Showing posts with label Waterman fountain pen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Waterman fountain pen. Show all posts

Friday, January 8, 2010

'Statues Crumble for Me': "Melissa"




verywhere I go statues crumble for me ... who knows how long I've loved you?" I heard that over and over in my dream last night; it sounded like part of a song. Maybe it is. I don't know. All I know is that I dreamt I was back in that office at St. Clair Shores staring in fascination at a mirror someone had hung on the wall. I was startled, to say the least, because it was the same mirror those demon cats held in that dream from a long time ago - the one with Medusa.

Before I could figure out just why the mirror would be in my St. Clair Shores office I saw Medusa herself appear in the mirror and stand with her back to me, looking into an identical mirror. A mirror within a mirror. Medusa asked the mirror, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the foulest of them all?" All I could think was that this was certainly not the way I learned the "Snow White" story when I was little. My mouth dropped open - I must have looked like some landed fish! - when the mirror told her a name just before she stepped into the mirror and walked between two rows of beds in some amazing room in a gothic church or castle of stone. It reminded me of the children's story "Madeline" ... twelve little girls in two straight lines. I counted them as I watched.

She was utterly silent and wasted no time singling out one of the sleeping forms on one of the twelve beds. A pair of worn out shoes with battered soles lay at the foot of each bed and each princess - for I recognized the twelve dancing princesses asleep on those beds - had dropped on top of the bed covers in her ball gown.

Twelve times Medusa questioned the mirror and twelve times she went into that vast room on the other side of it, to touch a princess and turn her to stone. I have no idea why she asked her question of the mirror repeatedly, but she did. I remember it vividly.

I stood there staring at the sight of those twelve immobilized princesses lying there in that vast space - effigies, it seemed, atop their tombs. Answers, I wanted answers, but I wasn't sure where to begin. I did receive a happy answer, of sorts. My Crow arrived just then, along with young Ham and his buddy, Sam. They flew in on a pig, the pig from the 'Lost and Found' bin, right behind my Crow.

Ham called out to me that we had to go break the spell on the princesses. I started to climb onto my Crow's back, but suddenly remembered something. I shouted "Wait!" and ran out of the room. The next thing I knew I was digging through the 'Lost and Found' bin, pulling out shoes, their tongues flapping. I shoved the shoes into a bag and climbed on my Crow's back, then we flew - boy, girl, and woman, pig and Crow - through the mirror into the princesses' sleeping chamber.

Ham leapt from his pig and ran from bed to bed, kissing each statue as I ran from bed to bed leaving shoes for them. I could not hear what Ham said to the princesses because the sound of crumbling and falling stone became a bit loud, and we hurried away because the Crow said it was time to go, time to leave.

Back at St. Clair Shores Ham, Sam and I snacked on animal crackers and cocoa in the office. The Crow joined us after flying around a bit, and he gave me a puppet he found somewhere. The puppet was LOVELY - a medieval king in beautiful robes with a crown on his head. His robe was embroidered with a myriad of stars among shields decorated with a gold lion of the coat-of-arms of King Richard I, King Richard the Lion-Hearted.
I slid my hand into the puppet then picked up my pen. I wielded it like a sword and tapped Ham first on one shoulder, then the other. "In the name of King Richard the Lion-Hearted I knight thee Sir Ham, for your courageous and loving service to the Order of the Heart. I hereby knight your loyal and steadfast steed also. Rise, Sir Ham."

Friday, June 5, 2009

St. Clair Shores: "Melissa"




asmine scents the breeze caressing me as I write in the quiet before dawn. After quite a long spell the dreams returned last night and I am very happy; things often sort themselves out better than I can imagine when I remember and listen to the dreams, to the dreaming.

This dream was another set at night. The moon shone in a sky of deep crystalline blue, its reflection glittering on the body of water at my feet and the moist sand along the shore. I looked to my right and to my left for some sort of marker to help me identify my surroundings. In the distance off to my right I saw a building - a cabin? a lodge? - with a sign, so I walked toward that.

The sign simply read 'St. Clair Shores.' Some sort of device had been painted in the middle, but the paint had worn off so the image was unrecognizable. While I stood there wondering what 'St. Clair Shores' could mean I noticed clumps of trash strewn on the sand and afloat on the water. I looked around for a stick or a pole, something to scoop the junk out of the water and up off of the beach, intending to place the trash in some waste bins I could see along the side of the building.

All I could find was my black Waterman fountain pen! While I stood with the pen in my hand, reflecting on the irony of finding a Waterman fountain pen on a beach I heard the call of my beloved Crow and looked up to see him land on the 'St. Clair Shores' sign.

He danced a bit atop the sign, bobbing and prancing, bowing his head to me. He soon began to sing, as he had so long ago in that first dream, "Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble." So I set to work moving along the shore, clearing debris, following my Crow as he hopped and flew away down the shoreline.

Soon I saw where he'd been leading me all along and I laughed to see the little girl from previous dreams. She stood in the shallows, watching an island through a spyglass. At our approach she turned and spoke excitedly, "There are things like bubbles beside the island, but I don't think they're bubbles. I think they're eyes!"

I could imagine a number of creatures whose eyes might be seen just above the water, none of which I felt ready to meet. As I looked out across the water, however, I could see the figures of the Faery Queen and her King, who appeared to be helping little people out of the water and into the cup-like buds of magnolias, bobbing on the water.

The royal couple made signs of blessing over each petite sailor before draping sparkling medallions around the neck of each and letting the tiny floral boats slip into the current. Soon a miniature flotilla was sailing toward our shore.