What Dreams May Come

On January 20th, 1692, eleven year old Abigail Williams and nine year old Elizabeth Parris began to behave in a peculiar fashion; screaming, throwing things, babbling incoherently, crawling under the furniture, and contorting their bodies in unnatural manners. Soon after, a handful of other girls in the village began to behave in a similar fashion.

In mid February of that same year, a doctor examined the girls and proclaimed that the symptoms were "beyond the power of Epileptic Fits or natural disease to effect," and suggests that witchcraft may be involved.

The minister, Reverend Samuel Parris, father and uncle to the first two girls afflicted, along with several of the townsfolk, pressured the girls to tell them who was using magic to attack them. Under the pressure, Elizabeth identified West Indie Slave, Tituba. Soon after, two other women, Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne, were also implicated.

Over the first week of March, two of the areas Magistrates, John Hathorne and Johnathan Corwin, began to interrogate the three women. Soon more women were accused, and the hysteria began in earnest.

Salem, Massachusetts, March, 1692

A single candle illuminated the small cabin on the outskirts of Salem village as the midnight hour quickly approached. The young man was exhausted, but refused to sleep. A single tear slid down his cheek as he ran the damp wash cloth over his father's worn face. The older man hadn't moved in hours, and the boy feared he was dying.

A quiet knock on the door startled him, and with great trepidation, he opened it a fraction, peering warily out at the late night visitors. A sigh of relief escaped him as he opened the door a bit wider and hastily bid his guests to enter.

"Goody Anderson," he whispered, fear keeping his voice low. "You should not have come. It is dangerous times we live in. If you were caught..."

"Shh, it is alright, Josiah. I have taken every precaution. How fares your father?"

The teen's shoulders slumped. "Not well. I fear it may be too late. I do not have the talent for healing as you do."

The woman embraced him for a moment. "We all have our own gifts. Yours lay in music and coaxing plants to grow. William's gifts lay more in emotion." She indicated the young man who accompanied her.

Josiah smiled shyly at the shorter boy, who smiled kindly in return. Goody Anderson moved to the bed and studied the form laying there.

"William, why don't you make a cup of tea for Josiah while I see what I can do for his father?"

"Yes, Mother." The dark haired boy lead Josiah to the table and sat him down, before heating the water. The older boy watched as William took several items from his traveling pouch; herbs, an amethyst stone, and a small piece of bark. He placed the items into a cloth, wrapping them tightly and placing them in the pot, allowing the tea to steep.

He added a few drops of honey before setting a cup in front of the taller boy. He smiled again, and Josiah thought he had the kindest eyes he had ever seen. He took a sip of the tea, noting the flavors of mint and lavender, along with something he did not recognize. He assumed this was the bark.

"Why did you add the amethyst stone?" He asked absently as he watched Goody Anderson placing a similar stone on his father's forehead.

William glanced back up at him. "Amethyst has protective qualities, and can also help balance your emotions. It can help you think more clearly."

The boys watched as Goody Anderson added more gemstones to his father's body. "Garnet helps with healing," William explained as the woman placed the orangish stone on the older man's heart.

A black stone with flecks of red in it was placed on the pulse in the man's throat. "Bloodstone brings energy and helps with blood flow." Josiah listened to the other boy, mesmerized as much by the voice as by the sight of his father's breathing becoming steadier, deeper.

A dark yellow gem was placed on the inside of the left wrist. "Calcite cleanses the body, and helps with healing."

Josiah had known the uses of certain gems; green calcite helped his crops to grow, while citrine also added vitality. His mother, Constance Whitaker, had begun to teach him in the ways of the Craft when he was quite young, but had died when he was eight when an influenza epidemic had hit England.

His father, Jacob, had known what Constance had been, but had loved her without judgment. More than a year after her death, he had moved his son here, to Salem, at Constance's request, telling him that Josiah would find others to guide him in the ways of the Craft, to teach him to harness his powers, and to use them for good. His mother and Goody Anderson had been distantly related.

They knew it was dangerous. They understood what would happen if they were exposed. Goody Anderson and a couple of older woman in the village had taken the boy under their wings, and had taught him what they could, though caution meant that his lessons were sporadic, and he was well behind the level of knowledge that William possessed.

The two boys had very little interaction over the last few years. The Andersons lived in Salem Township proper, and William's father, Nathaniel was one of the Magistrates. Josiah and his father were simple farmers, living on the outskirts of Salem village. Josiah had always been shy by nature, and had little interaction with any of the villagers outside his instructors.

When the first whispers of witchcraft had begun to spread a few weeks ago, Josiah had felt the fear creeping up on him. When Goody Good, one of his teachers in the Craft, had been accused, he worried that she may implicate him, or one of the others, to save herself. He became more withdrawn than usual.

But none of that fear compared to what he had felt when his father had collapsed that morning. As Goody Anderson began to chant, she held a crystal on a chain over his father's body.

"Fuchsite, the Healer's stone. She's using it to amplify her abilities, to concentrate them and send them into your father." Josiah was stunned when the younger boy reached over and took his hand. "Your father will be alright."

Josiah looked over, and found himself ensnared by golden colored eyes.

…

Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where a dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree

…

Lima, Ohio, October, 2010

Kurt woke slowly, trying to cling to the memories of the dream, but they faded from his mind as his eyes opened Monday morning. He reached out his hand and shut off the alarm clock, groaning as he sat up. His back was stiff and sore, the bruises from Friday protesting the movement. The weekend's reprieve hadn't been long enough for them to heal.

He really did not want to go to school today, but if he didn't, his dad would be suspicious. He got up and showered, the heat relaxing his muscles. He washed his hair, and rinsed off, then stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself. He stepped in front of the mirror and studied himself.

