Dreaming in the Valley of Bones

It was almost dawn as Roxanne and Odin approached the Valley of Bones and neither had slept duing the long trek to the Alluvial Mines.  Roxanne begged Odin to stop and rest for a while.  Odin obliged although he was not too happy about the spot Roxanne had picked for a nap. 

‘But,” argued Roxanne, ” we need to sleep before we cross such strange territory.”

Odin reluctantly agreed, and they both lay down to sleep a while. Hours later they awoke, more exhausted than before they slept, after fitful dreams. Curiously they both discovered that they had shared the same nightmares.  At least it was day time now.

 

Behind the Tavern with a Donkey

 

‘’It must be here somewhere’’, Roxanne muttered to herself.’’ L’Enchantuer said I would find it on the bed along with a few other Very Useful Items’’.

By now Roxanne had pretty much destroyed the symmetrical neatness of her beautifully prepared cabin. Glancing around at the wreckage she had created she muttered wryly to her, ‘’At least it feels more like home now, though it’s a pity that I am leaving just as I have arrived! ‘’

She kicked her sandels off in annoyance and walked off towards the set of drawers in the corner. Her irritation and annoyance increased when she trod upon something hard lying on the floor.

‘’Geez!’’ she growled. ‘’ Why don’t people pick up after themselves?’’, conveniently forgetting that she was the only person inhabiting this cabin. Looking down she saw what she had stood upon – a walnut, and just as she was about to start complaining about the idiot who had neglected to throw his half eaten nuts away, she stopped, suddenly realizing that this was probably what she had been looking for. She stooped down to pick it up and before she could even straighten herself back up again, she began to twirl and whirl, faster and faster, until she could no longer make out any details of her room, until everything in front of her eyes became infused with a luminous white light, and all she could do was shut her eyes closed tightly against the radiance while she swallowed her fear.

Bump! ‘’Ow! Now that hurt!! ‘’, she complained, to no one in particular.

‘’Ha! Not nearly as much as it’s gonna hurt in a few hours from now!’’

‘’Who said that?’’ Roxanne inquired nervously, since she could see nobody around. It was dark, except for a few faint glimmers of light cast out upon what appeared to be the back of some sort of building.  Judging from the raucous laughter and sounds of clinking glass Roxanne reckoned it must be a pub of some sorts.

‘’You’re quite bright really aren’t you?’’ said the voice again.

‘’OK quit playing games,’’ Roxanne said nervously, although she tried to inject an air of authority into her voice.

‘’Hee, hee! You gotta try better than that if you’re gonna survive this trail dearie’’.

‘’Please come out into the light and let me see your face,’’ pleaded Roxanne.

‘’Glad to oblige’’, replied the voice, and out of the shadows stepped a — donkey, pushing his nose right up against Roxanne’s arm. Roxanne screamed.

‘’Oh for God’s sake, get a grip! I’m a bleeding talking donkey. What did you expect signing up for a journey with E.? ‘’, grumbled the donkey.  ‘’I am your guide and helper for this part of your trip. You are going to be spending a lot of time with me, so you’d better get used to me real soon. And what in Jezebel’s name are you wearing?’’

Roxanne looked down at herself and realized that she was only half dressed wearing nothing more than a long tee shirt, plus her shoes were gone.

‘’Oh no! ‘’ she groaned. ‘’I teleported before I had time to change. What am I going to do? I can’t go on a trip looking like this!’’

‘’Well, it might be interesting to go into the tavern and see if anyone can help you,’’ laughed the donkey, as he listened to some very loud male voices singing lewd songs.

‘’Donkey! I thought you said you were here to help me! ‘’

‘’Aaah, only kidding. Though it could be a bit of crack!’’ he insisted.

Roxanne gave him a kick.

‘’Well now if you’re going to be like that we had better get properly introduced. My name is Odin, and let’s get one thing straight – I do not like being kicked, AND I can kick a lot harder than you!’’ And with that he gave Roxanne an almighty kick on the butt.

‘’Eeeaagh!! That’s not fair! You’re bigger than me, and stronger. That’s no way to treat a lady.’’

‘’Maybe not, but then your no lady! Now look in my bags here. E. left you a few things that you might need’’.

Of course the first things Roxanne pulled out of the bags were a pair of thick socks and some mountain boots, along with jeans, a thermal jumper and a heavy duty raincoat.

‘’Guess we’re not following the sun then, huh?’’ Roxanne queried.

‘’Nah! Now how about getting us a glass of the strong stuff before we set out? Pop into the tavern there and make mine a double’’.

