Of Dreams and Frogs

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write something starting with “he or she started the new year with…”

This week’s contribution comes from Chiara De Giorgi. Chiara is an Italian author and currently lives in Berlin, Germany. She writes fiction, with a focus on children’s literature and science fiction.

 

 Of Dreams and Frogs

by Chiara De Giorgi

Created with Canva

Elsa Mon, the beloved paranormal romance writer, started the new year with a dream.

In the dream, she found herself in the clearing in the woods, the one she sometimes liked to visit to play the violin. She was sitting on a fallen log and was surrounded by frogs. It was a beautiful day, and there were frogs everywhere: countless frogs of every size and shade of green and brown, complementing the colors of the grass, the bushes, and the leaves of the trees. They croaked and hopped about, and Elsa instinctively knew they were in a good mood. It was a happy croaking. Elsa wondered why there were so many frogs in the clearing, far from a pond or a stream or any other place frogs normally lived. She would have checked Wikipedia, but her phone wouldn’t connect. Still, she seemed to recall that frogs generally lived near water (if not actually in it).

When she woke up, she remembered the dream perfectly, along with the feeling of serenity paired with perplexity it had left her with. She went to have breakfast and, while crunching on the butter-and-chocolate cookies the librarian, Miss Underwood, had given her, she thought about it.

“If the dream left such a vivid impression on my mind,” she said out loud, mumbling around a piece of pastry, “it must have a very specific meaning. But what?”

“Ah, who knows?” sighed the sugar bowl in the middle of the table. “What was the dream about?”

“Stranger!” Elsa exclaimed, addressing the sugar bowl. The Stranger was a peculiar creature, capable of transforming into any being or object. Lately, she had been spending a great deal of time with Elsa.

“There were lots of frogs in my dream. Nice and chatty, not aggressive at all.”

Immediately, the Stranger transformed into a small, talking plush frog.

“Croak!” was the first thing she said, hopping around the teapot. “You were visited in a dream!”

“By frogs?”

“Certainly not. Why would frogs visit you? No, it was someone… or something pretending to be a multitude of frogs.”

“Huh? And why would someone… or something pretend to be a multitude of frogs?”

“Out of politeness.”

“What are you talking about? Politeness? And who would ever do that, anyway?”

“Ah, that I don’t know. Surely someone… or something that wanted to leave an impression.”

“Well, in that case, they succeeded. But I still can’t understand the meaning of this dream. Or this visit, whatever.”

“Maybe it was someone… or something that didn’t want to frighten you.”

Elsa went pale and set her teacup down on the saucer. “Do you think it could be something frightening?”

The plush frog managed to shrug and turned into a pink clothespin.

“I’ll go talk to the Squatters about the dream,” Elsa decided. “Maybe one of them will have a good idea about it.”

 ***

The Squatters were a small community of spirits who dwelled in the haunted house on the edge of the cheerful village of Willow, where Elsa lived. Elsa had become friends with them after acquiring the Sight… but that is another story.

When she arrived there (accompanied by the Stranger, who had insisted on presenting herself in the form of a bulky cuckoo clock), the Squatters greeted her and wished her a happy New Year.

“Happy New Year to you too, all of you!” she exclaimed happily. She hung the cuckoo clock on a hook in the wall and dropped into an old, shabby green armchair, which raised a small cloud of dust.

“I had a dream last night, and I’d like to know what you think.”

“Oh! A dream to be interpreted!” exclaimed the witch Wilhelmina happily. “Such a magical thing!”

“Such a demonic thing!” grumbled Sister Elena of Cremona.

“Don’t say that,” Wilhelmina scolded her at once. “Dream interpretation is mentioned in the Bible as well.”

Without waiting for any further reaction from Sister Elena, she turned back to Elsa. “So tell us, tell us: what was the dream about? Did you dream of a silver knight with a golden sword?”

“Or a giant squirrel throwing acorns at you?” asked Zinny, the Buddhist monk.

“Were you at sea, with an enemy submarine chasing you?” asked Olga, a retired Russian spy.

“No, no, none of that,” Elsa said, laughing. “I was in the woods, surrounded by… frogs.”

“Frogs?” repeated Sister Elena. “Frogs! That’s an omen of misfortune!”

