Curious Dreams

To dream and feel more alive than ever, that was the gift I’d gained—and lost.

~ Amanda Powers

Saturday, May 9, 2009

After climbing into the car, Aerrvin reverted to his usual six-inch self.

“Bronwyn, please let me out. I want to dance a little longer.”

It should be common knowledge that Fairies love to dance and sing the night away. Even in the busy city, right from the car, one could witness several groups cavorting in the rain. Jaera had been joining in that fun for the past wee bit and drinking way too much soda for her own good; she would not awaken until Sunday at the earliest. Even if he refused to admit it, Gareth was hopelessly devoted to the Green Fairy. Not that Aerrvin wanted company. Bronwyn rolled down the window, allowing Aerrvin to flit away.

Tap-tap-tapping on the bedroom window pane, Aerrvin startled Sylvie as she gently danced about dusting the window casing.

Sylvie opened it a crack and whispered, “I’m busy here. What do you want?”

“I want to come in.” Aerrvin added his winning smile for leverage.

The smile did not sway Sylvie. “You were here already, the party is over and don’t you be waking my person!”

Beyond him, she caught a nod from one of the guardians of the house hovering in the tree. This approval gave Sylvie permission to let him enter.

“Fine, you may sit on the bedpost. I am cleaning, and I shan’t have Fairy Dust to clean up as well!”

“Feisty! Now I know why Seamus went about humming in my ear the rest of the evening.”

His comment sent the fair Brownie maiden into a flurry of dusting. Aerrvin scanned the room, and it did not disappoint. “P’raps I shoulda set up an interior design comp’ny—Humans have a lot o’ textiles and furnishings, which do excite me senses,” he mused aloud, forgetting his diction. His fascination with texture was legendary in the Fairy world. “I dare say, this wee laddie could even improve a few things here.”

His comment brought a “Humph!” from Sylvie.

Aerrvin danced a little jig when he discovered, decked out as he was, that Mara did not hate lace. He wore purple silk pants, and a spider-web silk shirt, with lace spilling down his chest as well as from the extra-long cuffs he preferred. Over this, he sported a black velvet brocade jacket with tails down to his knees, accented with a lace hankie peeking from the pocket.

Perched on the foot of her bed, the Fairy Prince admired Mara in her ruffled white nightgown, with her midnight curls cascading onto the lace-trimmed pillowcase. The room seemed to be white on white with possible pale pink touches throughout; it was hard, even with Fairy eyes, to distinguish soft colors in the dark without being right on them. So he flew about to make sure; yes, those were pink ribbons on the lacy curtains, and the satin pillows were a soft pink striped with yellow. The carpet breathed a pale yellow as well. The coverlet has three rows of ruffles and lace!

“Delightful! You do an excellent job here, Sylvie. The linens are so white and crisp they absolutely glow, and the other levels are quite professional.”

Unseen to her eyes, Sylvie glowed for a moment, herself. “Why thank you. We do our best. Mara’s family has always been very good to us.”

“Tell me about her and her family.” He faced Sylvie as she went to the dresser to straighten the knick-knacks and perfume bottles.

“I already told Seamus,” Sylvie said.

“Sure ’n’ p’raps he didn’t ask the right questions. Humor me.”

“And who are you to be asking me, to tell you about my Human’s secrets at all?” she huffed, knocking over a perfume bottle.

Mara stirred and curled up into a ball on her side, facing the dresser. Carefully straightening the bottle, Sylvie stood with hands on hips awaiting a good reason.

Aerrvin flitted over to sit next to the Brownie on top of an old stuffed toy tiger; surprisingly soft, and it smelled—like Mara, he thought and inhaled deeper.

“I will tell you who I am. I am Aerrvin ap Rosewin, son of her Royal Highness the Fair Queen Laurel ap Rose herself! Moreover, I intend to have Mara as my Queen. I have been instructed to create my own Kingdom here in America, by her Highness, and I have chosen the Pacific Northwest as the center of my own Grand Council. All Fairy Rings will send a representative to me every twenty years. Does that tell you who I am?”

The fretful Brownie bowed as low as possible, and begged forgiveness, “Seamus did not tell me, Your Highness, he only said you were his master.”

“Very well, continue with your duties, Sylvie, and tell me about this dear creature.” He eyed Mara speculatively. She seemed to almost gleam in the pale light from the backyard.

“I am a wee thing, only fifty years old. Mara is my first assignment, you see, which I received by accidentally allowing her to see me. And then, bless me, I spoke to her.” Sylvie cringed knowing what was coming.

“What? How could you do such a thing?” Then more calmly he mused, “She believes in Brownies?” With his hopes rising, he caressed Mara with his gaze. Remembering the feel of her in his arms as they danced, his fingers itched to touch her once again.

