Hullo everyone and welcome to my short Sandman fanfiction.
I may write more of these short fictions with the other Endless, but for now I am pleased with just this one. I had written this a while ago but never finished it. I hope you enjoy!
Sandman belongs to the wonderful Neil Gaiman. Adele and Jay belong to me.
Please Rate/Review!
- GWU.
Dreamstone
Usually when one thinks about grandmothers, the image of a sweet, kindly blue-haired old lady with a plate of cookies and milk waiting for their little grand children who come to visit. My Grandmother was far from making milk and cookies, or being sweet or having blue hair. Well, she did have blue streaks one time, but that's because my grandmother was an all over nut-case. Not the crazy old bitties who had nine-billion cats in their house who worse mumus and bunny slippers, no, my grandmother was just a plain crazy-old bitch who had too many books, liked tea and old stories, like ones about gods and goddesses who no one even knows about.
Bat-shit crazy. That's one way to put it. She wore the weirdest outfits, ate the nastiest things, did the weirdest crap no one but crazy wiccans and other paganists do on their friday nights out. I even caught the old braud dancing naked in the full moon light. When I first met her I was about eight years old when I first met her. My mom and dad decided it was time I met the coot. We flew across the ocean over to Maine the summer time, so the weather was decent enough. I don't remember who had been more horrified of my grandmother's behavior, my mom or myself. My dad didn't seem to mind, because well, he actually liked his mother-in-law.
However, I felt utterly afraid to be alone with her. She had blue streaks and feathers and beads in her long messy-moppish head of hair. She wore a silky long nighty colored like old wine and splashed with gold. Her eyes reminded me vaguely of hazel nuts and amber. She had a tattoo on her right arm of a sun, and a moon on her left. I might have liked her at that age if it weren't for the things in her hair, or that crazy youthful spark in her eye. She didn't even look old.
"Hullo, Addy," she said to me one time. I was sitting on her living room couch with a seal-point siamese in my lap,"I'm your grandmonster, Jay." Her name was young too. I didn't understand how such an old woman could seem so young. It scared the willies right out of me and down her hallway. I spent the night alone in her house while my parents stayed at a nearby hotel. I was really really angry at them for leaving me alone.
"Get to know your grandmother, Adele, for goodness' sakes!" My mom had scolded me when I made my distress obvious.
Her house didn't scare me. No, it was a nice open house. My room had white walls and a nice bed with pretty yellow sheets that smelled nice. The old woman knew how to take care of children, that is for sure. Even in the darkest part of the night, the moon lit up my room as if it had been mid-day. The seal-point siamese I had grown fond of who went by the name of Octavian curled up in the crook of my knees. It was not the house that scared me. Just the fact that I was sleeping in a strange old woman's house.
At two AM, I woke up and went to the open window in my room. Full moon. I looked down at the lawn and there she was, dancing bare-assed naked like a newborn on the grass. At first I didn't know what to think. This woman was clearly fickle in the head, and drank too much tea. I told myself this is just a dream and then she looked up at me and smiled, beckoning me down to her. My own two feet stumbled over each other as I went down the hallway not on my own will. I found myself barefoot and naked in the secluded yard under the moon and surrounded by the trees and stars. I removed my long night gown and then she led me to the center telling me,"Dance with me, Addy. Have some fun."
I danced. There was no music, and so I looked stiff and awkward and the cold bit at my bare skin. She danced with me, and soon I began to hear music playing. It came out of no where. I kept thinking to myself "This woman is insane, and I am dreaming. A very real dream."
When I woke up that morning, with the sun streaming into my window and Octavian still sleeping at the foot of the comfy yellow sheets that make me feel all happy. I breathed in deep, and unlike my silly dream, I was still dressed. I wanted to go down and tell my new grandmother about my dream and how silly it had been. I kicked my legs over the side of the bed when I noticed the grass stains and dirt under my toe nails.
Over the years, I grew to like the crazy old bitch. I loved her. I couldn't wait to visit her every summer. My parents were relieved to get rid of me for their own vacations and holidays together. I loved the days and nights spent in the sweet summers, making honey from bee hives in the forest by her house, petting Octavian while being read to in her sun-rooms and then spent the evenings on her porch under her large quilt and listened to her as she told me stories of each and every single dream she had, why the stars come out only at night, and why the moon waxes and wanes.
I remember one story she told me the morning I saw a brown dove sitting on her porch. I asked her why it was brown and not white like other doves. She laughed softly and pulled me into her old arms. I could smell the tea-tree oil and honey suckle and jasmine on her sun-dress, and relaxed into her soft chest.
