In the morning Dema rose for work as usual. Her family was surprised and pleased to see her there after her long absence, but she did not tell them much of her new story until later. So recently recovered from the long, deep forest dream, she found herself reluctant to recall more than snatches of it.

"I was a tree for the longest time," she said dreamily, almost in a whisper. "I was standing at the edge of a marijuana patch, until some men came to harvest it and I remembered that I am the Lamia. But the forest dream was too strong, and I couldn't move. Until I became a swarm of beetles, and then a flock of bats, and flew home."

"Beetles? Bats? A tree? Dema, is that possible? Did that really happen?" asked Kore.

"Honestly, I don't know. It's what I remember, but I can't be sure it wasn't really just a dream. But I was there, and now I'm here. And it has been a long time."

"Stranger stories have been told by many shamans over the years," said Sedna. "But Dema is right, there is no way to say for sure how much is dream, and how much is real."

"I'm beginning to think that all of life is more a dream than we realize," Naga said quietly.

They all grew thoughtful and quiet, respecting Dema's distant mood, and slowly went their separate ways for the day.

At the DEA office things took more explaining. She had not reported in for many weeks. She no longer had her undercover access to the drug boss. She no longer had her GPS device with the coordinates of the marijuana plots encoded within it. 

But she no longer needed them. The forest knew where the marijuana was, so she could know as well. She got a map of the northern Wisconsin woodlands, and laid it out on a table in front of Captain O'Mally.

She opened her shaman dream, linked it to the distant forest dream, put her finger on the map, and said "There," and "There," and everywhere she put her finger a marijuana plot would be found. Not just those that she had recorded on her GPS. Not just those the plane had flown over. Not just those planted and cared for by the drug boss's henchmen. She pointed out all of them. Even the ones planted by other gangs. Even the ones planted by loners for their own use. Even ones planted, not on the forest floor, but on platforms high in the forest canopy, invisible from the ground as well as from the air. 

All of them. The forest dream connected her to all of them. Enough to keep the entire DEA busy for years, along with the forest service (including perhaps one particular part-time forest ranger who lived in those woods) and many local police patrols. She knew she could do it again any time. She knew she could go to other forests, and do it there as well, because now she was familiar with the forest dream. 

But this one time would be enough. She had her own cover to protect, if not her very existence. For this time she had the airplane flight. She smiled a somewhat troubled smile. There would have to be a very good reason before she would do anything like that again.