It was the time of dream-telling. In the Longhouse, in the ruddy glow of the new fire of Midwinter, the clanmothers dressed the heralds in buffalo robes and bearskins. The women crowned them with wreaths of cornhusks that fanned out around their blackened faces. They fastened braids of cornhusks, like dance rattles, to the Bigheads’ wrists and knees. They knotted corn cobs into the thong ties of the animal hides. They armed the dream heralds with huge wooden paddles, shaped like corn pounders, to stir the ashes in the firepits and make the earth tremble under the elmbark lodges of the Upper Castle. “Now you are complete,” the clan mothers told them. “You will leave the Longhouse by the men’s door and return by the women’s door. You wear the skins the animal masters have given our men on the hunt and the fruits of the earth that the Mother has entrusted to the care of our women.” [download]
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