"Those are morning doves, luvvie. When doves were first created, white-as-snow, they all looked the same. Not a care in the world, them pretty doves. They flew to their clouds, lovin' nothin' else. One day, a single dove sat on a tree top, waiting for the sun to rise so she may go and find her own cloud. Why, when the first rays of light peaked over the hills, she fell inlove- not with a cloud, no no- she fell in love with the sun 'imself. Why, for three days and three nights she sat up there in that tree, sighing and letting her heart long for his golden light again. When the other doves found out who she chose, they all were baffled.
'You may not love the sun,' one said. 'He will burn you if you go to close,' said another. All this time, she ignored their words. One morning she set off from her tree top and flew to the sun. When she arrived at his beautiful sun-palace, he found her weak and half starved from the journey. And as you know, the sun is kind to all living things when he wants to be. He saw her love for him on her tree top, and felt his golden heart flow with love. When she awoke, she was healthy and strong and in the sun's arms. In his beautiful eyes she saw sunrises, and sunsets, and in those she saw his love for her. They made love, and when she woke up, her feathers no longer white, but a beautiful creamy brown and a loveprint of a sunset on her breast. Her children were from then on called 'Morning Doves', because of the mornings that single Dove spent waiting for the Sun to rise." It had been my favorite.
It started to change as I got older. I no longer felt like going to visit with my Grandmother. I preferred cigarettes over cookies and cheap leather mini-skirts over long sundresses. Night clubs and parties over long walks in the woods behind her house or moonlight dancing. I had changed and grown older. Every time the old bitch would look at me it made my insides screams and tear apart from guilt. I ignored her when she started to rant about how I'm turning into a terrible person.
"Shut up," I remember telling her once. "You're not my mother."
Her eyes would have scared devil back to hell with the way she looked at me. I could see myself in her eyes. Long black hair, pale skin and a little red dress that did nothing to hide my modesty. I saw a woman I never wanted to be and yet I was her. I almost felt like crying. Instead I burned my cigarette right on the polished wood table and stared back at her.
"I'm not your mom, but I sure as hell gave birth to her as she gave birth to you." She grabbed her teacup and stormed out of the kitchen,"And if you light one more cigarette, I will light your ass on fire!"
I had left right after, since my boyfriend was waiting for me in the drive way. He wasn't even a boyfriend, really. Just another guy I saw every summer and went to parties with. I didn't even understand why I was with him, he had a beard and never shaved it and used too much cologne and hair gel. When he smiled I could see yellow teeth and a snaggle-tooth and his laugh was too loud and obnoxious. I still stayed with him and I never once complained. At the back of the club I pulled out my lighter and placed a cigarette between my lips. As the lighter sparked to life I stared at the tiny flame and saw my grandmother looking back at me. I tossed the lighter into a trash can and spat the cigarette out. My boyfriend was wondering why I did that.
I opened my eyes right when he pushed deep inside of me on his cheep futon mattress and made a weird panting noise. He was sweating and smelled disgusting. I told him to stop, but he kept thrusting,"You're crazy baby we just got started."
I said I didn't care, and to stop right now, and he kept going. It didn't feel good, hell I could've cared less. I reached over and grabbed his alarm clock. I ripped the chord from the wall and then slammed it against the side of his face. "You crazy bitch! What the fuck was that for!" He was wailing and crying out in pain. I could see the blood trickling down the side of his cheek.
I didn't say anything as I pulled on the dress and panties, grabbed my jacket and left. It was a twelve mile hike back to my grandmother's home. And it was freezing cold. A bum tried to feel me up and I slammed my fist into his mouth. His teeth cut my knuckles but he didn't get up.
When I pushed open the screen door to the cozy little house my legs were numb, my face was red from wind burn and my hands were dry and cracked, and my knuckles bled freely. I stood in the middle of the hallway when the light in the living room turned on and the TV noise stopped. I saw my grandmother step into the hallway in a long robe and she just stared at me for the longest time, her head tilted to one side and her brows furrowed deeply. I saw the creases of her wrinkles making intricate designs on her face. She had no feathers in her hair and no braids either. Her hair was long and settled around her bony shoulders. I saw how old she was, and just how tired she had been waiting for me. Right then and there, I broke down like a disturbed child in a grocery store who didn't get their favorite cereal. I screamed and I cried like a new born baby just slapped on the ass. I wailed like a woman giving birth. I yelled like a soldier who's leg had been shot. The woman didn't leave me. The damn bitch came over and knelt beside me, hugging me close and rocking me like a boat on the ocean. She never said a word as I continued to just sit their and cry. She took me to the kitchen, wrapped my hand in anticeptic and bandages and walked me to the white bedroom with yellow sheets. I fell asleep sobbing into her chest as she held me close, not once moving until the morning.