Storm surge eyes seemed a bit wider than usual, and his skin seemed to be a bit paler, but other than that, he looked just as he always had. He had almost expected not to recognize himself. He didn't feel the same as he had a few years ago. The constant stream of verbal abuse, the locker shoves, the slushie facials, it all wore on him, breaking him down a little more each day.

The only bright spot in his life was Glee. The New Directions were his friends, his family, and they tried to support him the best they could, but they just didn't understand him. Didn't understand how completely and utterly alone he was. The music helped, though. It lifted his soul when nothing else could.

He finished getting ready, moisturizing, getting dressed, and doing his hair. The last thing he put on was a bracelet that had beads made from semi precious gemstones; amethyst, tiger eye, agate, amazonite, clear quartz, rose quartz, and rhodochrosite. He wasn't sure why he had let Tina talk him into buying it Saturday when they had gone to a street fair. She had dragged him to the stall selling spiritualistic items, and the older woman running it had explained what each of the gemstones represented.

Kurt hadn't really believed in the mystical properties of the stones, but the moment he had touched the stones, he had felt a sense of peace, of rightness settle over him. Tina had insisted he needed it. He hated to admit that she might be right, but had purchased it anyway.

He slipped it on, and once again felt that aura of peace settle over him. Maybe there was something mystical about the stones after all, but he still wasn't ready to believe fully.

He went upstairs for breakfast, and smiled at his dad, who was drinking a cup of decaf while reading his newspaper. "Morning, Dad. You want an egg white omelet?"

Burt looked up at him, and grinned. "Morning, kiddo. No thanks. I'm picking Carole up and driving her to work this morning, and she is bringing me a breakfast wrap. And before you ask, she assured me that it is on my Kurt Approved diet."

Kurt smiled. "Okay, then I guess I'll just get something from The Lima Bean on my way to school."

He hugged his dad, and kissed his cheek before grabbing his bag and keys and heading out.

Forty-five minutes later, grande nonfat mocha and breakfast sandwich in hand, he slipped into his first class of the day, American History, and pulled out the folder with his presentation that was due that day. He'd worked hard researching his topic, and had been fascinated by what he had learned, but now had to wonder if perhaps it had contributed to his peculiar feeling lately. He finished eating as he reviewed his materials, and didn't notice when the teacher came in and the other students took their seats until Mrs. Simmons called on him.

"Mr. Hummel? Are you ready to give your presentation?"

He looked up, surprised that he'd been so absorbed in his notes he hadn't realized class had started. He gathered up his file and moved to the front of the room. As he glanced around, Brittany smiled serenely at him. He smiled at her and began to speak.

"Uh, my presentation is on the Salem Witch trials of 1692 and 1693. Most people know about the nineteen people who were hung, and of Giles Corey, who was pressed to death, but recently evidence has come to light that says that there were more victims that were previously unknown."

He cleared his throat before he continued. "A diary from one of the villagers has been discovered that seems to imply that one of the Magistrates' may have destroyed court papers and other evidence that his own wife had been one of the accused, and that she had been found guilty and was hung early on during the mass hysteria. They also mention an unnamed young man who was also hanged near the end of the trials. The diary also says that the Magistrate's own son disappeared mysterious on the same day the boy was hanged."

He glanced around again, and cleared his throat once more. "The passage from the diary states, 'and William, son of the Magistrate, Nathaniel Anderson, did disappear in a flash of light, along with the accursed tree.'"

He smiled nervously. "Of course, we all know that witchcraft isn't real, and the boy probably ran away while the villagers were distracted. Anyway, whether this new evidence is true or not, there are many unanswered questions of what had caused the chaos in that region at the time. A common theory was that the girls at the center of the trials had eaten bread contaminated by Claviceps purpurea, the substance that LSD is derived from.

"Another theory states that the accusations were made out of jealousy and spite. This theory seems to be supported by the fact that most of those accused were women with questionable reputations, and often the accusers had some previous disputes with the accused."

As he finished his presentation, he noticed Brittany absently tracing an unusual pattern in her notebook, her eyes seemed clouded over, almost as if she were in a trance. She blinked, and the look disappeared, and she smiled at him as he took his seat. Had he imagined it? Brittany often had a vague expression, but this seemed even stranger than usual. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Kurt turned his attention to the next person to give their presentation, and soon forgot about the strange phenomenon.

…

In a darkened cellar several miles away, the coven leader opened his eyes and looked out at his followers from the center of the protective circle. "He is as yet unaware of his legacy, though he is beginning to question his reality. He is wearing the bracelet. The awakening is coming."

The coven members murmured excitedly among themselves.

…

Somewhere in the middle of an unexplored wilderness, May, 1693

The young man formerly known as William Anderson lay beneath the tree, staring up at the boy still hanging from it's branches, exhaustion keeping him from moving. He'd expended so much power with his display of Magic. And now his grief drained any energy he'd had left, tears dripping from his face.

As he watched, a tiny yellow bird settled on the branch above his beloved. The bird began to sing. It's song soothed him, and after a time, he pulled himself up. The bird continued to sing as he shakily gained his feet, and did not fly away as he approached, nor when he cut the rope keeping his lover suspended.

He carefully lay the body out on the ground where he had lain. The bird continued to sing as he went to the small creek nearby, where he ripped off a piece of his shirt and soaked it in the water. He then returned and carefully cleaned the body, and straitened the boy's clothes, before gathering some dead wood to build a funeral pyre.

The bird's song continued through out the day as he watched the flames consume the shell of the man he loved. Only when nothing more than ashes remained did the song end, and the bird flew away.

…

A/N I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story! Thank you for the reviews, the follows and the likes! If you are interested in learning the meanings behind the various stones on Kurt's bracelet, you can go to;

w ww. Energymu se abo ut-gemstones

(Remove the spaces)