And as she looked out the window of the air plane and stared into the clouds, the mimosa seemed to swirl Daphne’s thoughts into such a brilliant sunny, sun kissed tint of orange blossom
Daphne was on her way to the isles of folklore and fairytales where the ancient ways of memory brewed thick among the ruins and Daphne had a few lost ruins of her own
Those dreams she cast off
What was it that her dream of Tolkien was trying to tell her? He stood in a swirling wormhole of time in an underground tunnel that looked like coal mines and he stood reaching out to her, his cost tails flying in the sweeping wind sweep of the time warp currents …. “before it’s too late ….” he reached out with his hand for her to come with him …. what was it he said again ….?
She said it aloud to the airplane window,
“something has gone wrong with the time lines of history ….”
but whatever could that mean ….anyway? and why in her right mind would she still be asking herself what a dream meant? It was a dream. Just a dream. Dreams don’t mean anything.
But then the Ashbridge thing happened —isn’t that interesting? As if —as if ….she was meant to become involved in this —no! That’s silly! What a thought….how crazy she was to even imagine such a wild idea, as if! Meant to ….
And she stared into the clouds and let her mind instead think about more tranquil thoughts, like memories of Father.
Yes, thst day when everything got better. It was a long drive in his shiny silver car and she fell asleep several hours into the journey. He had been telling her about his work but all that she understood was that he helped people and was very important and could marry people in a church; maybe that was why he was Father.
She had not been well at first. It was hazy to remember. The bad memories would come often. The scars on her spine that would never go away. Sometimes in the middle of people talking she would —go to sleep with her eyes open. She would hear things. But could not move.
What she remembered must about the drive to New York was his voice. It somehow made her feel that everything was going to be all right. He kept talking all the way to New York. He told her about the sermons he wrote and what they were about, he told her about the poor people in his congregation that he needed to help by changing laws in Washington and he told her about his two sons and how he was sure they would like her.
She remembered she asked him about school with trepidation and with relief his reply was unexpected,
“no—I’m not sending you to school,” and st first this fell cryptically without explanation
After quite a long time on the drive, he had sighed,
“education of life—nothing better than travel; I’ll take you straight to history, we’ll go to Europe —and I’ll hire a private tutor for when congress is in session—you’ll like the city, I’ll show you the good spots of old New York, the old jazz joints ….”
She stared into the black and cloudy grey past the window glass and then her head got all cloudy too making her fall asleep against the glass
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