"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible."
- T.E. Lawrence

"You know, I think I like this look," said Susanna, drying Vincent off with the skirt of her dress. She held it in both hands and tilted it back and forth, rolling him from one side of the fabric valley to the other. She found it amusing to watch him tumble to and fro like a log. Vincent was a little less thrilled.

"I'll have you know--oof!--that that was my favorite...shirt!" he shot back facetiously amid the undulations.

"Just be glad that it was all you lost," Susanna smiled. "I could have eaten your pants, too."

"Ha ha, very funny."

All jests aside, Susanna did take notice that Vincent looked pretty good shirtless. He had an athletic build, with broad shoulders and prominent pectorals. He was not a rippling hulk--well, that is, he would not have been had he been human-sized. Susanna estimated that if he was, he would probably be around six feet tall. He had a lean muscularity to him. As it were, Susanna silently bemused that his "six-pack" abs would be more appropriately called "six-pebble," or maybe "six-pinhead" abs.

"It was particularly a shiny shirt," Susanna said, recalling its glimmering sheen. "Where did you find clothes your size anyway? Did you make them?"

"I did. It wasn't easy, either," Vincent replied, hopping onto one of Susanna's knees, which were folded with her legs in her arms. He had decided that he was "dry enough," though his hair was still a mess. Susanna tried to arrange it with her pinky finger, but Vincent insisted that he liked it that way.

"Oh, so you're a tailor, then?" she asked. Susanna fancifully imagined Vincent with a tiny loom and a miniscule needle and thread, at work at an equally miniature worktable.

"No. I conjured them up, just like these flowers. It required a lot of concentration, though. I only had a vague vision of what clothing looked like. It took me several attempts, but once I was successful, I made several sets."

This piqued Susanna's interest. "You have a whole wardrobe? Where?"

"At home, of course. You don't suppose I carry all my things with me everywhere I go, do you?" he said with a wry wink.

"But I thought this glade was your home?"

"I am here often, but I live elsewhere. As a matter of fact, I was traveling here from my home when I first saw you emerging from the woods yesterday."

"I remember. It was hard to tell what you were at first, you were moving so fast. I thought you were some sort of...strange bird," said Susanna.

"A strange bird? Well!" Vincent huffed, feigning indignation.

"And what? Was I suppose to immediately presume you that you must a two-inch tall flying man? I'll have you know that that was my second assumption."

"Is that so?" asked a sarcastic Vincent.

"No, actually it wasn't." Susanna teased, "...I thought you were a bug."

At that, Vincent folded his arms and blew Susanna a raspberry. In response, she gave him a quick and gentle poke with her finger. He went tumbling off her knee, down her shins, and landed in a comical position: his butt in the air and his head stuck between two of her toes. He flailed his hands around, trying to free himself, but to no avail. She lightly squeezed her toes together enough to keep him captive, though not enough to harm him. After being sufficiently amused, she plucked him up and carried him to her face.

"Vincent, will you take me there, to you home?" she asked.

"It's nothing extraordinary," a dizzy Vincent replied. "I'm rarely there. Besides, it's some distance from here, and..."

"Please?" Susanna inquired with pleading doe eyes, her amber irises in full view. She continued her plea. "And you need to get another shirt! That is, unless you'd rather try to retrieve your other one," said Susanna, looking down at her stomach and giving it a couple of pats. "But you may not want it now..."

"Oh no, I think that's quite alright!" Vincent said, his voice cracking. He was still at little uneasy when thinking about that whole misadventure. "I suppose you do have a point. It will be getting chilly. Very well: I'll take you there."

"Yay!" Susanna squealed in excitement.

"But we'll have to leave soon, though," Vincent forewarned. "In the air, the journey takes me at least an hour. On foot, I suppose it would take us many more."

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Susanna was already quickly running to where she had slipped her sandals off earlier when she had first found the glade. It took her a few moments to find them: since then, a patch of buttercups had bloomed on top of them.

Together, Susanna and Vincent left the glade where they had met, with Vincent leading the way. At first, he stayed to the ground. He was running along at a quick pace, but was still unable to keep up with Susanna's long strides. In addition, Susanna was a little worried about having Vincent so close to her feet. Even though he was keeping a safe distance away, she still was very careful and concerned as to where she stepped.

In truth, Vincent was slightly distracted, as he could not keep his eyes of Susanna. Her very movements entranced him. This was the first time he had truly considered how tall she was compared to him. By his measure, she towered over two hundred feet--more than thirty times his size. She was a moving mountain! And yet, her strides were nimble and elegant, as if every step belonged in a dance; just by her nature, she made a waltz out of walking.

Vincent found his eyes being drawn to Susanna's shapely legs, which he could just barely see from under her dress. Vincent was not being intentional in his peering; he did not want to be accused of impropriety. Her dress reached down to just above her ankles--still over ten feet from the ground. However, at one point the wind did catch it in a such a way that caused her skirt to fly halfway up her calf. Susanna let out a peep and swiftly caught it before too much was seen, but there was enough to allow Vincent's mind to wander and wonder about that which was further above... She possessed a womanly figure with delicate feminine curves. Neither petite nor buxom, she was the happy medium in between.

