Never: "Melissa"

ever, never, ever! - would I have guessed that someone could look at me and smile like that! I remind myself over and over that it was just a dream, but it still rocks me. I feel like I've been hit by lightning. And the blinding smile isn't even all of it! I think I'd better begin at the beginning.

In this dream I was wandering around somewhere, I don't know where, but

it looked like a park of some sort. There was an air of expectation, I thought, and I looked around to see if something was happening. There were people walking into a ruined building - I think it was an old church or temple or something. So I followed them.

The interior of this ruined temple had been transformed into a theatre and up on the stage I could see the twelve dancing princesses. The set was made to look like their bedroom on the morning after they'd been dancing. They were lounging around drinking tea from their dancing slippers! How funny. The scene was witty and kind and thoughtful, and enchanting. They seemed so sweet. It would be so much fun to know women like that.

I was smiling on the inside and the outside by the end of the play so I wandered into the gift shop to see what I could find to take home with me. The Richard-the-Lionhearted puppet was there as were some adorable papier mache slippers like the ones the princesses used to serve tea to one another. I laughed out loud when I saw those. There were fools' caps, too, like the one in the office at St. Clair Shores, and each had a scepter to match - a scepter with bells.

Then I saw rows and rows of a book of poetry. The covers caught my attention because they were like the photos and pictures in the "Harry Potter" stories - the people moved and spoke. There was a woman in a Renaissance gown standing in a garden of some sort. She was stroking the brow of a unicorn and speaking with a young girl who also wore a dress of the Renaissance period. In the background I saw a lion, like the one on the Richard-the-Lionhearted puppet.

In a flowing script across the top, with flowers and vines interlaced among the letters was the title, "Sonnets to Ophelia." I remember thinking while I was dreaming that "Sonnets to Ophelia"sounded very intriguing. I turned the book to see if there would be a photo of the poet - and had the shock of my life.

As soon as I saw that dark, dark hair and the blood-stained white shirt I knew he was my 'Dark Man' from the warehouse - but I still could not see his face. His back was turned to me. I must have cried out or something (I was so frustrated!) because he turned very slowly and looked at me. He smiled. He smiled that smile that blinded me. I felt - still do feel - like I'd been struck by lightning. A cliche, I know, but ... Can you feel everything stop inside you in a dream? You must, because that's what if felt like, everything just stopped. I never knew anyone could smile like that. I never knew anyone could smile like that at me! And everything just stopped. I can feel it all stopping, and shifting, inside even as I write this.

By the time I gathered my wit (not wits, only one wit) it was too late. He'd turned away again. I wanted to cry, but decided to buy the book, and the little shoes, instead. As I was paying for them I heard someone who sounded like a cantor singing back in the theatre: "I saw water flowing from the right side of the temple." I looked to my right and, yes, there was a window and, yes, I could see a river flowing past.

I don't know how long I spent sketching his face from memory, but I'm glad I did it. I had to. Since I sketched the tableau of the women in the garden I find myself thinking it feels familiar to me, but I can't say why. It is strange, too, to realize that the girl's face reminds me a lot of my face - I saw that as I turned it over in my mind while I sketched. Strange.

I do not understand this. Why is a girl who looks like me wearing Renaissance period clothing depicted on the cover of a book of poetry, written by my 'Dark Man,' with the title "Sonnets to Ophelia"?

Twelve Dancing Princesses: 'Melissa'

dreamt I fell asleep over the story I was writing at the desk in the office of St. Clair Shores. (It is not a good sign when my own writing puts me to sleep!) Some snatches of music, drifting in from somewhere on the property, and a solitary giggle woke me. While I sat, blinking, I heard the giggle again, then again, and left the desk and my soporific story to investigate.

Out of the inn and across the lawn I stumbled to stand on the rock strewn shore, shivering and wondering what I was seeing. At first I saw only swaying lights - I counted a dozen - but I soon realized that the lights were mounted on small boats. I cannot say if the boats departed from the same place or not, nor can I say whether they had departed from the island I could so clearly see. All I know is that a dozen boats came over the water to settle on St. Clair Shores.

One by one each of the twelve princesses stepped from her boat to stand before me as if for inspection. I noted that while each princess was dressed in her own individual style all of the boats were swan boats. I was rather awed by the princesses and I probably stared too pointedly for too long, but they were kind and patient, thankfully.

When I found my voice I was horrified to hear myself, well, shriek in a horrid and unpleasant manner. I thought of just running away and when I turned to go I heard a swishing noise behind me. The river rocks felt different under my feet and when I looked down I discovered I had the legs and feet of a bird! I confess, I panicked. After some frenzied dancing and jerking, which amused the princesses enough to make them giggle, I figured out I had become a peacock! The swishing sound had been the wind through those magnificent tail feathers.

For whatever reason, once I had discerned my 'fowl' identity I marched off in the direction of the music, calling loudly as I did, the princesses in a line behind me. I watched them dance and dance, and when it was time I led them, each carrying her tattered shoes, back to their swan boats.

I do not know how everything shifted (I never do in these dreams), but I suddenly found myself outside the warehouse. The princesses arrived at the door, each in her own time, each pressing her thumb to that labyrinth symbol to gain entrance. When the door closed behind the last princess I stole up the spiral ladder and hid behind the roses to see what I might of the princesses. What I saw, however, was all those tattered soles lying amid discarded carousel horses.

I wonder what it means, if anything, that the horses were all either black or white? Hmmm ... This is intriguing. It seems almost as if the dream is a message to wake up from what I was trying to write and ... what? ... escort twelve dancing princesses to the ball, as a peacock? Can a woman even become a peacock - the ones with the gorgeous, magnificent tails are the males, aren't they?