Dreamweaver
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Dream Weaver, Fly me high through those starry skies Gary Wright |
Odysseus and Telemakhe further refined their plans while sorting through javelins, maces, shields and the like. Odysseus could feel herself swelling with pride sensing the strength and intelligence of her daughter. When they were through, they sat down together on a bench and tiredly looked at their handiwork. Was everything in place? Had they forgotten anything?
Nothing more came to mind, so Odysseus headed for a corner to sleep. Telemakhe tried to convince her mother to please sleep somewhere more comfortable, but Odysseus emphasised the need for her to remain in character. Telemakhe herself found a particularly soft sheep skin and placed it in that corner Odysseus would slumber.
As the castle became quieter still Odysseus lay fitfully in the dining hall, her eyes wide open. She had almost given up hope of sleep when she felt the harmonies of a distant song wrap around her body, penetrating every cell. What tune was this and where did it come from? Her mind was soothed by the notes and would not think on such questions. She wasn't aware when her eyelids dropped.
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She was sitting on a hillside that was somehow located within a tall marble temple. Nearby was a clear pool in a silver basin. Just breathing the air in this place made everything seem so much clearer, so much more vibrant. The grass was a multitude of greens from a tender yellow-green to a shade like polished malachite; verdant didn't begin to describe it. The sky was not only a shimmering blue, but was shot through with white gold threads. The pool shone more brilliantly than the moon as the sun glinted off its surface and shattered into rainbows. A great bright light within a glowing transparent sphere hovered near the pool. She remembered seeing something like this in a moment of joy. She could hear the tinkling of laughter in her memory. The bright light then took form and stood tall before her, an image of herself, only more grand with grey flashing eyes and hair tumbling down in golden braids. For the first time she noticed that the eyes were not truly grey, they were the colour of the universe in its first moments of creation. The figure motioned to the pool. She wandered up to its side. "Can you see the story?" asked the figure. At first she was afraid that she might be blinded if she looked into those reflecting surfaces. Yet, with a glance she found that she could easily stare into the water's depths and across its undulating skin. Then she saw her life up to that moment and beyond; her life as if it were a sunbeam passed through cut glass. Simultaneously it took on many parallel forms. Sometimes she was male, sometimes female. Sometimes she returned to her spouse, sometimes she stayed with one of her lovers. Sometimes she had a child, sometimes several, and sometimes none. The facets were endless. She looked closely at those moments to come, many involved death, including her own. Focussing closer still she found that in all that confusion what she really wanted was more opportunities to cherish her husband, and that daughter she had yet to know. The figure spoke, "Remember, the choice is yours as to how this story will end." |
How strange to sleep so peacefully, after making such dreadful plans.