Roxanne pulled on the warm clothes, glad to be properly dressed again and wandered around to the front of the tavern, wondering at what kind of world she had found herself in, going to a pub to buy alcohol for a donkey!

 

MEETING L’ENCHANTEUR

 Not being much of a climber, having had little reason to engage in such a pursuit before now, Roxanne pulled herself awkwardly up the rope ladder, until eventually she reached the top.  Grabbing the edge of the ship’s side she heaved herself up and over, falling in an unceremonious heap at the feet of who else but L’Enchantuer!

‘’Mmmm, so you’ve arrived then, Roxanne. We were beginning to wonder if you had lost your mettle. Glad to see that you still have some spunk in you. Remains to be seen just how much though, eh? Anyway you’ve held us all up for long enough. The fireworks are over and the shows have all ended. But rules must be obeyed. I presume you have brought a gift? It is the price of passage.’’

‘’A gift?’’ Roxanne stammered, as she began to open her bag in the hopes of finding something that might satisfy L’Enchanteur, and thinking that this was the first she’d heard of any such stipulation.

‘’Ah no, nothing so easy as that my dear! You really think that you can fob me off with anything less than everything you have at this moment? You have chosen to come on a journey with me, a journey to total and utter transformation. If you ever return from this trip into the Unknown, and that remains to be seen, you will certainly no longer be who you are today. Ha, ha!’’

 A couple of parrots hanging around on the rails behind L’enchantuer cawed loudly as if they too were in on the joke.

‘’So, what’s it to be then? Hurry, it’s almost time to set sail.’’

Standing on the deck of this huge translemurian liner, feeling completely and utterly inadequate and more than that, useless, as if she had been stripped down to nothing, as if the bag containing her few precious items had suddenly become worthless, Roxanne felt lost and bereft of hope, never mind ideas. And then she looked at L’Enchanteur, peered straight into her eyes, eyes which seemed to hold Roxanne’s own in a spell, eyes which seemed to speak to her, eyes which harboured deep within a kindness that didn’t reach her lips. And suddenly Roxanne felt something new rise inside of her, some strange sense of purpose, a fledgling sense of empowerment.  And instantly she knew what to do, exactly what to gift this woman who seemed to hold such power and sway over her life. The opening words of a poem she remembered from long ago flitted across her mind.

‘’I have something’’, she spoke quietly, looking shyly up at L’Enchanteur. ‘’It’s beginning is both old and borrowed, being the words of another poet, it’s newness are the words I add, and it’s out of a hat because I have pulled it from thin air with nothing else but who and what I am right here and now’’.

Roxanne stood up straight and began to recite her poem, her voice gaining strength with each line she uttered.

 

‘’I will not die an unlived life’’.

—No, nor live an unliveable one either.

But I am ready for this, and only this –

To die before I die;

To die again and again,

Until finally I will rise again,

Transformed into something utterly new,

Alive, living and free.

 

L’Enchantuer clapped her hands.

‘’Bravo, little one. You have done well. Now follow me and I shall bring you to your cabin.’’

Roxanne picked up her bag, once again glad to have something familiar, something from her previous life, to hold on to, and followed L’Enchanteur through the open portal into the heart of the ship.

On the Pier

   Roxanne stepped down from the bus, jumping over a huge pool of water lying directly in front of the door. But she didn’t quite make it, and landed on the edge, splashing her sandels and trousers with sea water left behind after the last storm which had recently raged through the Lemurian Cove and the Murmuring Woods. 

‘’Thank God it’s not stormy tonight,’’ she thought to herself as she tried to dry herself with one tiny and inadequate handkerchief, while considering just how sea sick she has been on other sea journeys in the past.  Giving up the attempt to wipe herself clean as a lost cause, she straightened up and glanced around to try and get her bearings.

  By now the bus had long since disappeared back into the mist and fog from where it had first appeared.  Although she was standing alone, she knew there were hordes of people nearby.  She could hear them hustling and bustling, the sounds seeming to float towards her. The hour was late. It was well after 11pm and she needed to check in before midnight. A single street light shone ahead and she began to make her way towards it. The light itself was so dim as to be almost ineffectual, and yet since it was the only source of illumination she was grateful for it. Thick blankets of fog rolled in from the sea, each riding and pushing against the other. The atmosphere was so dense that it felt as if she was breathing in huge gulps of water-laden air.   As she came closer to the lamp she had the distinct impression that some spectre figures were moving in and out of its reflected light, but quickly dismissed this as a figment of her overactive imagination.

‘’Must go and make that appointment with the optician!’’, she thought to herself.

