Last night, I dreamed of a dragon.
An Anne McCaffrey dragon, to be precise – and that is an important distinction, at least for me. I have always loved dragons of any stripe, but hers were special.
I’ve recently started re-reading Anne McCaffrey’s Pern books for the first time in years. I used to live and breathe these books. As a teenager, I read my favorite books of the series so many time the covers fell off. I was extremely active in play-by-email Pern role-play. I wrote stories – fanfiction, I suppose it qualifies as – about my own characters living in this world. The characters in the books as well as in the role-play groups I was involved in were my friends. I found in their world, their struggles, connections to and an escape from my world, my struggles. And I dreamed - daydreamed - of finding their world to be real, and impressing a dragon of my own.
I never did have such a great opinion of Anne McCaffrey herself. Her interaction with her fans in the context of her extremely specific rules about what is and isn’t allowed (mostly isn’t) in terms of role-play, fanfiction, etc., backed up by law suits, generally gave me the impression of a crabby old lady. In later years, I heard that she had some pretty wonky views of homosexuality (you’re a dude and some other dude penetrates you, you’re gay, end of story! Even if it’s rape – still makes you gay!) And when I thought about her books from a feminist perspective, I seemed to recall them being troubling at best.
Re-reading these books, though, was worse than thinking about them in terms of feminism. Perhaps at the time when the first couple books were written – in the 60s, I believe – they were more progressive and less sexist. I certainly do remember later books being much better on that front. But I found myself grinding my teeth. After the first couple chapters, I was wondering how I made it through them even at 13 without noticing the violence against women, the strict adherence to gender binaries and roles (it shocked me how often the words “feminine” and “masculine” appear in these books, the number of references to men being emasculated, and the constant use of “womanly” as an insult to men, and the number of times even the most powerful women are reduced to serving food to men and then leaving so men can have their war councils), and the unspoken sense of “quiet dear, the men are talking now.” I honestly wondered if I even wanted to continue reading.
And then I arrived at the scene where the heroine, Lessa, impresses the golden dragon Ramoth. It’s hard to describe what this means outside the context of the books, but I’ll try. In these books, the bond between dragons and their riders is profound, and begins the moment the dragon hatches and stumbles around the sand to find their rider. Pernese dragons are strong, powerful, beautiful and, well, dragons, but this bond is what sets them apart and what defines them, in universe and in the context of fantasy literature. Dragons and riders communicate telepathically, and share in everything with each other. When a rider dies, the dragon commits suicide immediately. Most of the time if a dragon dies, their rider commits suicide – assuming they have the mental capacity to do so, and aren’t reduced to complete insanity. The two are always together, always connected. They always support each other. They always love each other. Their bond supersedes all other bonds of family, romance, or friendship.
The love between dragon and rider is unconditional, irreversible, and the most important bond in either creature’s life. That was what always drew me to the books. That is what led me to immerse myself in this fantasy world. That is what inspired me to create character after character that lived and interacted – and that I lived and interacted vicariously through – in that same world. That was what I was thinking of, dreaming of, and even, in my heart of hearts and against all logic and reason, hoping for. And when I read the moment where Lessa and Ramoth find each other on the sand and look into each other’s eyes for the first time, it all came back to me. I put the book down after that scene, and despite the warm humid weather, I fell asleep and it was hot. And as I dreamed, I fell asleep and it was hot – but the heat was the warmth of the dragon whose neck I was curled up against while she protectively wrapped around me, the heat was the dragon who was mine just as I was hers, the heat was comforting and safe and joyful and full of love. When I woke up and found I was alone, I felt a little sad and empty.
Last night, I dreamed of my dragon.
