Penelope Dreams
By: Kate Goggins
As night was in the midst of it's temporary stay, Penelope woke, startled by the sight of her newly restored husband. She blinked away the drowsiness from her eyes and carefully removed her body from the grasp of her husband's firm, but gentle hands. Penelope padded softly to her window, looking out over the pastures and the small dirt road used for carrying supplies in and out of the kitchen. However, it was not food or fabric being shipped in by the servants wise enough to remain loyal to her husband and avoid his storm of anger that had showered upon their home only hours before; no, cold, lifeless bodies of the men that had previously been praising her were being carted out. Penelope averted her eyes from the dark stains and loose limbs, and gazed upon one of the few who had lived through twenty years of agony and loss.
What pictures and movements were being played before calm Odysseus' eyes that moment? Penelope gazed at her husband, recalling the dreams they had once shared with each other; dreams that they had always replayed for each other and laughed upon. It had always been a dream between Penelope and Odysseus that they should raise their only son to be as his father: strong, intelligent and brave. Had Penelope done her job? She certainly did not have Odysseus' help for the majority of Telemachus' life, so it had been up to her to prepare Telemachus for future confrontation. Penelope recalled the events of several hours ago.
Telemachus and Odysseus had a plan before their massacre. Together, they thought out every possible aspect and situation that would or could be apparent. And together, they were successful. Telemachus discussed his initial conflict with the suitors in a large meeting. Her son had the courage to face a crowd of men that despised him, lusted after his goods and possessed the strength to overcome almost anything together. He had the voice to call together a crew in one evening and leave to search for the truth. He had the eyes to come to his father's rescue when needed. Telemachus had changed. Had it been Penelope? Who else could have taught him these things?
As these thoughts burned in her mind, Penelope closed her eyes; these thoughts were causing a painful pressure in her head. As fast as one responds to the touch of a burning stone, Penelope was transported to her son's room. He was peacefully resting, a slight smile playing on his lips. Penelope was startled at the sight of a young girl standing beside her son's bed. The girl bore a long, flowing white dress. It glowed, as if there were stars pulled down from the heavens by Zeus himself, sewn into the seams. The girl's eyes were as two sparks, never flickering or dying out. Penelope was astonished to see someone in complete darkness like this, with every detail still visible and vivid.
Before Penelope could utter a word, the girl looked up at her and smiled. The smile reminded Penelope of a mother, as if this girl had seen every important moment of the universes being, observing, knowing and understanding all; as if she was a god.
And, as if she had been reading Penelope's mind, the girl said "Wonder about his life no longer. I am here for you to understand. You have provided and supported your son long enough. Do you not see the qualities, though, that reflect my work? Do you not see that I strove to lead him to his glorious feats? Your son has become a man, that is sure, and you had set him up for my work. Your task is no longer to guide him to manhood, but it is to care for him and your husband. See that they receive the love and respect they deserve, and keep them from harm's twisted path. Until next time Penelope…"
As quickly as Penelope had arrived in her son's room, she woke in her own. She opened her eyes, finding herself to be slumped on the floor underneath her window. Penelope gathered herself and rose from the coldness of the marble floor. Athena had revealed the truth to Penelope, and the truth is what Penelope had needed. Penelope had been naïve to the obvious. She saw now that the gods respected the house of Laertes, and the men of the house had been blessed with the wisdom and guidance of Athena herself. And when one man had been gone, leaving a wife and son, the gods were beside Penelope to lead her son to the victories and glory he deserved.
Penelope turned back to her still-slumbering husband. As his facial expression changed as he turned on his side, Penelope was reminded of her anguish that had lasted twenty years. Her son was not the only one who lost something they needed to get by in life. Penelope herself had lost a lover, a best friend and an inspiration. The worst part was her belief that he would not return. After the first few years she began to believe he might have died. After ten years, others told her that was his fate, and by four years later, Penelope honestly believed she had lost him forever. Not that he died, but that he had wandered and traveled, disregarding his past in Ithaca. Penelope had fallen victim to a plague of consummation in her own house. She had lost her love and her power. She had thought she had lost her own son, taken over by the determination his own father possessed. The thought that her past had been restored by the return of one man brought a smile to Penelope's face.
As Penelope nestled her body into her husband's arms, she came to realize a change in her beliefs. Penelope now knew that she could not lose hope in something that she truly loved. Because one loss had befallen her did not mean every potentially bad situation would also rise and destroy her life. Life was restored to its original splendor. Penelope was blessed with a happy ending. As these last happy thoughts blended into a swirl of drowsiness, Penelope was thankful, and fell victim to Sleep's firm grasp.