We sat out on the porch that morning, wrapped in thick quilts, just watching the birds eat from the feeders. We didn't speak, but sort of listened to each other breathing, thinking...
I didn't go the next summer. I was looking at colleges around the country this summer for classes. I didn't even realise how old I was until I saw my own driver's license legally stating I was no longer a minor and could vote. I was visiting a college in Maine when I drove myself up to the house. The door was open and I let myself in.
The house was unusually quiet, and the bird feeder was empty. Not once had my grandmother ever neglected to fill the bird feeder. I searched the house, calling her name when I finally found her in the sun-room. She was sitting in her favorite chair, a letter under her hand and a smooth black stone in the other. By the smell I guessed her dead for about a day. Her face was pale and still. There was no pain or suffering in her expression. I cried a little, that much I remember. We held her funeral ceremony in her own backyard and I made sure to fill the feeders all the way for her.
I didn't open the letter under her hand, yet I knew it was for me. I waited until after the Will reading by her lawyer. The old woman had been stashing so much money for my college fund it wasn't funny. She left me the house and property. Everything.
That's when I didn't understand the bitch. I didn't do anything to deserve all of that money or the fucking house. I felt guilt weigh in my stomach as heavy as the black stone now felt in my pocket. It felt as heavy as the coffin when I carried it to the cemetry. As heavy as the rain that fell for a week straight afterwards. As heavy as the tears that rolled down my cheeks each time I thought about her and how empty the house was now that she had gone.
All that time, I never once looked at the letter. I carried it with me, in my pocket with the black stone. I slept in my little room as I had done when I was younger. I hid under the yellow sheets like a little girl. Only this time I couldn't hear her shufflinf around the kitchen in the morning or feel the warmth and weight of a cat at the crook of my knees.
Finally one morning I was drinking a cup of her favorite tea when I saw the letter that I had placed on the kitchen table next to the cigarette burn I had left years ago. I hesitated.
I stared at it.
And stared.
And stared...
Until finally I reached for it with shanking hands, brushing the stone aside and picking up the crumpled envelope with the cursive writing with my name, Adele, in black ink. I ripped the seal and pulled out the letter.
Addy,
I am sorry about this whole mess, for one. The doctors gave me this high-uppity bullshit that said I wouldn't live for another year. I decided to write this afternoon just to get it out of my way. In the Will, which you most likely read, I left mostly everything to you. You're going to college and you needed the money and a house to provide you. I made sure everything had been paid off beforehand so you wouldn't have to work to keep it. Your grandfather had quite a bit of money in his stocks and businesses. I had to run that when he was killed in service in Iraq. You can thank him for being the biggest provider for your mother and uncles and myself. Now that you know the mystery behind all of the family money I had saved for my only grandchild (Why your uncles never had children I don't know...) I want to tell you something I had never told anyone before, not even your mother or your grandfather. Before I turned sixteen my life had been well enough. I never felt totally rejected socially as I had felt. I longed for dreams to become realities. Let me tell you this, Addy, your dreams are everything in this world until you die. I mean it. This isn't typical in-the-movies bullshit things that are really inspirational with a whole piece of music behind it. I want this to be as real as possible for you. I'm going to tell you a dream that had come true.
When I turned sixteen I had a big fight with my mother. I was depressed and angsty like most teens are around that age. I locked myself in my room and hid under the blankets and cried myself to sleep. I don't even remember walking to the shoreline. I just remembered standing in the sand, the breeze kicking up around me and running through my hair, as if the wind itself were whispering to me. I smiled, and it felt like the wind gave me a light kiss.
Out on the horzion, lit by the most beautiful full moon I had ever seen, a large black horse was galloping towards me. I could see the blue and the moonlight shining off of his black coat like nothing I had ever seen before. I didn't move from my spot on the sand, nor did it seem to bother me at the moment that this large black horse was running on water that was as smooth as glass. When he stopped infront of me our eyes locked. Those were the deepest and blackest eyes I had ever seen. There was no reflection in them, like two black holes, so deep and endless. The one thing that made them beautiful were the two shining stars in those eyes. Those two stars were symbols of hope for anyone. In those eyes were the dreams of every living thing that could dream.
I touched his cheek and then his powerful neck and he sighed at me. The wind blew aroud me like a shawl or blanket of comfort that seemed to say "Trust him,"
I did. He knelt down in the sand and I swung a leg over his back. I never felt more powerful or full of life in that moment I was high on adrenaline and pure excitement. My hands gripped onto his mane tightly as he started to walk forward. Then the walk became a canter and then a full on gallop down the white-sandy beach. I felt the wind whisper again,"Trust him."
