its small voice trembled with a choking horror: «Am I alone, then?» it asked. The loneliness of the Noisy Dream pierced the pain of Great Being's own cosmic solitude. For a moment, Great Being knew and understood this gabby little dream. Great Being reached toward the sorrowing dream and tried to comfort it. The Noisy Dream felt Great Being's concern. Wailing loudly, the Noisy Dream said: «Is there no other like me? Must I listen to myself for all eternity? What cruelty is this?» Sobbing, it added, «Why me?» Personal melodrama was conceived in this moment. Great Being could not bear to be thought of as cruel by the Noisy Dream, for the simple fact that Great Being knew that It wasn't cruel. Unrealized, perhaps, but not cruel. Great Being decided to Do Something. Great Being concluded that though It might split apart in the process, It would find a
way to prove Its inherent kindness to this loud, disbelieving little dream. In order to do this, however, Great Being knew that It must make a separation of some kind. It must thrust this Noisy Dream away from Itself so that both might see that the other existed. Great Being wondered if this would hurt. Great Being hesitated. What if the Noisy Dream went into the Real World and forgot that Great Being existed? You see, in a strange way, Great Being had come to value the questions of the Noisy Dream. Secretly, Great Being also valued the daring differentness of the Noisy Dream. Could it be that Great Being loved the deviant little thing? Yes. In a moment of unparalleled generosity, Great Being fought against Its own loneliness so that It might free the Noisy Dream from Itself. It was important, reasoned Great Being, for the Noisy Dream to know without doubt that its nature was identical to that of Great Being—kind. With great bravery, Great Being again resolved to free Its only companion from the void. To do this, Great Being would need to use Short Division. Arithmetic was conceived in this moment. Desire and knowledge united—and still a separation Between Dreamer and Dream proved to be an arduous task, As the process began, the clamor of all the dreams trapped inside Great Being increased to deafening proportions. The internal push and pull was grueling. Great Being saw that It would have to release everything in order to release the one different dream that had wept in loneliness. Great Being sighed at the enormity of the challenge—so much work for just one dream. Great Being supposed the Noisy Dream was worth all this trouble. Love decreed it. Great Being sighed again—making no sound. Sound, thought Great Being. Perhaps I should make a sound with my sigh?
And so It tried to do so. At first, the sigh rattled like dry leaves. Then it became smooth like the groan of a distant wind. Now Great Being's sigh
took on the depth and roar of a thundering ocean surf. It sounded like this: «Whhhhhhhhhooooo.» The universes trembled. Suddenly, the Unmanifest poured into the Real
World on the vibration of this divine sigh. Emptiness filled. Life spilled forth with exuberance. Shock waves of sound rippled through Great Being and It released all that was within. This was a bright explosion of Being. For the first time, the universes knew a Great Wildness. Dazed by the variety of form dancing before It, Great Being looked upon all the portions of Itself
and loved. A million billion dreams returned that love a thousand-fold, each according to its own temperament. «There is one of you,» said Great Being shyly. «There is one of you who is sadder than the others—» The Noisy Dream of Many Names cleared its throat. «Well, not exactly—your Presence.» Great Being turned toward the Noisy Dream, regarding it for the first time. The Noisy Dream was a tall, radiant being with an ever-changing face. «You're not sadder than the rest?» «Not exactly.» Great Being felt perplexed. «I thought you—» «Well, I had to make you think I was sadder, see—otherwise you were never going to get off your creative duff and Do Something about the state of things.» «Oh.» said Great Being. «So I was tricked?»
The radiant being considered the question. After a few moments, it said, «If you wish, you may say that I tricked you. Myself, I prefer to think that I helped you Improoove.» «Improve.» «Yeah. That's my nature, you know. I make Improoovements on your ideas.» Great Being frowned. «Did anyone ask you to do this?» The radiant being became indignant. «Well, somebody had to do something about you. Since it was my idea, it might as well be me who gets the credit.» Great Being nodded. «So you'd like all the credit for all the improvements made in the Real World? Even the evolutionary deviances? And—uh—cosmic experiments?» The radiant being grinned. «Especially
