"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?"

Roses at the Window: "Melissa"

This is a new experience for me. Until a couple of months ago dreams were just weird little wisps of what - whispers, whirling images? They evaporate with dawn and leave me to my business. This morning, though, I woke from a recurring dream of a warehouse and as I lay in that half-sleep between night and morning I heard a whisper: "Heart-mysteries there." That phrase has been in my mind all day. I am intrigued. I can't let it rest. I have no idea what to do to solve this 'mystery,' but I guess I could start by getting it all on paper. I consider myself primarily a writer so I am surprised that I want to see some of the images from the dream so badly that I am trying to draw them myself.

In the beginning of the dream I was standing at one end of a bridge of thick, ripply glass over a black, black river. The sky around me was black, too, yet at the other side of the bridge a huge moon hung full and pearly. Some way ahead of me on the bridge a black cat stood and studied me. Suddenly, up started a crow and with a last glance at me, as if to ask "Are you with me?" the cat turned and followed the crow. So, yes, I followed the cat.


As I crossed the bridge I watched the crow circle above a derelict building - not the sort of place I'd choose to visit when I'm awake. The building was shaped like an 'L' and something shimmered in the bend where the wings met. Whatever shimmered appeared to stretch up the wall and onto the roof. Both the crow and the cat were attracted to it. Gravel crunched under my soles as I picked my way across the wasteland of refuse and sweepings, old bottles and broken cans, old iron. I remember now! I remember thinking the place smelled absolutely foul but just as I did the crow squawked "foul is fair and fair is foul" ... "Macbeth"? Why "Macbeth"?

When I reached the cat and the crow I was surprised to discover that the shimmering object was a stunning, lush bush of white roses. Somehow the rose had taken root in the midst of all that refuse and dereliction and climbed tenaciously up a spiral ladder onto the roof of the shorter building. Before I thought about it - or all the thorns! - I had climbed the ladder to stand on the roof. Because this leg of the 'L' was shorter than the main building by one story I was able to peer into a room through a broken window. A tangle of the white roses spilled over the sill at one corner.

At first I could not understand what I was seeing. Moonlight and shadows chased across the floor and over the walls. When my eyes adjusted I saw piles of old rags and even old bones scattered everywhere. I looked more closely, trying to identify a large, colorful object with several protuberances discarded on the floor next to a crate. The moon chased the shadows away long enough for me to see that the object was a carousel horse painted in glorious shades of blue.

The moon held the horse in its silver light. When I shifted my point of view I think I saw other forms in the shadows, maybe other animals? The scene was compelling yet I wondered why I had been brought to this warehouse. I shifted again and came face to face with an industrious bumblebee lifting off from one of the fully blown roses. Absurd as it sounds I greeted the bee, "Hi, honey," and it seemed to dance a greeting back to me. The crow and the cat sat just above me on the roof watching every movement.

I looked at them. I watched the bee. I studied the carousel horse. After some time I understood the path the roses pursued. They were growing through the broken window as if that horse were their goal! "Excuse me," I said to the bee, broke off a spray of roses, and tossed them down toward the horse. "I don't know what I am supposed to do for you, but I will find out and I will be back."
Now what? I am back where I began. Well, not exactly. I finally figured out that bit about "Heart-mysteries there" and it may explain some of the images. The landscape of part of the dream sounds like the landscape of Yeats' "The Circus Animals' Desertion" -- but why did I dream this? Why have I dreamed of it a number of times?