(Sheesh, the kind of ideas you get when you're on your way to work!)
This is a "What if" tale:
What if your life were another's dream, another whose life you wondered about and when it came time to step off this mortal coil, you stepped into the life you dreamed of?
I sat up suddenly in bed, gulping air, my heart pounding and my forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat.
This was the worst dream yet.
I carefully pulled strands of my hair out from under my husband's shoulder and then rubbed my aching head. He murmured in his sleep and flung an arm across my lap, his fingers reflexively grasping my hip.
But he slept on, wrapped in his own, I hoped, peaceful dreams.
Staring out into the bedroom, I could see through the hanging bed curtains, the open door to the terrace. The gossamer curtains swayed in a light breeze, the moon sinking in the west behind the high edge of the gorge. A light touch of jasmine filled the air.
What could be wrong? Why was I having these extremely intense dreams that left me terrified, sometimes exhausted, my face covered with tears? They were coming more and more frequently, and tonight, the dream had made my heart speed up terribly fast, and then, it felt almost as if it had stopped for a moment. I was amazed that my husband did not hear it, even in sleep.
Granted, sometimes these dreams gave me a happy feeling, but I usually ascribed that feeling to something I couldn't remember, something funny or charming someone in my family had done, or some happy memory surfacing.
I turned to look at my husband's face, his mouth slightly open as if in surprise, his eyes in their characteristically half-open position, a pearl of moonlight caught in each. His long dark hair lay spread over his shoulders and fanned across the pillow towards me. I bent and kissed him lightly on the forehead and slipped from his embrace and walked towards the terrace. I needed to think and lying next to him was a distraction.
The cool air was pleasant and tangled my thin chemise against my legs. I sat at one of the cushioned chairs that looked out over several of the gardens and leaned on my elbows, staring sightlessly at the stone balustrade.
Taking a deep breath, I confronted the images my fertile mind had been displaying for me and tried to decipher them. I was my mother's daughter; I should be able to interpret these dreams without resorting to any help from the Lady of the Golden Wood.
They were vivid images of another's life. Another woman, who looked nothing like me. I was almost certain that she was human! And I have known so few human women in my long life, I would think I would be able to recall where I had seen this woman's face.
She lived a life I could not fathom. Places, buildings and ...objects, machineries perhaps? That I have never seen nor heard of and would swear to Iluvatar that existed no where here in Middle Earth. The dreams showed me some of her daily life, working I suppose, meeting with friends, eating meals in an environment of which I had no context: light without candles, travel without horses, moving paintings, house upon house, as if her whole world was as busy and crowded as Minas Tirith! And so many kinds of faces and shapes, and the most unusual clothes. The woman frequently dressed like a ranger or archer, long tunics and trews. Dresses of various lengths, it was all dizzying.
But what did all these images mean? Was it just the panorama of one person's life? Why was I specifically seeing these bizarre images?
The woman did, however have an adorable daughter, of whom she loved with all her heart. Much like my Arwen, but much much younger, only a few years in human age, blond and brown eyed, lively and sweet.
The woman was frequently consumed by a deep longing, to be...elsewhere, for lack of a better word. Reading small books or watching the moving paintings (Absurd idea!) seemed to affect her the easiest. She struck me as very lonely, even though surrounded by loved ones. I think I have even dreamed HER dreams! Of men and places even more fantastical than the fabled halls of the Valar!
I covered my face with my hands again. But this last dream, oh this last dream was the most unsettling, frightening one of all.
She lay on the ground, the sun was so hot and she could not get her breath. Humans walked right by and ignored her distress! Finally some men came and carried her off in one the unusual carriages I had seen before. They were trying to help her, healers like my husband, I suppose. But using things for which again, I had no reference.
But, but the woman died, despite their efforts! Such a sharp wrenching pain, a flash of unfathomable darkness, and I woke up, Thank Elbereth!
I stood, my blood pounding just thinking of it again and I went to the balustrade and leaned on it to take deep breaths.
A whisper of cloth, and I found a strong arm around my middle, warm breath behind my left ear and a soft kiss. Pulled back against the warm length of my husband, I turned and put my arms around him. I nestled my head on his shoulders while he silently rubbed my back.
Slowly my heart's racing dropped to normal and I sighed, relaxing under his knowing hands.
"Those dreams again, my heart?'
"Yes." I buried my face against his chest feeling uncharacteristically weak. I said against the warm silk against my face. "Oh Elrond, the woman in my dreams died tonight! Just as I awoke!" His hand moved up to my neck and gently began kneading the stiffness away. "Poor thing!" I whispered. "She was not a very happy soul."
"Do you think she is now?"
I looked up into the loving, ageless eyes of my beloved, his beautiful face catching the last light of the sinking moon, his eyes looking down into mine full of wisdom and compassion. He bent and feathered my mouth with a light kiss and drew away with a smile.
"I hope so! Perhaps now, she will leave me in peace!"
"We can hope she gone on to a better place, a better life then."
I sighed, feeling as if I could sleep again. I yawned and smiled as my husband turned me, tucking me under his arm and we went back to the canopied bed.
"I know of no better place than this my love."
He helped me into bed, threw the cover over us both and snuggled down, my back to his front.
I repeated sleepily as he kissed my neck softly one more time. "I know no better life than this."
