The Book of Dreams i-VIII

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THE BOOK OF REQUIEMS:    THE TALE OF Brian (and Yumi):

  I’m not sure at which point when I became lost or when I realized what was happening if I even believed that either.  But, to be honest, sometimes I still can’t tell the difference of which is real, and which is, well - until they’re not any more, and by then I just enjoy the experience.  After all, that’s really what it’s about, right? The experience, yes? 

 “I can tell from your expression I should start from the beginning, that’s always a good place to start.  Yesterday I was enjoying a quiet walk along the Branny River, where the shallow ford is.  I tossed a blanket down to sit awhile and watch the children play near the bank, skimming stones across the water and going for a swim and all.  Suddenly Seagulls were scattering and began to call.  I remember that, and that it was near evening but not yet dusk when it happened.  I know I must sound confusing to you, but really I am trying to tell you as best as I can recollect.  You know that feeling when you don’t remember falling asleep but that undeniable head-nod lets you know you’re certainly awake, that hasn’t happened yet.  One moment I was there on the river bank and the next I was frantically brushing tree limbs and leaves out of my face realizing I was suddenly walking out of the woods into this clearing.  That’s when I saw you smiling at me sitting here in this gazebo.  My name is Miriam, and what is yours?”

  “My name is Brian, guess you wouldn’t know my father Jacob either? No.  My wife is Yumi, no? You wouldn’t know her daughter,  Andrea?  Sorry, I’m a little lost as well, beautiful place though.  Wonder what they call this place?”

  “They?”

  “It just came to me, I haven’t seen anyone else here, just you now.  It’s only my second time here.  It’s a strange place, anything is possible.  A stone was floating by moments before you came along and then it just fell.  Right there, where you’re standing now.”

  They both looked down to see a hummingbird fly from atop the gray riverstone onto the young girl’s shoulder.  She gave a startling laugh, smiling at the bird chirping in her ear, then she said, “Krilleeos is a wonderful name for this glade, why thank you.”

  “See what I mean and that’s normal here.  Where are you from?”

  “Uruk, and you?”