The Seller of Dreams

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Rest well.

Once upon a time, a mother called her only son

into the kitchen, gave him a basket of fine, fresh eggs,

and bade him carry them to his aunt Jane,

who lived a few miles down the valley.

The son, a lively lad, about 12 years of age,

obeyed his mother with joy, and clapping his little green hat

on his head stepped forth into the road.

It was a beautiful clear morning in the spring,

and the earth, released from the icy chains of winter,

was rejoicing in her freedom and the return of the sun.

A few birds just back from the Southland,

rocked on twigs swollen with bursting buds,

a thousand rills flowing from everywhere,

and in every direction sparkled and sang,

and the air was sweet with the odor of plowed fields.

The boy, whose name was Peter, walked along whistling,

suddenly he saw a spot on the road shining as dazzlingly

as if a bit of the sun itself had fallen to the earth,

a bit of glass thought, Peter,

but it was not a bit of glass after all,

but a fine golden floor in which must have dropped

from somebody's purse.

Peter stopped, picked up the gold piece,

put it in his pocket, and walked off whistling louder than ever.

In a little while, he came to a place

where the road wound down a little hill,

and Peter saw, trudging up this hill,

a very strange-looking old man.

He was a very old man.

His face was puckered up into a thousand wrinkles

like the skin of a shrunken apple,

and he had long, snow-white hair and a white beard

which reached almost to his waist.

Moreover, he was strangely dressed in a robe of cherry scarlet

and wore golden shoes.

From a kind of belt hung two horns on silver chains.

One in ordinary cow's horn,

the other a beautiful horn carved of the whitest ivory

and decorated with little figures of man and animals.

Dreams to sell, dreams to sell,

called out the old man as soon as he caught sight of Peter.

Don't you want to buy a dream, young man?

What kind of dreams have you asked, Peter?

Good, bad, true, false.

All kinds replied the seller of dreams.

I even have a few thrilling nightmares.

Dreams to sell, dreams to sell.

How much does a dream cost, asked Peter?

A golden flooring answered the merchant.

All have one, please, said Peter,

and he handed over the flooring he had found.

The old man took a kind of wonderful sugar plum

out of the ivory horn and gave it to Peter to eat.

You will have the dream next time you sleep,

said he and trudged on.

So Peter continued his journey,

stopping every once in a while to look back

at the strange old man who was slowly climbing the hill.

At length, Peter came to a little quiet grove of pines,

and there he sat down on a big stone

and ate the luncheon which his mother had prepared for him.

The sun was high in the heavens.

It was close on to high noon.

Now as Peter was contentedly munching his bread and cheese,

he heard at first far away,

then quite near at hand,

the clear notes of a coachman's horn.

The notes of the second call died away

in a great pattering of hoofs and tinkling of little bells,

and suddenly arriving in a great swirl of yellow dust

came a magnificent coach,

drawn by twelve white horses.

A lady very richly dressed in wearing many sparkling diamonds

sat within the coach.

To Peter's astonishment,

the lady was his aunt Jane.

The coach stopped with a great jingling of the twelve harnesses,

and Aunt Jane leaned out of the window and said to Peter,

what are you doing here, child?

I was on my way to your cottage

with a basket of fine fresh eggs answered Peter.

Well, it's fortunate I found you, said Aunt Jane,

for I have given up living in the cottage

and have now got a castle of my own.

Jump in, Peter, and don't forget your basket.

So Peter climbed into the coach,

closed the door behind him and was driven away.

The coach went over hill and down Dale.

It went through strange forests

from whose branches green,

parrots whooped and shrieked.

It rolled through valleys and strains shining mountains.

Peter stole a look at Aunt Jane

and saw that she was wearing a crown.

Are you a queen, Aunt Jane, he asked?

Indeed I am, replied his aunt.

You see, Peter, two days ago,

while I was looking for my white cow

who had strayed away,

I came upon the magnificent castle

to which we are now going.

It has four beautiful towers

and a door set with diamonds.

Whose castle is this, I said to the lodgekeeper.

It's nobody's mom, said he.

What said I?

Do you mean to say that nobody owns this fine castle?

That's just what I mean to say mom answered he.

The castle belongs to anyone who wants it.

So into the castle I walked

and I didn't go out, you may be sure

till I had been into every room that I could find.

Then I put on these clothes and these diamonds

which I found in a cupboard

and went down and told the servants

I intended to be queen.

You see, Peter dear,

there's nothing that a woman of determination

and energy can't accomplish.

The coach rolled on

and soon Peter caught sight of Aunt Jane's castle.

It was rather large

and had an enormous round tower at each corner,

a thing which brought to Peter's mind

the picture of an elephant lying on its back.

Do you think you could eat a little more

of something, said Aunt Jane,

taking off her white-kid gloves?

Because if you can,

I'll have a place set for you at the luncheon table.

And Peter, who, like all boys,

could eat a little more anywhere and at any time,

readily answered, yes.

So Peter and Aunt Jane sat down

to a wonderful little table

covered with a snow-white cloth.