She stared straight at Wilhelmina. “Speaking of the Bible… a plague!”

Elsa went pale. “You think so?”

“Of course! And obviously, if we absolutely must interpret your dream... you represent Egypt. Or the Pharaoh. Or both. In any case, it’s not a good sign.”

“But… but—”

“Oh, that’s enough. I’m not saying another word about this business,” the nun snapped. “I’m going for a walk around the village, looking for souls to bless.”

Elsa shot a perplexed and slightly frightened look at Wilhelmina. “Wh-what… what do you think?”

“Well then,” replied the witch, tapping a finger against her chin. “A long time ago, tarot cards included a frog, but it was removed because the frog kept jumping out of the deck.”

“Cuckoo!” went the clock.

“Um… are you sure about that?” Elsa asked, doubtful.

“Oh, who cares,” Wilhelmina replied evasively, waving her hands. “Hey, tell me: were the frogs in your dream damp?”

“I… I don’t remember. Why? Is that another omen of misfortune?”

“Why would frogs be damp if they’re far from water?” cut in Tony, Al Capone’s plumber.

“Maybe they sweat,” observed Zinny the Buddhist monk. Then, before anyone else could speak, he added, “I think frogs are a good sign. You see, they don’t ask themselves why they live as frogs. They just do.”

“And what would that mean for me?” Elsa asked.

“Well, obviously... you have to become a frog.”

Elsa frowned. “Eh?”

“You’re all wrong,” Mercy cut in at that point. When she was alive, she was the head cook on a pirate ship. She died defending her stew from the soldiers who boarded the ship she was on. “This isn’t a dream full of omens, neither bad nor good.”

“Really?” Elsa brightened for a moment. All things considered, if the dream had no hidden meaning, she almost preferred it that way.

“No ma’am!” said Mercy firmly. “Quite simply: you were hungry. I’d make you a nice plate of fried frog legs, but… I don’t have any frogs in the pantry at the moment.”

“Sure,” Tony whispered to Zinny. “That’s the only reason.”

Mercy heard them snickering and shot a murderous glance in their direction.

“Don’t you think that… my dream could somehow mean that this year I’ll finally meet true love?”

“Huh? How?”

“Cuckoo? Cuckoo!”

Elsa felt herself blush slightly.

“Well, you see… it’s something I desire deep in my heart. And after all, fairy tales tell of frogs that turn into princes when they’re kissed.”

“Did you kiss a frog in your dream?” Wilhelmina asked.

“No,” Elsa said, shaking her head, “but—”

The Squatters exchanged glances. The Stranger turned into a butterfly and fluttered among them.

“I suppose that—”

“Yes, indeed.”

“It could be.”

“Why not?”

“Frogs transform. They start out as tadpoles and then become something completely different.”

“Like butterflies.”

Everyone followed the Stranger with their eyes.

“Yes, but she dreamed of frogs.”

“So?”

“How do we connect frogs with love?”

“Do we have to?”

“Elsa wants it.”

Elsa cleared her throat. “It’s not that you have to—”

“Silence! Your subconscious guides your dreams, so if you want love and you dream of frogs, there must be a connection.”

Elsa fell silent in the face of such a compelling argument. Everyone fell silent, in fact. At that moment, Sister Elena of Cremona came back in.

“Well hello! I’m back! You’ll never guess what happened while I was out! I blessed a fellow walking his dog near the main square, and my blessing was a bit stronger than expected. Hee hee hee… I stirred up some wind and a business card flew out of his pocket. He didn’t notice at all, and of course he didn’t hear me when I called after him.”

With an exaggerated gesture, Sister Elena pulled a small card out of a fold in her habit and handed it to Elsa.

“Dentist Victor Sweettooth… and?”

Sister Elena hopped and did a little twirl. “Turn the card over!”

Elsa looked at the other side of the dentist’s business card.

“The symbol of his clinic is—”

“A frog!” all the spirits exclaimed together, crowding around her.

Elsa burst out laughing.

“You’ll have to find an excuse to make an appointment with him,” said the Stranger, taking the form of a talking hammer. “Maybe,” she added with a thoughtful expression, “one of these days you’ll break a tooth…”

 

 

The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/