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. "Dreams are
important, though. My cousin dreamed he was a door-
mat one time, and a week later an ogre stepped on him."
Chane stared at the twirling staff. "What is that thing,
anyways"
'What t" Chess blinked and stopped twirling the stick.
"Oh, this? It's a hoopak. Tell me some more about your
helmet dream."
"Well, it's just a dream. I've had it now and then, most
of my life. I dream I'm in a place I've never seen before,
and there's something there. Sometimes it's a locked chest,
sometimes a bag, sometimes a pile of stones or a wooden
box. But I open it, and there is an old helmet inside. A war
helm, with horns and a spire, cheekplates, noseguard...
it always looks the same, and every time I start to put it on
my head there is a voice that says, " 'No, not now. Not
yet. When the time comes, you will know.' "
"Is that all?" the kender frowned in disappointment.
'That isn't very exciting."
"That's all of it," Chane admitted. "Or it was until a
few weeks ago, when I started having that dream almost
every night. But now it's different. There's a great, high
bridge, and nothing at all beneath it. I cross the bridge,
and then I find the helmet. I start to put it on, and there is
someone there with me. A warrior, like the old Hylar
warriors back in the time of the great war
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