By: Kate Goggins
As night was in the midst of it's temporary stay, Penelope woke, startled by the sight of her newly restored husband. She blinked away the drowsiness from her eyes and carefully removed her body from the grasp of her husband's firm, but gentle hands. Penelope padded softly to her window, looking out over the pastures and the small dirt road used for carrying supplies in and out of the kitchen. However, it was not food or fabric being shipped in by the servants wise enough to remain loyal to her husband and avoid his storm of anger that had showered upon their home only hours before; no, cold, lifeless bodies of the men that had previously been praising her were being carted out. Penelope averted her eyes from the dark stains and loose limbs, and gazed upon one of the few who had lived through twenty years of agony and loss.
What pictures and movements were being played before calm Odysseus' eyes that moment? Penelope gazed at her husband, recalling the dreams they had once shared with each other; dreams that they had always replayed for each other and laughed upon. It had always been a dream between Penelope and Odysseus that they should raise their only son to be as his father: strong, intelligent and brave. Had Penelope done her job? She certainly did not have Odysseus' help for the majority of Telemachus' life, so it had been up to her to prepare Telemachus for future confrontation. Penelope recalled the events of several hours ago.
Telemachus and Odysseus had a plan before their massacre. Together, they thought out every possible aspect and situation that would or could be apparent. And together, they were successful. Telemachus discussed his initial conflict with the suitors in a large meeting. Her son had the courage to face a crowd of men that despised him, lusted after his goods and possessed the strength to overcome almost anything together. He had the voice to call together a crew in one evening and leave to search for the truth. He had the eyes to come to his father's rescue when needed. Telemachus had changed. Had it been Penelope? Who else could have taught him these things?
As these thoughts burned in her mind, Penelope closed her eyes; these thoughts were causing a painful pressure in her head. As fast as one responds to the touch of a burning stone, Penelope was transported to her son's room. He was peacefully resting, a slight smile playing on his lips. Penelope was startled at the sight of a young girl standing beside her son's bed. The girl bore a long, flowing white dress. It glowed, as if there were stars pulled down from the heavens by Zeus himself, sewn into the seams. The girl's eyes were as two sparks, never flickering or dying out. Penelope was astonished to see someone in complete darkness like this, with every detail still visible and vivid.
Before Penelope could utter a word, the girl looked up at her and smiled. The smile reminded Penelope of a mother, as if this girl had seen every important moment of the universes being, observing, knowing and understanding all; as if she was a god.
And, as if she had been reading Penelope's mind, the girl said "Wonder about his life no longer. I am here for you to understand. You have provided and supported your son long enough. Do you not see the qualities, though, that reflect my work? Do you not see that I strove to lead him to his glorious feats? Your son has become a man, that is sure, and you had set him up for my work. Your task is no longer to guide him to manhood, but it is to care for him and your husband. See that they receive the love and respect they deserve, and keep them from harm's twisted path. Until next time Penelope…"
As quickly as Penelope had arrived in her son's room, she woke in her own. She opened her eyes, finding herself to be slumped on the floor underneath her window. Penelope gathered herself and rose from the coldness of the marble floor. Athena had revealed the truth to Penelope, and the truth is what Penelope had needed. Penelope had been naïve to the obvious. She saw now that the gods respected the house of Laertes, and the men of the house had been blessed with the wisdom and guidance of Athena herself. And when one man had been gone, leaving a wife and son, the gods were beside Penelope to lead her son to the victories and glory he deserved.
Penelope turned back to her still-slumbering husband. As his facial expression changed as he turned on his side, Penelope was reminded of her anguish that had lasted twenty years. Her son was not the only one who lost something they needed to get by in life. Penelope herself had lost a lover, a best friend and an inspiration. The worst part was her belief that he would not return. After the first few years she began to believe he might have died. After ten years, others told her that was his fate, and by four years later, Penelope honestly believed she had lost him forever. Not that he died, but that he had wandered and traveled, disregarding his past in Ithaca. Penelope had fallen victim to a plague of consummation in her own house. She had lost her love and her power. She had thought she had lost her own son, taken over by the determination his own father possessed. The thought that her past had been restored by the return of one man brought a smile to Penelope's face.
As Penelope nestled her body into her husband's arms, she came to realize a change in her beliefs. Penelope now knew that she could not lose hope in something that she truly loved. Because one loss had befallen her did not mean every potentially bad situation would also rise and destroy her life. Life was restored to its original splendor. Penelope was blessed with a happy ending. As these last happy thoughts blended into a swirl of drowsiness, Penelope was thankful, and fell victim to Sleep's firm grasp.