To avoid temptation (and more importantly to avoid being accidentally caught underfoot), Vincent took a running leap forward and bounded powerfully into the air. He rose to the level of Susanna's eyes, a convenient height for leading the way. She still found it amusing to see him resume his jogging, taking no heed of the laws of gravity. However, it became apparent before too long that their pace needed to be improved. While Susanna was enjoying the stroll through the flowers, it had taken them ten minutes just to reach the edge of the glade. If Vincent's home was as far away as he had implied, it was going to take them the entire day at this rate.

"Vincent?" she asked. "I don't mean any disrespect at all by asking this, but...is it possible for you to go faster?"

Vincent faced Susanna, continuing on while walking backwards. "Not fast enough for you, eh? That's a fair question. The truth is that I can fly as fast as the hawks above--faster actually (but don't ask me why I know that...) The more difficult challenge is flying slow. That takes true concentration."

"You always speak of concentrating," Susanna interjected with another question. "Do your abilities ever wear you out? I mean, I know than in school, thinking too hard over long periods of time could induce stress headaches."

"Actually," Vincent explained, "quite the opposite is true. Invoking my 'powers' is a matter of losing focus. It is about letting go and allowing my mind to relax and find peace. It is then, in that place of rest, that I can imagine that which I want to achieve. I picture it in my mind's eye and I will it to be. And before I know it, I'm a hundred feet in the air, or staring at a field of flowers, et cetera."

A dreamer of the day, thought Susanna. "You dream," she concluded, "and it becomes possible."

"Um...yes. That's a fairly apt way of putting it."

Susanna thought on this for a moment, continuing along through the trees in silence. "You may not realize this Vincent," she said in an earnest voice, "but you have been blessed with a powerful and tremendous gift. Many a man--of any size--would be very jealous of you. I cannot help but wonder if perhaps there is more that you can do that, things that you have never even...dreamt of doing."

Vincent pondered these words. He would remember them.

Susanna and Vincent emerged from the woods and came upon the little brook that first led her to the glade. Standing as vigil as ever were Lydia and Dan, the twin willow trees. Susanna "introduced" them to Vincent, and he to them. She shared with him some of her memories from that place: of discovering a robin's nest in Lydia's branches and admiring the azure eggs nestled within; of falling from said tree branch and landing on the rocks below; of being an hour late for dinner after limping home. Susanna pointed out a small scar on her left shin that testified to the truth of her story. Her mother had been very upset and after that, she went a long time before being allowed to wander the woods by herself.

"Follow the river a while, go over the hills, and it won't be long until you get to Cairnbridge Manor," Susanna said, pointing westward.

"I'm sure it is a beautiful place."

"It's quite the sight. Perhaps I'll take you there someday," she mused.

"Perhaps..." Vincent replied, though he was unsure of the idea. He had always done his best to remain in the forest. The thought of going to a human residence, even if as a guest of Susanna, was an apprehensive one.

"Where to now?"

"My home is in the opposite direction. For now, we'll follow the creek east for a long while until it runs into a river. The river, in turn, empties into a large lake. There is a small island off its shores. My home is there."

"I can't wait to see it," said Susanna. She was looking forward to this adventure. She had never before journeyed past Lydia and Dan and was always curious as to what lay further ahead. The unknown excited her.

Before moving on, Susanna suggested to Vincent that she carry him to solve their pacing issue.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Well, it's not like you're a burden. I've carried paperclips that were heavier than you."

"I will take that as a compliment." Vincent scanned her up and down, examining her dress. "But I notice that you have no pockets. Were you intending to carry me in your hand the entire way?"

"No, I suppose that would grow wearisome. Hmm..." she pondered.

Vincent, considering the options, found his eyes upon Susanna's cleavage, which was just barely visible above her modest neckline.

"Not a chance," she said, following the direction of his eyes. "I just met you yesterday. But perhaps some day..." she said, trailing off at the end of that sentence. Had Vincent heard her properly?

She placed Vincent on her right shoulder, saying, "This will do for now. You can hold on to my hair for stability, if you need it. And my ear is right there."

"Fair enough," he replied, adjusting himself until he could find a comfortable enough spot. He nestled himself in the shallow indentation of her collarbone. Susanna's slender neck was close enough that he could lean up against it, if he so chose. This was much better than running alongside her, he thought. Even better than flying.

The sun was overhead and the two were still traveling along the creek, which had grown increasingly wider over time. They had been traveling for a couple of hours now, though the time had passed quickly. Susanna was taking in the beauty of the land, her mind actively absorbing every sight and sound and smell. Though they were not traveling along a road, the ground beneath her was soft and relatively free of rocks and other debris. She was soothed by the sound of the rushing waters traveling alongside her, the chattering of squirrels as they leapt from tree to tree, and the sweet singing of the birds.

It became apparent that someone else found it relaxing as well.

