"Is this a dagger ...?": "Melissa"

awn is hours away, but until then I must sit here in this small circle of light and write the dream that shakes me so.

The landscape was the barren parking lot surrounding the warehouse. Moonlight sparkled so brightly and beautifully on the snow. I saw my Crow perched atop one of the posts for the tall chain link fence, just above the manufacturer's metal plaque: "W & H Fencing". I don't know why I would have noticed that, but I did. My Crow seemed distant, as if he knew I was there but was more focused on something else. Indeed, he flew off without giving me much more than a glance and that's when I knew something was wrong.

He flew toward the door of the warehouse, all hidden in shadow, but landed in the moonlit snow near three snowdrifts. He stood motionless for a long moment. When he suddenly hopped up onto the nearest drift I was surprised. With singular concentration he scratched away at the snow in an area along the top of the snowdrift until he was able to grasp something in his beak. He hopped backwards and tugged with his magnificent strength and finally lifted off with some sort of pendant.

"My god, they are bodies!" I screamed inside even as he repeated his actions on the remaining forms. I stepped to run and help him, but I stopped short as I saw a figure with a lantern approach from around the corner of the warehouse.

She was magnificent. Her gown and cloak caught and held the night and the moonlight and seemed to flow around her like mist. Hair black as my Crow's plumage escaped from under her hood in waves. I watched the lantern light dance over her earring, a confection of silver and crystal that reminded me of a medieval stained glass window. She was darkness and power, but nothing, nothing about her was grave. She was, I think, only brave. She walked right up to this scene of death - surely violence had been involved - carrying only light. As I write this I think of some lines from "Romeo and Juliet": 'O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!/It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night/as a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear ...' (Act I, Sc 1, 51-53)

When my Crow finished confiscating the medallions the Lady took candles from a purse at her waist and lit them with the flame in her lantern before setting a pair at the head of each body. The six candles aglow She turned and held her lantern aloft. "Joseph," She called, "You may now escort Your little ones home." Silently, backlit by moonlight, Uncle Joe approached. He was dressed as he had been for his wedding. We greeted one another and the Dark Lady, for so I have come to think of her in these hours, with hands pressed palm to palm and the salutation, "Namaste".

As Uncle Joe approached the bodies I saw misty forms rise from them. They seemed puzzled. Uncle Joe touched each one lightly on a shoulder and it was then I saw that they had coats-of-arms strapped to their arms like the leprechauns in the labyrinth! He gently removed these from each figure and, somehow, hung them on the wall of the warehouse. "Our bruised arms hung up for monuments," He explained to me as He escorted them past. "You will see, my friend, that you and She are the only hope for little ones such as these."

I thought to move the candles nearer to the coats-of-arms, hoping to create a shrine of sorts. When I bent over the forms I saw that each one had worn several heavy medallions around their necks, not just that which the Crow had taken. My Crow and the Dark Lady were silent as I carried each pair of candles to the wall, separately. As I placed the last set there in the snow I saw my Crow reflected in the shield before me, three crosses dangling from his beak.

He lifted off and I turned to watch him fly. The Dark Lady walked into the night the way She had come. Before She turned the corner her cloak brushed an object glinting in the snow. Curious, I went to retrieve it. When I pulled it from the snow, a handgun with a most curious brand name, I could only think to say, "Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?"