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I dreamt about a story-telling contest. I told a story about a king whose three daughters died on three consecutive nights. They were sent to a place where a man and woman lived. The woman had a huge lower jaw, and the trick was not to mention it. The first two did, of course, and were thrown into Hell; the third didn’t. This story was applauded.
There was also a man with me, who was my brother (not my real brother, though). For vague reasons he was to fight the stag king for his crown. This was not a metaphorical stag king; he was actually a stag. This was a yearly event, and the way it was done was to stab the king when he was unaware. There was a second challenger, who stabbed the king later; but then my brother held up his knife (flint, I think) to show that he had been first. So he became King, and a stag. A bi-pedal, 11 foot tall stag. There was a queen doe, who was immortal, and believed that her husband was reborn every year, but that it was the same soul.
At this point, however, she began to figure it out. She playfully asked him who he would be if he went to the magical Water-That-Changes, i.e. tells who you actually are. Unable to lie to her, he answered, “I am Max.” She then realized that throughout the years, however thousand men had died for her, and decided to use her Gift to kill herself, as Max looked on in horror. The three black-cloaked guardians of the place cornered him, accusing him of murder. He protested that she had wanted him to tell her. “She asked you to lie!” thundered one.
There was some sort of a curse that upon hearing the call of the heron he would turn normal again; at that point the heron called, even though there had never been herons there before. So he returned to a room with me. There was to be an assembly the next day to decide something, and it was customary to bring gifts. Also to tell a story. The story was decided by the birds; and they chose “shifty Abby.” Max made a comment that I took to imply that I wasn’t going to go (which was dishonorable) and I got very angry.
So I decided to take a gift to the great Tree – a gift of a stone weapon. The Tree told me that it was very happy, but no one else was. I was moved into another world and robbed of my name, being called instead Mattock, or something like it. I was also granted immortality and the gift of being a great story-teller. Well, the immortality might have been a curse, actually. I floated through history and met important people and told stories about them, then ended up in the streets in a near-modern city, revising news-stories. Finally one of the three robed Guardians who had confronted Max found me…and I woke up.
Guess all the story-type represented and win a prize! Aarne-Thompson numbers must be included.
There was also a man with me, who was my brother (not my real brother, though). For vague reasons he was to fight the stag king for his crown. This was not a metaphorical stag king; he was actually a stag. This was a yearly event, and the way it was done was to stab the king when he was unaware. There was a second challenger, who stabbed the king later; but then my brother held up his knife (flint, I think) to show that he had been first. So he became King, and a stag. A bi-pedal, 11 foot tall stag. There was a queen doe, who was immortal, and believed that her husband was reborn every year, but that it was the same soul.
At this point, however, she began to figure it out. She playfully asked him who he would be if he went to the magical Water-That-Changes, i.e. tells who you actually are. Unable to lie to her, he answered, “I am Max.” She then realized that throughout the years, however thousand men had died for her, and decided to use her Gift to kill herself, as Max looked on in horror. The three black-cloaked guardians of the place cornered him, accusing him of murder. He protested that she had wanted him to tell her. “She asked you to lie!” thundered one.
There was some sort of a curse that upon hearing the call of the heron he would turn normal again; at that point the heron called, even though there had never been herons there before. So he returned to a room with me. There was to be an assembly the next day to decide something, and it was customary to bring gifts. Also to tell a story. The story was decided by the birds; and they chose “shifty Abby.” Max made a comment that I took to imply that I wasn’t going to go (which was dishonorable) and I got very angry.
So I decided to take a gift to the great Tree – a gift of a stone weapon. The Tree told me that it was very happy, but no one else was. I was moved into another world and robbed of my name, being called instead Mattock, or something like it. I was also granted immortality and the gift of being a great story-teller. Well, the immortality might have been a curse, actually. I floated through history and met important people and told stories about them, then ended up in the streets in a near-modern city, revising news-stories. Finally one of the three robed Guardians who had confronted Max found me…and I woke up.
Guess all the story-type represented and win a prize! Aarne-Thompson numbers must be included.