  When she finally reached the lamp she discovered that it was situated on a corner alongside an old stone wall, behind which lay the harbour. Roxanne looked down from where she stood and caught her breath. This was not quite what she had imagined or hoped for, although if asked to describe exactly what it was she was expecting, she would have been hard put to do so. Still such hordes of people were certainly not what she wanted right now. Clutching tightly to her small carry-all she began to make her way down the stone steps and into the milling crowd.  At first she moved slowly and timidly, but quickly realised that she was getting nowhere and if she wanted to get on board before the liner left the dock she had better become more proactive. Still she felt apprehensive and shy, as if stuck here in the midst of this vast crowd of individuals, each with their own story and dreams and wishes, she grew smaller and increasingly insignificant. It seemed as if there were hundreds and hundreds of people gathered on the pier, drawn by the magic of a new maiden voyage.  Young and old were crowded together, shouting and cheering each time another passenger boarded the ship. Fireworks began to explode above her head, lighting up the dark sky, and rendering even more strange the faces of all who looked up to watch. Streamers and banners came floating down and little children screamed in delight when they caught one, or when a friendly adult handed them a colourful balloon.

  When it seemed as if she could push no further and just as she began to question the wisdom of her decision to take this trip, she thought she could feel someone touch her arm. She looked down but all she could see were the limbs of the many who brushed on past her. Still the particular sensation of an insistent hand on her arm would not go away. She glanced down again, and this time noticed that four long, thin, pale fingers were wrapped around her sleeve. Opening her mouth to scream in terror, she stopped before the noise left her throat. A tall woman clad only in a white woollen cape stood in front of her.  Roxanne’s heart missed a beat as she took in the deep green eyes set in a face so pale it appeared almost bloodless and as bleached of colour as the cloak she wore. Long, black eye lashes partially screened the intense look directed at her. No smile to comfort or reassure emerged from the wan lips, only a hushing sound as she placed a finger upon Roxanne’s mouth.  The Woman in White partially turned away, beckoning Roxanne to follow. As the woman stepped forward, the crowds parted to make way for her and Roxanne, so that they seemed to be passing through a human corridor.  As they moved onwards, the crowd moved back closing the gap,  and all as if in a dream.  No one seemed to notice anything strange or odd, as if, Roxanne thought to herself, neither she nor the Woman in White were really there.

‘’Oh great, now I really am losing it!’’, muttered Roxanne to herself. ‘’This is a journey to insanity!’’.

By now they had reached the liner.  Once there the wraith-like woman leaned in close and whispered unintelligible words into Roxanne’s ear.  Although Roxanne had no idea what the woman was saying, she had the distinct impression that she would understand, sooner or later. After laying her hands upon Roxanne’s head as if to bless her, the Woman in White retreated backwards, all the time staring deeply into her eyes, before simply disappearing, her physical form merging into the mist and fog.

Utterly bewildered by now, Roxanne couldn’t even begin to form any idea of what she ought to do next. Suddenly, she thought she heard her name from somewhere above. She looked up. A very official looking individual, dressed in what Roxanne presumed was the crew’s uniform, shouted down to her from the deck.

‘’Roxanne Hardy? Hurry up and get on board. We’ve been waiting for you. L’Enchanteur wants to have a word and she is not a patient woman. Here climb this rope ladder. It will be quicker than trying to get on that way’’, and she pointed to the gangway.

Grateful at least that she had decided to wear trousers and flat shoes, Roxanne began to scramble aboard.

