Chapter Twenty-Five - Gift-giving Traditions

“What’s that?” Dreamer asked.

She was in the cafe’s main floor, doing the very first job that Abigail had ever taught her how to do. That was, sweeping the floors with a big broom and a dustpan. Once she’d collected a pan of dust she’d just tip it down her mouth. There were lots of crumbs there, after all.

Daphne was sitting nearby, a stack of books on the table before her, and a dirty plate next to a lukewarm cup of tea. She had been doing all sorts of school-related work stuff while Dreamer cleaned up. Daphne wasn’t the only person working. Dreamer’s weird pamphlet clone was in her own corner, frowning hard and sweating as she worked on a pamphlet with a focus that Dreamer didn’t think she could manage herself.

She had looked over Pam’s shoulder with an eyetacle, and was very impressed so far.

Maybe letting her clones go wild with autonomy was a good idea after all?

“Pardon?” Daphne asked.

“You said a Winter Solstice, but I don’t know what that is. Is it a kind of cake?”

“No, it’s not a kind of cake. Though I suppose there are cakes that are generally eaten around that time. No, the solstice is the shortest day of the year.”

Dreamer blinked. “Really? What if I make today shorter, will it become the solstice today?”

“Please don’t mess with time,” Daphne said. “It would ruin my scheduling. Also, don’t touch the planet’s rotation speed or tilt. This is the one time of the year where the sun doesn’t wake me up in the morning and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay,” Dreamer said.

“The Winter solstice is not just the shortest day of the year, it’s also a celebratory day. You get together with family and friends, eat lots of rather unhealthy foods, and trade small gifts.”

“Oh,” Dreamer said. She liked this idea. “Can we do that more often than once a year. Every day?”

“It wouldn’t be as special if it was daily, would it?” Daphne asked. “Besides, it’s a celebration of a year spent together in each other’s company.”

“Okay,” Dreamer said. That made sense.

“Will you be participating?” Daphne asked. There was a small lilt to her voice which told her that Daphne was about to do something clever.

“I guess. There’s food and fun, yeah?”

Daphne nodded. “Oh yes. The entire thing is about closeness. I... well, I look forward to seeing Abigail’s reactions to the gifts I got for her.”

Dreamer rubbed at her nose. It was itchy. “Do I get gifts?”

“I’ll be sure to get you something nice,” she said. “You don’t usually get anything too extreme for the Solstice. Just something small that you know the other will like.”

“Oh,” Dreamer said. “I need to get gifts for my friends, right?”

“That would be very nice of you,” Daphne said.

Dreamer frowned. She didn’t know what to get her friends. Most of them probably wouldn’t appreciate sprouting tentacles. Hugs were nice, but a hug was a... thing, not a thing-thing. Giving them good dreams would be hit-or-miss. Her experiments with Abigail suggested that the dreams Dreamer thought were good didn’t feel good to Abigail.

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“Hmm,” Dreamer hmmed.

“Do you need help?” Daphne asked.

“Help with what?”

Daphne laughed. She turned a page in one of her schoolbooks, her attention more on the books than on Dreamer. “With the gifts. It’s not always easy to pick out the right gift for someone, you know.”

Dreamer agreed. She’d been thinking about it for nearly a whole minute, and she had nothing. That was basically forever. “Yeah. What can I give Abigail?”

“Well, that depends. Different gifts can mean different things.”

Dreamer slumped. There were hidden meanings too? Dreamer didn’t like symbolism, it made things silly. And sub-text was complicated. That’s why she just took everything she saw in dreams literally. It made things simple. “Oh! Maybe I can look at what Abigail dreams of for ideas?”

“That’s... ah, an option,” Daphne says.

“Usually she has weird dreams though. Sometimes you’re in them and not wearing anything, it’s very strange.”

Daphne choked, because she was a human and they weren’t made very well, especially if they could mess up breathing, something they had to do to stay alive. “M-maybe not something from Abigail’s dreams, then,” she said.

“Well, what do I get her, then?” Dreamer asked.

“Abigail will be hard to buy for. I think most of her big dreams have been, to some degree, accomplished,” Daphne said. “But I think that no matter what you get her, she’ll be quite happy. Maybe something small and cute?”

“Like a smaller me?” Dreamer asked. She could do that.

“I was thinking more a plush, something Abigail and put on her bed to remind her of this next Winter Solstice,” Daphne said. She tapped the back of a pen against her lower lip. “Actually, that’s an excellent idea, I’m going to see if I can’t get some small plushies for a few of the girls I know. It’s a simple and elegant gift.”

Dreamer liked the idea. A small, soft Dreamer plush, with little tentacles. Abigail could hug it if Dreamer wasn’t around for hugs (Which was kind of silly, since Dreamer had tentacles around Abigail’s soul that would tell her if Abigail was in the mood for a hug so that Dreamer could come and give her one).

Yes, it was a nice idea.

“Where do you get plushies from?” Dreamer asked.

“A store, I suppose,” Daphne said. “There used to be a city to the north that had a great artisan for that kind of thing, but she passed away. Too bad.” Daphne bent over her work again, and started focusing more on that while Dreamer thought.

She thought really hard.

Abigail was the best, so she deserved the best, which meant...

“I’ll be right back,” Dreamer said before she leaned the broom against the nearest wall and walked out.

She needed a few things. First and foremost, a police booth.

***