And I did. I held on with my legs and then stretched out my hands on either side and felt like I was flying. After who knows how long, I held onto his mane once more. He started to run faster until I thought he would take off into the air. The funny thing is, he did. I saw the large black wigs growing out from his shoulders and in one powerful stroke we were airborne. Oh God I had never felt so wonderful in my entire life then flying on the back of a horse through the night sky.
I can't begin to explain how amazing it had been to feel the wind blow right through as if your whole body were a cloud. We flew for what seemed like hours until he landed in a small glade in a heavily wooded forest. There was a large opening with an even large lake. It was like a mirror the way the moon shone into those dark waters, much like the horse's eyes. I was so transfixed with the beauty of the lake that I didn't even see the horse transform into a tall pale man with those same eyes and long black hair. He was dressed in black robes that seemed to have fire dancing in them. I did not know who he was, and I remembered the wind telling me to just trust him. He held out a hand to me and I took it. He lead me to the edge of the lake and when he stepped down causing a graceful ripple on the water, I knew what I was supposed to do. I never understood how we could have walked on water. Neither of us spoke a word as he lead me to the middle of the lake. He placed his other hand at my hip and mine on his shoulder and we danced.
There was no music and I don't think we needed an orchestra to create the wonderful music I felt in my body as he lead me around the smooth surface of the lake, only gentle ripples disturbing the surface. I had never taken a single dancing lesson yet I knew all of the steps as if I had been programmed to dance like this forever. Each step brought me closer and closer to loving this stranger who I have never met before. I could tell we were nearing the end of our dance as we slowed. At the center of the lake we stopped and he drew me in close to him. He was cool like a summer evening, yet his breath against my forhead was warm. I had placed my hands on his chest and looked up at him expectantly as if were going to kiss. Instead he pressed his lips right above my eyebrows and took my hand. When he pulled away I felt a smooth stone pressed firmly into my palm. I didn't ask why he gave it to me even as he pressed his lips once more against my hand.
I never wanted to leave but I knew I had to. I don't remember walking home. I don't remember ever leaving my bed. When I woke up I felt the sun streaming on my face and a cool black stone, smooth as the lake upon which I danced under my hand.
Adele. I love you very much, and I know by giving you this stone means that a dream in which I will never have again will live on in the memory that is yours. This dream gave me hope to carry on through with my life without regrets. It gave me hope. Never show this letter to anyone else. I don't care what you do with it. Never let another set of eyes lay on this statement or whatever it is. Dream on, my little Addy. I'll be with you always.
Love,
Your Grandmonster Jay.
I had pressed the stone so hard into my chest that when I pulled back there was a red imprint of it on my skin. I didn't even know I had been crying until I felt the tears drop onto my hand. I went to bed that night thinking of my Grandmother and what she had meant by telling me this one dream of hers that had only been a dream and nothing more. Yet still, I took the stone and fell asleep with it under my hand each night. For a week I slept like this until I had a dream on Sunday night. I was sitting under a tree in the daylight, the shade felt pretty good. In the light I could see a girl walking towards me. She was wearing a seafoam green sundress, her long blonde hair almost gold in the sunlight. I could see the hints of blue dye streaked in her hair. I stood up as she climbed the slope towards me. When she looked into my eyes finally I knew who this girl was.
"Hey, Addy." Her smile was bright and I smiled back.
"Hey," was all I could say to her. She sat down against the tree and patted the spot beside her,"I've missed you," she told me as she placed her arm around my shoulder. I nodded,"I miss you still." She laughed softly.
"But I'm still with you, sweety."
"How? You're not in the house anymore. You're not there to feed to birds or drink your tea. How can you be with me?" He dark eyes sparkled and her hand touched the center of my chest where I vaguely rememered pressing the black stone to it days ago.
"Right here. Your heart."
I shook my head,"But you're not even you anymore..."
"Of course I am. This is who I always have been and still am. Just as you will always be you." I wrapped my arms around this young woman who had been my grandmother and held her tightly. "I was going to surprise you," I whispered to her. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged back.
"I know, Addy. My surprise was much worse though. I'm sorry." She kissed my head lightly.
"You died, there shouldn't be anything that you're sorry about... You died. It's okay." She sighed and stroked my head gently, like she had done as an old woman,"Death isn't bad. She just does her job, just as the others do theirs, save for Destruction. He reminds me of your grandfather with his red hair. He's a nice man. I hope you get to meet him and the others."
