Made That Way Read Online Free PDF Page A

the energy to control where the dream goes. I hope nothing goes wrong or that if something does go badly I will have the energy to wake myself up. At first everything’s fine. I’m cantering along a trail and we pop over a small drop jump. Then we’re going a bit too fast, so I sit up like Kansas has told me to and slow the motion in my back. The horse responds by dropping to a walk and we mosey along, enjoying the countryside.
    I know I’m dreaming because Kansas won’t let me jump yet. When I have lessons on Electra we only do flatwork. Dressage is Kansas’s passion. I don’t mind doing it if it’s going to make me a better jumper rider, but sometimes it does get boring, which is probably why I never bother to dream about it.
    Suddenly the horse disappears, and I’m on my feet.
    The unicorn is limping beside me. There’s a scab on his forehead where his horn used to be. He says, “Did you hear what the driver said? Not a bad little guy ?”
    I scuff my feet in the dirt. Fortunately I’m wearing my paddock boots. Sometimes in the past I’ve been wearing ballet slippers, which are the sort of thing my cousin Taylor likes to wear because she is a dance-nut the same way I am a horse-nut. This footwear switching is only one way things can become very mixed up in my dreams. Apparently there are rules to lucid dreaming. Sometimes I break them accidentally and then crazy things happen. The main thing is that I’m not supposed to build bridges between worlds by mentioning the name of someone from the real world while I’m in the dream world. The last time I made a mistake, suddenly Taylor was with me in the dream, and the unicorn followed her in because unicorns used to be her spiritual protectors. She had pictures of them all over her bedroom. But this particular unicorn wasn’t very nice, and he had very pointy teeth that scared Taylor out of her mind. Her life has been ruined by my error—she’s had to remove all the unicorn decorations from her room and she’s still looking for a new guardian for her soul.
    I look around nervously, hoping that thinking about Taylor won’t be enough of a bridge to draw her into the dream.
    â€œI need to rest for a moment,” says the unicorn.
    We are under a large tree. I take a seat on a curve of root and stare at my boots. I wish I could ask the unicorn why my new “horse” was named after a bridge, because it’s really bothering me, but obviously I can’t.
    â€œI don’t know about those drugs you’re getting,” says the unicorn.
    â€œThe growth hormone? I need that for the Turner Syndrome or I won’t grow.”
    â€œWhat’s so bad about being short? I have a good life and never grew over fifteen hands.”
    â€œA good life? You’re grumpy all the time.”
    â€œI am not.”
    â€œAnd Dr. Cleve…” I stop myself just in time. “My psychiatrist said it generally helped people psychologically to break the five-foot barrier.”
    â€œGenerally speaking. Not always. Not if it means you have a headache every day until your epiphyses close over.”
    â€œMy what?”
    â€œYou know. Until the growth plates have fused at the end of your long bones. Until you reach bone age fourteen.”
    â€œI thought you said you didn’t know anything about this? You said you reported on the general spiritual picture.”
    â€œI’ve been reading up on it.”
    â€œOh right, now you’re a unicorn that reads. I suppose you have high speed internet access back home in your mountain cave as well.”
    â€œSylvia . . . ,” he says, using that warning tone that adults are so fond of and drives me crazy.
    I launch myself from the root. “Do not talk to me like that! Do not treat me like a child. I am so sick of this.” I glare at him and barely restrain myself from punching him in the nose. I decide to hurt him another