A Goddess Visits

A goddess visted me. And told me to get to work. Writers were supposed to be writing, not just complaining about their writer's block.
She told me that what you don't use, you lose. So my imagination was something to exercise.
Of course, the way she was dressed left little to the imagination. And as she got closer, it was more evident…
Excerpt:
A goddess came to me last night.
She said there was a gold mine between my ears,
but I'd have to start using it.

Until I did, I could spend none of it. And would
be working hand-to-mouth for the rest of my life.

She wore a gossamer-thread shift over her, which
was a bit distracting. Golden hair, clear blue eyes. None of this
covered her feminine features very well.

Have you ever seen gossamer? It's extremely thin,
and rare. It's the stuff young spiders put out in order to catch the wind and fly to their new homes. Of course, it's the same stuff web
silk is made from, so is extremely tough. When you walk through the woods, you'll find that across trails and catching in your face. So tough that you can almost hear it “pling” as it breaks. So thin that you barely see it except when you catch the sun glinting
off it.

So making an entire garment out of this would be expensive, and humans wouldn't find it possible.
“Fairies.” She said.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Fairies collected and wove these strands
into cloth.” She said.
“Well, that would make sense. Providing you believe in fairies.” I replied.
“They don't need you to believe in them. That
rumor got started by a writer and his stage play.” A slight
frown crossed her face. “Fairies only appear in your universe if you believe in them. That's the trick. They still exist regardless of whether you believe in them or not. But they only show up if you ask
them, or expect them, even as a stray thought.”
“Like the odd times that you see a single
small branch waving in the wind, but you feel no wind, and nothing
else is moving.” I said.
“Exactly. But that might not be a fairy.
Might be a goblin. Might be a poltergeist.” she said.
“Could be helpful. Could be dangerous. How would I tell?” I asked.
“Only by accepting it as it is and figuring
out how to talk with it. If you can't see it, you haven't accepted it enough, yet.” she answered.
“So I see only what I want to see.” I
said.
“Sure, like it's always been. Like you don't
hear the teacher sometimes in class. Like when you 'tune out' to some
recording and find it 'rewritten' when you listen to it again – new
sections you'd 'never heard' before. This is old stuff. You've been
through this. Selective perception.” She idly played with a loose thread on the bed's quilt…
Bonus Short Stories Included: 
Max Says “No.” - When the pet dog starts talking by refusing to get into the pickup truck cab, it was time to have a conversation with him…
A Nervous Butt- Not the only talking animal on this farm, an expectant momma cow tells her worries to the farmer who is caring for her. Starting out by knocking him down…
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