Coyote’s Black Cloak
Coyote dreamt one evening. And in his dream, he saw himself, Coyote, dreaming. And in that dream, Coyote was dreaming of another Coyote, afloat in the waters of sleep, and this Coyote too was dreaming. And in his dream, Coyote awoke, while the others slept. And he slipped out of his den, underneath a pitch-black desert sky, led by something subtle, over the hills, far away from the flicker of the fires keeping watch over his sleeping village. He walked further, until, just before dawn, as the breath of the sky pulled cold at his fur, and its light licked up from the horizon, luminous blue, he saw the mouth of a cave. Something called to him, pulling him inside.
Darkness enveloped him, and the flickering glow seemed to vanish. Just darkness. And stillness. And calm. And another Coyote. He, himself, standing there in the darkness – a presence felt more than seen. And Coyote, the one who had come from the outside, saw (or rather understood) that the Coyote who resided in the depths of the cave held in his hands a bundle. “This, that I hold in my hands, is for you.” He said “If you accept it. It is a cloak that holds light, inner and outer, within its threads. What is more, he who wraps himself in this cloak may slip through the cracks between worlds. Wrap it tight about you and you may pass through the worlds unseen. Take it now, and be mindful of where you place it, for once it is bundled up you shall not be able to see it again.
With solemnity, Coyote took the cloak, and wrapped it about his shoulders. As he pulled it down over his head, he was enveloped in an immense light that shone from within the threads of the cloak. As his eyes adjusted to the strength of the light, he found himself standing in a beautiful, if simply decorated room. The room was hexagonally shaped and each wall held an archway. Nearing each archway, Coyote could see a distorted image of what lay beyond, as if looking into the depths of a pool. His curiosity outweighing his trepidation, Coyote stepped past the threshold and into the realm to his right.
Strange figures danced before his eyes, moving around a fire. They bore beautiful objects foreign to our traveler. Hidden in the flicker of the shadows, Coyote recalled that none of these beings could see him. Which meant that he could do what he pleased… Picking a lit timber up from the fire, Coyote began to dance around with it over his head. The strangers, startled by this new turn of events, let out an uproar, and began to cower, fleeing the flame that danced of its own accord over their heads. In little time at all, the ring around fire was deserted. And the intricate, curiously crafted objects that the strangers had carried clattered to the ground, abandoned in fear. Delighted by the spoils of his trick, Coyote scooped up a few of these objects, and stuffed them in his cloak.
Pulling the threads around him, Coyote was transported back to the shining room, where he found a pedestal with a small plaque ready to accept the new trinkets. So it was that Coyote pursued his new hobby – half delighted by the trickery, half delighted by the plunder. Each new world provided an opportunity to startle, baffle, bewilder and scare some new unsuspecting being. And each bewildered being left behind some prized possession, a reward for Coyote’s cunning. With each world visited, the hexagonal room began to fill up with treasures, small ring here, an elaborate carved zebra there, and sooner or later, the room was too full even to move.
Now, it ought to be noted that it was not Coyote’s intention to leave these objects in the shining room. He had hoped to take them back with him to his own world. But as the only way to leave the shining room was to unwrap the cloak from himself, he was unable to extract the objects, for they too were entwined in the fabric of the cloak, and as he unwound it, they slipped out of his grasp. But treasures were treasures, and if he could only play with them in the shining room, so be it. And neither could Coyote bring himself to stop once the room was full. There were so many worlds still to explore and each world held treasures for him. The room was crammed so full of trinkets that the very walls began to bulge. From outside, the cloak became bulkier too – not significantly so, it was after all an object of singular magical power. But here and there it could be seen to bulge and stretch.
Finally one evening, Coyote having returned from a latest journey to an enchanted beach of lapis lazuli, brought back a single grain of blue-golden sand, and placed it atop the head of an carved stone elephant (which itself sat atop a library of shiny books, an old clavichord, and a looking glass that told bawdy jokes), and that was that, something began to shift at the bottom of the pile and objects began to topple down around him. Jumping back into his own world Coyote heard a terrible crash, and looking at the pile where the cloak lay, he saw the fibres bulge and shift, separating ever so slightly, and glinting slivers of dazzlingly bright golden light began to appear. And as Coyote watched in the darkness, the tears grew brighter and more profuse, until he was afraid that they would never stop. In a moment of quick thinking that come to those frightened deep inside, Coyote scooped fabric glowing with a million dazzling pin pricks into his hands, and ran outside into the night. Unable to find suitable place to put the bundle which continued to grow in luminescence, Coyote did the only thing he could think of. With all his might he heaved the bundle into the pitch black sky. As the bundle flew upwards it spread out in a shower of sparks, and was caught, up there by some mysterious force, the pin-pricks and tears frozen in mysterious patterns to give guidance to the many generations of wanders to come.