“Well, sire, yes and no,” Sylvie replied as she scrambled up on top of the mirror to remove the dust. “It happened when she was a wee babe of three; she lost her Growly.”

Sylvie nodded toward the tiger, where he lounged. “Her Aunt Lily and Uncle Rupert had this room; since it was their house. As it was, her bedroom was across the hall. There are two rooms over there; her parents slept in the first, and she slept in the second, at the front of the house. They were visiting–-as they often did each June. Mara played all through the house, causing all kinds of messes. She mislaid her Growly, and when bedtime arrived, she howled on end. The sound irritated my ears. And—I found myself behind in my duties, you see; because she created so much extra work with all of her disorder. You must remember, Your Highness, I was very young, only twenty-nine!”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Cringing again at her confession, she continued, “I retrieved her Growly and gave it to her, telling her she needed to be more responsible. I advised her always to pick up after herself, as she was causing me extra work,” Sylvie ended with a sob. By now she was kneeling before Aerrvin again. Her light brown hair fell forward, covering her shame.

“Stand up, Sylvie. I am not an Ogre. I have made plenty of mistakes as a youngling myself.” Smiling to prove he was not condemning her, he begged, “Continue with the story, please.”

“As you wish. A few nights later, my sweet girl lay awake when I came in to clean, and she asked me my name. I told her it was Celery. She couldn’t say it right, so—she renamed me: Sylvie. And that is how I came to be her personal servant; she named me. Even though I didn’t mean for it to happen, I am happy to serve her. She is a spectacular girl and—I think you might even be worthy of her,” she finished with a squeak as Aerrvin threw a cotton ball at her.

“Very well, you may leave us. I will speak with you again by and by.” Aerrvin remained where he was. Yes, this is a girl I want to know.

****

Mara awoke well rested and happy.

“What a curious dream,” she whispered.

Closing her eyes, she reviewed what she could recall. Sylvie was there from her childhood fantasies. She remembered thinking of her as she went to bed. And, well obviously, Mara thought of Aerrvin. In her dream, she heard them talking, but not much of what they said. Sylvie flitted about as she always did. She always did? Mara questioned.

She tugged at her ear as she verbalized the dream, “Hm, so after Sylvie straightened the room, she left. Aerrvin came and sat on my pillow. In an instant, I was barely five inches tall and dancing in the air with Aerrvin, the fairy prince.” Mara opened her eyes to verify reality and then closed them once again. “The dancing seemed to last till dawn, then we stopped and watched the sunrise, sitting on the rooftop of the house. Not that there was much to see, it’s overcast and drizzling.” She sighed, noticing how real it all appeared even as a memory.

“No, it didn’t actually happen,” Mara chided.

Giving her Growly a squeeze and a kiss, and then picking up a cotton ball on the floor, she went off to prepare for a new day.

“Good morning, Bright Eyes!” Jill called as Mara came into the kitchen for breakfast.

She’d slept later than usual; it was ten o’clock. Jill had cleared the buffet, having set all the trash by the door. “No telling how much the Brownies ate,” she whispered. Trying to think of something else to say she shook her head before giving up. Jill hardly ever listened to what Mara mumbled anyway.

“I’m so glad you trained our neighbors to respect your home; it is always such a joy to clean up after a party.” Jill handed Mara a bowl of oatmeal. “Sorry, we are still out of milk. I didn’t buy any yesterday because I needed room in the fridge for all the fruit. I am going out soon though. Anything you want on here?” she asked, handing Mara a paper with “Jill’s To Do List” neatly printed on top.

“No, it’s all good, but maybe you should get two jugs of milk instead of one.”

“Ha, if you would stop leaving your uneaten midnight snacks sitting out all night, maybe it would go further.”

Mara’s habit of filling a plate full of cookies and pouring a large mug of milk to watch late night TV, and then leaving them on the end table annoyed her mother when she was a child. Her mother scolded her often; now Jill had taken over.

“You know, you could use a smaller mug instead of this monstrosity. Then you wouldn’t waste so much,” Jill said putting it away.

“But I love that mug! Just buy more milk. If we’re getting low on money I can always sell another chair or something,” Mara said with a shrug. It had been a mug her father used for his own midnight snacks. Mara pushed aside her emotions about losing him and focused on her love for the mug.

Jill rolled her eyes. “If only I had your money, child.”