I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but I let her ramble on about these people I would never meet. After a while she shifted under me.
"Addy, it's time to wake up, sweety. I'll always be with you, sweety." I moved so she could get up. Just before she walked out into the daylight she turned and looked down at me.
"Get a new cat for me, please? Octavian told me the house needs one." I smiled at her slumped against the tree just as I felt my body gain so much more weight,"Okay. I love you." My eyes shut just as she disappeared into the bright light.
I woke up that morning feeling like I had slept against a tree all night. I probably had. I took a trip up to the nearest petshop in town and browsed through the cats for adoption and for sale. None of them seemed right to me. Each one gazed up at me with distant expressions like they didn't know me or didn't want me. I wandered through the town, aimlessly just looking at every cat I could see. I headed back to my car when a distant mewling directed me to the alleyway dumpster. I thought no way in hell could this happen, but it did. Under the large dumpster was a tiny calico kitten. I pulled her out as carefully as I could and wrapped her in a towel from the back seat of my car. I drove her home with me and cleaned her up. She purred as if running on a jet engine.
I named her Hermione, not after the girl in Harry Potter, but after the daughter of Menelaus and Helen of Sparta. The name seemed to fit her just fine. I fell asleep that night once more with the stone under my hand and Hermione curled against my stomach like a heated vibrating pad.
I was back in the field, only this time it was night time and the moon was bright and full like a ripe fruit. I walked out from under the tree into the moonlight. A warm breeze wrapped around me. I felt the stone in my hand and I knew this couldn't possibly be a dream. I stopped walking when I felt the wind caress my lips like a gentle kiss. I shivered and stopped just as I saw a white horse galloping towards me in the tall grass. He stopped infront of me, a bright glowing emerald embedded in his chest. I looked into his eyes and saw the twin stars shining in the dark. I reached out to touch his neck but a hand took mine instead. The horse had become a tall man with white hair and skin in white robes. A large emerald hung around his neck as a pendant. I couldn't look away from him no matter how hard I tried.
"I'm Adele," I said, unsure if saying hi to him was right or wrong. His gaze leveled with mine.
"I know," he told me,"I know you like you know me. I cannot explain it."
I blinked at him,"Yes, I know you," I agreed. I touched his face, feeling braver than my grandmother ever had. It was cool and soothing to the touch like the side of the pillow just flipped over. "I'm dreaming."
"Yes, you are."
I didn't know what to say after that. He placed my hand around his arm and we started to walk through the fields in the moon light. "You knew my grandmother," I said to him. It wasn't a question, but rather stating a fact.
"I did know your grandmother, but I also did not know her. She knew me but does not know me. A part of her lives in you like another part of me that I have become..." I nodded once more, feeling dumb for not understanding. I didn't care either. We spoke for a long time as we walked through the field. Most of it about nothing.
"I found a kitten," I told him,"I named her Hermione."
"There is a Goddess who watches over cats and women. You are well protected." I smiled at him, then rested my head on his shoulder.
"This dream is different than last time. Last time they danced."
"I do not recall dancing, but if you wish, I will dance with you."
He then took my hand and placed it on his shoulder and his hand on my waist. I didn't know how to dance, and I don't think he did either. Everything he did was uncertain and hesitant like it was the first time. It wasn't as graceful as my grand mother described. We were dancing in high grass and I stumbled more than once, but enjoyed every moment of it. Once or twice I saw a abrely visible smile on his face. Further and further into the dance I felt myself moving more fluidly and gracefully as we moved into the night. The moon was setting and I didn't want to stop dancing just yet. He stopped me first and drew me close to him. I gazed up into those eyes of his, then wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt this stranger was a good friend of mine, maybe even more than a friend. I knew why I pressed my lips gently against his. I had wanted to feel them against mine as soon as he took my hand. What startled me was that he kissed me back. Once more, hesitant and uncertain of what to do as if he had never kissed before. I believed that to be true. My hands dropped from his neck to his chest as he drew me close. Though our lips parted we did not move away from each other. There was comfort in the way he held his hands against my back, securely as if he was afraid to let me go.
"Will I see you again?" I asked, brushing the bridge of my nose against his jaw line.
"Yes," he answered softly. He took my hand with the stone it in and kissed my knuckles gently. I remembered the feel of a hobo's teeth cutting into the skin and I was unsure why that memory came unbidden to me now. His lips were nothing like those teeth.
I woke up, Hermione kneeding my thigh with her tiny paws and a stone pressed into the palm of my hand. When I looked at it, I was shocked to see that it wasn't black, but white.