"How much further until this creek meets up with the river?" Susanna asked. Vincent had been relatively silent for some time. Perhaps he was meditating, or lost in thought. This is what Susanna assumed until she listened closely. Tilting her head to the right, she could hear the sound of gentle snoring. "So that's how it is."

The regular up-and-down rhythm of Susanna's movements had apparently put rocked Vincent into slumber. Though she was tempted to wake him up, she allowed him to carry on with his resting. She would certainly tease him about this later.

Another hour into their journey, Susanna could hear the sound of many waters crashing and colliding together. Up ahead, the creek that they had been following all morning--which had become a fairly decent-sized stream in its own right--was joining in with the swiftly moving waters from the northern mountains. Together, they formed the broad river which Vincent had spoken of earlier. It was quite a sight seeing the two water sources conjoin. The gentle waters of the creek were nearly overwhelmed by the whitewater rapids of its sister. However, the creek proved to be stalwart and hardy, bringing the rapids to a slow. The wide resulting river was flowed at a moderately pace, a compromise between the two powers.

Vincent was awoken by the sound of a loud snapping, followed by a series of crunching noises. At first, he ignored it, much preferring to continue napping. The crunching softened until there was a pause. A moment later, the wall that he was resting upon bulged forward, turning his reclining state into a sitting one, before receding a second later. Again there was a snap and the routine continued.

"What's going on?" Vincent exclaimed, a little grumpy from being awoken. His surroundings were different than he had expected. He was surrounded by leaves. Rubbing his eyes, he was that he was in a tree, several hundred feet off the ground. Still dazed and slightly alarmed, he grabbed onto the closest thing he could find: a lock of hair. Remembering that he was still on Susanna's shoulder, he stood and carefully backed up enough so that he could see her face. She was looking at peace, staring off past the tree and over at a great body of water. A few seconds later, her hand appeared and brought a shiny red sphere to her lips. She took a bite out of it, making the loud snapping he had heard, and began munching and chewing for several seconds before swallowing. Vincent now understood.

"Why hello, my little sleeper!" said Susanna. "It's about time you awoke. Care for an apple?"

"Apples?" asked a still disoriented Vincent.

"Yes, they're quite tasty. I was getting a little hungry and found this fine apple tree. It's made for a very relaxing respite, actually. I didn't think it was necessary to wake you, though you have been asleep for a couple of hours." Her legs were dangling over the edge of one of the trees limbs, another apple resting the skirt of her dress.

"Apples aren't really my thing," he answered while stretching. "Too much trouble." Considering that one apple would have been the size of a small cottage for him, Susanna was not surprised.

She smiled at her little friend. "Your loss." She took another bite.

After finishing her snack, Susanna made sure Vincent was secured and leapt from the tree, landing back on solid ground. For Vincent, the surroundings became immediately familiar. Beyond them was a vast lake, several acres of some of the clearest waters in the surrounding countryside. These waters would eventually flow into the sea, but until then they made their home here; it was where Vincent made his home as well.

"Look there!" he shouted, pointing at an island resting in the middle of the lake.

Susanna could see that it was a small islet, roughly twice the size of Cairnbridge Manor. A beach of sand stretched for about a quarter mile on the side facing them. The island was mostly forested. Where there we no trees, flowers of all varieties grew, reminding Susanna of the glade. It must have been Vincent's handiwork. In the middle of the island, the flowers surrounded a gigantic oak tree, itself an island in a sea of colorful blossoms.

"This is your home, Vincent? It's so enchanting!" Susanna exclaimed. "And it looks very safe and secure. I can see why you chose to live there."

"The island is very serene. The surrounding waters are a barrier not just from predators and other dangers, but from the very worries of the world," he touted.

"Let's go, then!" she said excitedly. "Where's the boat?"

Vincent looked at Susanna with a puzzled face. "What boat?"

"The boat that will take us to the island."

Vincent was silent. "I, um...I usually just fly there."

Susanna stared at him with disbelief. "Vincent, I have spent the last five hours walking to reach this home of yours. In those five hours, did it ever occur to you that this might be a problem worth mentioning to me?"

Vincent mumbled a barely coherent combination of words and stammered sentence fragments--complete with hand gestures--which Susanna assumed was a slew of excuses and apologies.

"Right, so I take that as a 'no,'" she said with a sigh. "Very well, I suppose there's only one way to get there..."

There are moments in one's life that cause one to call into question the constancy of the flow of the river of time. These moments seem to defy time's forward progress, as if to act as a temporal levee or dam. When these experiences are replayed in the mind's memory, every movement and action that is remembered is decelerated and enhanced. Though this phenomenon sometimes manifests itself in memories of trauma, it is also true of memories of sheer joy and euphoria. They are moments which one does not easily forget.

For Vincent, this was one of the latter moments.

His verbal sputtering turned to silence. His jaw grew slack and his mouth dropped open. His breathing was halted, but his heart rate quickened. His eyes widened and he fought off blinking, not wanting to lose his vision for even a millisecond.

Time had slowed down in a marvelous way for Vincent, in a way that a man experiences very seldomly in his life.

Susanna stood on the banks of the lake and slipped out of her dress.