Housework was a pleasure for Mara. Only two of the rooms were carpeted: her bedroom and the study. She loved making the pile stand up, creating a more opulent look. She had fun dusting because she turned on the stereo and danced about the house causing whirls of dust motes to dance in the morning sun—when the sun decided to shine. By noon the rain stopped, and the clouds broke up. I’ll get a little sunshine, after all, she mused. She mopped and waxed the ever-shiny cherry wood floors. By one o’clock, the house was in tip-top shape. Right when she sat to rest, the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find a broad-chested man on the porch; Mara assumed him to be the driver from the night before since the sleek gray car sat in front of her house.

“Yes?” Mara asked.

“Oh, pardon me. I am admiring your lovely home. I have an invitation for one Mara Jamis, and one Jill Beckett,” he said, holding out a hand-lettered invitation.

After scanning it, she replied, “I am so sorry. I am unavailable at 10:00 tomorrow. I teach Sunday School at that time.”

With a mixture of pride and dread, she awaited his response. Some people were prone to ridicule, and she was so hoping these folks from Ireland were not the type. She realized she had a severe crush.

“Very noble indeed,” he replied with a warm smile and a nod. “No trouble, I have a second invite; this one is for four o’clock.” The well-dressed man pulled a near identical invitation from his tweed jacket.

With an attempt to stifle her grin, she said, “We’d love to attend.”

Not long after he left, Jill came home with groceries. As they put stuff away, Mara told her about the invitation for a late afternoon tea party.

“I looked through my closet, and I have nothing acceptable. Please come shopping with me!”

While driving to the mall, Mara regaled Jill with all the fun she had with her Great Aunt Lily and her cousins during their tea parties. “I miss her so much. We visited almost monthly when we moved to Bellevue. Before, it was every summer for two whole months. Then, well you know, there was the accident.” She paused a moment and rejoined, “And later, Mom made me go with her—to Sequim of all places!”

Jill already knew about the tragic sailing accident, which had caused the loss of Mara’s father and uncle when she was eleven years old. Two years later Lily Agnes O’Toole died, leaving her property to thirteen-year-old Mara. Her five cousins, all girls, had been jealous until the executor read the next part giving each of them $25,000. Mara received no cash, but her mother had been able to find a renter right away which, of course, was Jill. When Mara moved in at eighteen to start college, she did not mind taking the smaller suite. Jill felt at home in the spacious two rooms with its private bathroom. Besides, Mara had always wanted to sleep in Aunt Lily’s feather bed. As a result, twenty-seven-year-old Jill felt no reason to dislike the young owner, and they became dear friends in an instant.

At the mall, they tried on fifty dresses and settled on three each. Jill bought another business suit, as she was sure her business opportunity was right around the corner, and she would need to go to the bank for a loan. Sure enough, on the drive home, Jill drove past the cafe which she coveted; it was on the corner next to a bus stop, with a small parking lot on the side.

“Yes!” she shouted, startling Mara. “That lousy eatery finally went out of business, and the place is up for lease,” she cried and then laughed. “Mara, tell me the number. I want to call the realtor now!”

With eyes gleaming, Jill set up an appointment to meet with the realtor in the morning.

Then, noticing Mara’s quietness, she asked, “What’s wrong? You know this is what I’ve been waiting for, right?”

Mara sighed, “Yes, I do, and I am happy for you. It’s just that,” she paused to inhale as her chest constricted, “the place comes with an apartment above it. You will move out!” She nearly wailed the last part.

“Oh, sweetie, you are about to graduate, and you will start your own business. You are rolling in money already, and with your photography, you will make more than you ever made off of me as a renter,” Jill tried to placate.

“No, that’s not it,” Mara keened, rising in pitch. “I don’t want to be alone!” She hiccupped, and said, “I’ve never lived alone.”

Once in the garage, Jill turned off the engine. Sitting in the dark, she took Mara’s hand and said, “Listen, Mara, I’ve introduced you to every neighbor on the block, and half of them from all of the surrounding blocks. It’s a safe neighborhood. I lived here alone for nearly five years before you joined me. Besides, it will take a month or more to renovate that dive. I’m not leaving tomorrow.” Squeezing her hand, Jill got out of the car. Mara followed, wiping away a tear.

Once inside Jill said, “If you want, we can put an ad in the paper. I am sure you can always find another college student or two.”

“No,” Mara said, back in control and with a wavering smile. “My step-brother graduates this spring, and I think he has a football scholarship. At least, we all hope for one. Regardless, he will need a place. Mom did not want to kick you out or anything. In fact,” Mara continued with a real smile, “she’s ready to pay for fixing up the basement to put him down there!”

“I see,” Jill replied dryly, reminding Mara of Lucille Ball at her driest.

“I suppose I can survive a few months alone. I don’t think Ricky intends to move in until fall,” Mara said, with apparent calm. Privately she still dreaded being on her own.