This is a "What if" tale:
What if your life were another's dream, another whose life you wondered about and when it came time to step off this mortal coil, you stepped into the life you dreamed of?
I sat up suddenly in bed, gulping air, my heart pounding and my forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat.
This was the worst dream yet.
I carefully pulled strands of my hair out from under my husband's shoulder and then rubbed my aching head. He murmured in his sleep and flung an arm across my lap, his fingers reflexively grasping my hip.
But he slept on, wrapped in his own, I hoped, peaceful dreams.
Staring out into the bedroom, I could see through the hanging bed curtains, the open door to the terrace. The gossamer curtains swayed in a light breeze, the moon sinking in the west behind the high edge of the gorge. A light touch of jasmine filled the air.
What could be wrong? Why was I having these extremely intense dreams that left me terrified, sometimes exhausted, my face covered with tears? They were coming more and more frequently, and tonight, the dream had made my heart speed up terribly fast, and then, it felt almost as if it had stopped for a moment. I was amazed that my husband did not hear it, even in sleep.
Granted, sometimes these dreams gave me a happy feeling, but I usually ascribed that feeling to something I couldn't remember, something funny or charming someone in my family had done, or some happy memory surfacing.
I turned to look at my husband's face, his mouth slightly open as if in surprise, his eyes in their characteristically half-open position, a pearl of moonlight caught in each. His long dark hair lay spread over his shoulders and fanned across the pillow towards me. I bent and kissed him lightly on the forehead and slipped from his embrace and walked towards the terrace. I needed to think and lying next to him was a distraction.
The cool air was pleasant and tangled my thin chemise against my legs. I sat at one of the cushioned chairs that looked out over several of the gardens and leaned on my elbows, staring sightlessly at the stone balustrade.
Taking a deep breath, I confronted the images my fertile mind had been displaying for me and tried to decipher them. I was my mother's daughter; I should be able to interpret these dreams without resorting to any help from the Lady of the Golden Wood.
They were vivid images of another's life. Another woman, who looked nothing like me. I was almost certain that she was human! And I have known so few human women in my long life, I would think I would be able to recall where I had seen this woman's face.
She lived a life I could not fathom. Places, buildings and ...objects, machineries perhaps? That I have never seen nor heard of and would swear to Iluvatar that existed no where here in Middle Earth. The dreams showed me some of her daily life, working I suppose, meeting with friends, eating meals in an environment of which I had no context: light without candles, travel without horses, moving paintings, house upon house, as if her whole world was as busy and crowded as Minas Tirith! And so many kinds of faces and shapes, and the most unusual clothes. The woman frequently dressed like a ranger or archer, long tunics and trews. Dresses of various lengths, it was all dizzying.
But what did all these images mean? Was it just the panorama of one person's life? Why was I specifically seeing these bizarre images?
The woman did, however have an adorable daughter, of whom she loved with all her heart. Much like my Arwen, but much much younger, only a few years in human age, blond and brown eyed, lively and sweet.
The woman was frequently consumed by a deep longing, to be...elsewhere, for lack of a better word. Reading small books or watching the moving paintings (Absurd idea!) seemed to affect her the easiest. She struck me as very lonely, even though surrounded by loved ones. I think I have even dreamed HER dreams! Of men and places even more fantastical than the fabled halls of the Valar!
I covered my face with my hands again. But this last dream, oh this last dream was the most unsettling, frightening one of all.
She lay on the ground, the sun was so hot and she could not get her breath. Humans walked right by and ignored her distress! Finally some men came and carried her off in one the unusual carriages I had seen before. They were trying to help her, healers like my husband, I suppose. But using things for which again, I had no reference.
But, but the woman died, despite their efforts! Such a sharp wrenching pain, a flash of unfathomable darkness, and I woke up, Thank Elbereth!
I stood, my blood pounding just thinking of it again and I went to the balustrade and leaned on it to take deep breaths.
A whisper of cloth, and I found a strong arm around my middle, warm breath behind my left ear and a soft kiss. Pulled back against the warm length of my husband, I turned and put my arms around him. I nestled my head on his shoulders while he silently rubbed my back.
Slowly my heart's racing dropped to normal and I sighed, relaxing under his knowing hands.
"Those dreams again, my heart?'
"Yes." I buried my face against his chest feeling uncharacteristically weak. I said against the warm silk against my face. "Oh Elrond, the woman in my dreams died tonight! Just as I awoke!" His hand moved up to my neck and gently began kneading the stiffness away. "Poor thing!" I whispered. "She was not a very happy soul."
"Do you think she is now?"
I looked up into the loving, ageless eyes of my beloved, his beautiful face catching the last light of the sinking moon, his eyes looking down into mine full of wisdom and compassion. He bent and feathered my mouth with a light kiss and drew away with a smile.
"I hope so! Perhaps now, she will leave me in peace!"
"We can hope she gone on to a better place, a better life then."
I sighed, feeling as if I could sleep again. I yawned and smiled as my husband turned me, tucking me under his arm and we went back to the canopied bed.
"I know of no better place than this my love."
He helped me into bed, threw the cover over us both and snuggled down, my back to his front.
I repeated sleepily as he kissed my neck softly one more time. "I know no better life than this."