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"?

Tea Party: "Melissa"

h, I wish I knew how I could have lived so long in ignorance of my dreams! Every one has been glorious and leaves me feeling transported for DAYS afterward and I think nothing could possibly top it, but then that is exactly what happens! It is as if the ... the ... the Dreaming Universe is determined to outdo itself.

Last night I was so happy to receive my Crow in my dream. He stood before me and danced a bit and invited me to fly with him, as he always does, but I detected something ... something ... in his manner which piqued my curiosity. "We must fly. We must fly to the western paradise where you shall have tea." We flew and I savored his strength and his beauty. I always forget everything else when he is near and last night was no exception. Our flight path was steep. We soared up above the clouds and I think we flew to a height higher even than his rose-strewn nest!

We flew toward a mountain. The sunlight above the clouds bathed the mountainside in iridescence and I looked at my hands and arms to see if they, too, had such a glow. My Crow cawed, adjusted his wings, and landed on a ledge near a stunning and ancient magnolia tree in bloom. From somewhere beyond the magnolia I heard calls of "kek-kek-kek" and "kalooo kaleeooo" as if in answer to my Crow, who shook out his plumage, hopped onto my shoulder and preened a bit more as I walked in the direction of the bird calls.

Nothing my Crow could have done would have prepared me for the breathtaking sight of the two glorious women who stepped forward to greet me as I neared a table set for tea. They ... They were so rare in appearance that I felt I must have lost blood or oxygen or something because I wasn't certain my eyes were working properly. Both women had dark hair; one of them appeared distinctly Asian in her features and dress. A whooping crane stood next to her, watching me solemnly.

The second woman - oh, dear, how do I describe her? I could not believe my eyes and I feared she could hear my mind screaming, "Manners, Melissa! Manners!" because I could neither move nor speak. All I wanted to do was watch her. She was the Faery Queen - the Faery Queen on the card my Crow gave me! She was like the sunshine bathing the mountain and like champagne and ... my brain is locking up again as I write this!

Both women were wonderfully gracious, especially in the face of my thunderstruck appearance. They bid me welcome - their voices were just as beautiful as all else about them - and directed my attention to the table set for tea. I noticed two things then: the table was set with six place settings, and the Faery Queen stopped to feed a falcon on a perch. "Xi Wang Mu," the Fairy Queen nodded toward the other woman, "insists I spoil him, but he is a love and we work so well together. A morsel now and then is a treat from my heart."

"Our hostesses have arrived," Xi Wang Mu spoke as the sound of wings reached us and foliage rustled around us. Three women borne on the backs of three swans landed and walked to us, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles. I think they were dressed as Amazons. Their golden hair shimmered in the sunlight and their creamy skin glowed.

How can I ever describe the experience of a tea party with goddesses? I hosted tea parties as a little girl with my tea set spread on a tree stump before my stuffed bears and ponies. This was beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Is this somehow connected to the Chardonnay I bought? Is it possible? The label did say, "Discover the goddess", but nothing prepared me for this!

The Valkyries brought mead - with gratitude expressed to the Faery Queen for her industrious bees - and meats and insisted upon serving me - me! Xi Wang Mu, whom the Valkyries addressed as "Queen Mother," brought peaches, like miniatures suns, from her own beloved garden. To my surprise the Faery Queen brought cakes made with Guinness and cakes made with oats, and honey. She winked and smiled sweetly before she told me she knew Guinness to be a particular favorite of mine.

The scent of the magnolias and the buzzing of bees were a perfect complement to the company and the light. We each plucked a bloom from the tree and tucked it between our breasts. They read poetry, some of it about wings. I knew one of the poems, T. S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I remember untying my tongue enough to ask them, seated around me, "Do I dare to eat a peach?"

Oh, how shall I presume to speak my dream of tea with the goddesses? "I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was". Here I am, now, with human voices outside on the street below, "And the afternoon ... sleeps so peacefully!" I cling to this dream even when "after tea and cakes and ices" the Crow bade me climb on his back and I looked up to see those goddesses, their arms "braceleted and white and bare," blowing kisses.