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hot shower and climbed into bed. Cyrus followed a few minutes later and they lay in the same bed without speaking, their backs to each other but not touching, like the two rails of a railroad track. |
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The mahogany box was on top of the dresser, forgotten. |
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He was floating like a cloudthat's what tipped him off that it was another dream. He felt warm and safe and kind of curious, because it was so different from the dreams he had been having lately. There was no mysterious mountain, no ghostly moon, no feeling of freedom. Only a dark tunnel with a light no bigger than a candle flame at the end. And he was moving through the tunnelnot walkingsort of gliding along effortlessly. |
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Then, just like that, he was standing in a room he had never seen before. In the center of the room was the silhouette of a woman, hovering above the floor with her legs folded up like a Hindu holy man. Cyrus knew it was a woman by the shape of her shadow, for her body was surrounded by a halo of blinding white light from the lone candle on the table behind her. He waited patiently for her to speak, but all he heard was the rushing of the wind coming from the tunnel at his back. Holding out her hand, the woman beckoned him forward. He stood his ground and waited. |
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The woman beckoned again, and even though Cyrus felt no threat in her gestures, he did receive an overwhelming sense of urgency. |
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His words took the form of bats that flew from his lips up into the dark. Behind him, the whistle of the wind slowly diminished, coming in pulses like wind blowing through the open doors of passing boxcars. The pulses became a babble of voiceshigh-pitched, repeating a single sound. |
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Finally, the woman's voice seemed to explode inside his head: "Wake up!" |
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