Draw your chair nearer, Peter dear, said Aunt Jane.

I can't, said Peter.

It stuck to the floor.

And so it was.

The chair was stuck to the floor

and no amount of pushing

or pulling could budge it.

That's odd, said Aunt Jane,

but never mind.

I'll push the table over to the chair.

But like the chair,

the table refused to budge.

Peter then tried to slide his plate of soup

closer to him,

but the plate, which the servant had placed on the cloth

but an instant before,

had evidently frozen to the table

in some extraordinary manner

and could not be moved in inch.

The soup in the plate, however,

was not fastened to the dish,

nor were the wonderful strawberry cakes

and the delicious ices with which the dinner closed.

You don't suppose this castle is enchanted,

do you Aunt Jane asked, Peter?

Not a bit of it replied Aunt Jane.

And even if it were,

she continued recklessly.

I shouldn't mind

for there's nothing that a woman

of determination and energy can't accomplish.

There was a pause.

And then Aunt Jane added,

I am going to have some guests

to dinner this evening.

So run around and amuse yourself

as well as you can.

There's ever so much to see in the castle

and in the garden,

there's a pond with swans in it.

Attended by her servants,

Aunt Jane majestically walked away.

Peter spent the afternoon

exploring the castle.

He went through room after room.

He scurried through the attics like a mouse

and was even lost for a while in the cellars.

And everywhere he went,

he found everything immovable.

The beds, tables and chairs

could neither be moved about nor lifted up.

And even the clocks and vases

were mysteriously fastened to their places on the shelves.

The night came on.

Coach after coach rolled up to the diamond door

which sparkled in the moonlight.

When the guests had all arrived

a silver trumpet sounded.

And Aunt Jane dressed in a wonderful gown

of flowering brocade edged with pearls

came solemnly down the great stairway of the castle hall.

Two little black boys dressed in oriental costume

and wearing turbans held up her gorgeous train.

And she looked very grand indeed.

Peter to his great surprise

found himself dressed in a wonderful suit

of plum-colored velvet.

Welcome, my friends, said Queen Jane,

who had opened a wonderful ostrich feather fan.

Are we not fortunate in having so beautiful

a knight for our dinner?

And the queen giving her arm

to a splendid personage in the uniform

of an officer of the King's Dragoons

led the way to the banquet hall.

The wonderful party hall silks and satins

and gleaming with jewels

swept like a peacock's tail behind her.

Soon dinner was over,

and the guests began to stray by twos

and threes to the ballroom.

Aunt Jane and the soldier led off the grand march.

Then came wonderful stately minuetes, quadrilles,

and sweet old fashioned waltzes.

The merriment was at its height

when somebody ran heavily up the great stairs

leading to the ballroom,

and the guests turning round to see

whence came the clatter,

saw standing in the doorway

a strange old man dressed in a robe of cherry scarlet

and wearing golden shoes.

It was the cellar of dreams.

His white hair was disheveled,

his robe was a rye,

and there was dust on his golden shoes.

Foolish people screamed the old cellar of dreams,

his voice rising to a shriek.

Run for your lives!

This castle is under a terrible enchantment.

In a few minutes it will turn upside down.

Have you not seen that everything is fastened

to the floor run for your lives?

Immediately there was a great babble of voices,

some shrieks and more confusion,

and the guests ran pale meld down the great stairs

and out the castle door,

to Peter's dismay Aunt Jane was not among them.

So into the castle he rushed again,

calling at the top of his voice,

Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane!

He ran through the brilliantly lit and deserted ballroom.

He saw himself running in the great mirrors of the gallery,

Aunt Jane he cried, but no Aunt Jane replied.

Peter rushed up the stairs leading to the castle tower

and emerged upon the balcony.

He saw the black shadow of the castle

throwing upon the grass far below by the full moon.

He saw the great forest so bright above

and so dark and mysterious below,

and the long, snow-clad range of the adamant mountains.

Suddenly a voice louder than the voice of any human being,

a voice deep ringing and solemn as the sound

of a great bell cried,

to his time.

Immediately everything became as black as ink.

People shrieked in the enchanted castle

rolled like a ship at sea,

and leaning too far to one side began to turn upside down.

Peter felt the floor of the balcony tip beneath him.

He tried to catch hold of something,

but could find nothing.

Suddenly with a scream he fell.

He was falling, falling, falling, falling.

When Peter came to himself,

instead of its being night, it was still noon day,

and he was sitting on the same stone

in the same quiet roadside grove

from which he had caught sight of his Aunt Jane

in her wonderful coach.

A blue-jay screamed at him from overhead.

For Aunt Jane, the coach in the enchanted castle,

had been only a dream.

Peter, you see, had fallen asleep under the pines,

and while he slept, he dreamed of the dream

he purchased from the cellar of dreams.

He's very glad to still be alive.

Peter rubbed his eyes, took up his basket of eggs,

and went down the road whistling.

End of the Cellar of Dreams by Henry Beston.

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