On the way to Lemurian Cove

 By 6pm the following evening Roxanne was packed and ready to leave. Electricity, gas and water were all turned off. She has handed the keys of her home and car over to her bemused mother, in a rush of words and hugs that left her mother bewildered and Roxanne herself feeling as if they were saying goodbye forever. While she was waiting for the tour companies bus to take her to the harbour, she wondered about the conflictual feelings that were racing through her heart and mind. Why did she feel so compelled to take this journey into the unknown? Why was she so afraid? She had travelled extensively in her life. What made this journey so different? But mostly she pondered over the deep conviction that she was being called to take this journey. But called by whom or what? Roxanne had not given much of her time in her life so far to pondering upon the hidden meanings of Life. Life was simply what it was. Each day was a new day, a clean slate. You woke up, cleared the sleep and dream-like phantoms from your eyes and jumped out of bed into the unseen promises of the future. At least that is what her life used to be like. In recent times her daily awakenings were more likely to be slow starting affairs, with movements that were considerably more heavy than lighthearted. Actually it occurred to her wryly, that she couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled at herself in the mirror. Yes it was time for a change. As ìf on cue, the bus appeared, emerging from the dark December fog, the glimmer of its lights casting a gentle glow upon the uneven edges of the wind blown mists, giving the bus itself the appearance of having no definite contours, as if indeed the bus itself was not real. Roxanne shook her head in an attempt to push such foolish thoughts aside. Roxanne did not believe in magic. Having being reared in a strict Catholic home where she was forced each night to kneel down for what seemed like an interminable length of time to recite decade after decade of the Rosary and to pray for the intentions of lists of people who needed prayers said for them, lists that grow longer after her mother had met up with any of her friends. For her the belief in the efficacy of prayer was akin to believing in magic, a contenance that she would never entertain. No she was a Humanist now. She believed that what she saw was what she got, and that she had one life to live and after that was done it was simply curtains. In many ways her adult belief system made living a lot easier. For one thing it removed the fear of an Almighty Being who was watching and judging her every move. And while Roxanne liked to consider herself an essentially ethical person, she held no firm beliefs in definite rights and wrongs. Her motto, if she had one, would be the simple opinion that everything must be understood in context. The notion of context allowed her the freedom to decide everything on the merits of whatever a given situation presented to her. Thus a lover who was already married created no residual feelings of guilt if, in her opinion and based upon the pitiful tales of the lover, it seemed that the poor man was merely a sad and hen-pecked husband to whom she was merely offering some much required solace. Yes, to live one’s life in context was a good sort of life to live. Or at least it had been, up to now. And now? Where was she now? Well, that was easy. No great philosophical musings were needed to identify the sounds and smells that seemed to be wafting through the half opened window above the driver’s head. Roxanne could hear noise, a lot of banging and shouting and even occasional peals of laughter. She heard too the lapping of waves against stone walls, and the jangling of massive chains against steel and wood. Suddenly the driver stopped the bus, and turned to face the passengers announcing their arrival at their destination – Lemurian Cove. Roxanne stood up and reached for her travel bag. Glancing around the interior of the bus to get a glimpse of the other passengers, she was amazed to discover that she had been the only solitary traveller on this part of the trip, and yet she had been certain that she had heard the quiet murmurings of others in the background. Stepping down off the bus she wondered who or what she had heard and wished that she had paid more attention than she had. ‘’I have a feeling that I had better waken up if I am to make this journey’’, she mused to herself as she carried her small bag down the wharf towards the office where she was to check in before boarding the gigantic SS Vulcania that seemed to rise out of the sea and loom above her.

Answering the Call

Roxanne stretched her arm over to turn off the alarm that was ringing insistently in her ears, demanding an immediate response. Rolling back upon her pillow she tried to stop the tide of thoughts and memories that came rushing in upon her. She wanted to slip back into the sfae oblivion of deep sleep, but knew that the more she tried the more elusive it became. ”Dam!”, she muttered as she pried herself up on to her elbows, giving up the fight. Pushing back the covers she swung her legs out of the bed and searched with her foot for the slippers she knew were lying on the carpet somewhere. She tried to avoid looking at the dressing table, but somehow her eyes were drawn towards the photo that stood there. When was she going to finally admit that he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Anyway what made him so different from all the others? But maybe it wasn’t he who had being so different. Perhaps she was the one who was changing. Roxanne didn’t really understand what was going on in her life recently. Getting out of bed every morning was getting harder and harder. Most nights and weekends she spent trying to find excuses not to go out partying with her friends. It was getting to the stage that that even her closest friends were beginning to give up on her. The previous night her mother had called asking her what she would like for her 30th birthday. ”Only 30? I feel more like 50!” she replied and then lied telling her that she was in the middle of washing her hair so she couldn’t talk right then. After putting the phone down she chastised herself for her lame excuse, but she really didn’t have the energy to come up with anything more interesting. Grabbing her dressing gown she threw it around her shoulders and plodded down the stairs to make her early morning cup of coffee. Just as she was about to sit down to drink it she heard something drop through the letter box. ”It’s a bit early for the post”, she thought to herself as she wandered out to the door to pick it up. Back at the kitchen table she opened it out. It was a paper she had neither seen nor heard of before — ” Vulcanian Times”. Intrigued she began to leaf through it until an advertisement caught her eye. A spectacular liner called the SS Vulcania was about to take off on its maiden voyage. This exclusive transatlantic liner, it said, was based on the luxurious Italian liners of the past and offered a cruise of untold elegance, entertainment and pleasure. Instantly Roxanne decided that this was exactly what she needed in her life right now. When life got tough, her motto was always to find some form of distraction, and wait for the bad patch to pass on by, and a cruise was the perect antidote from her sad and sordid life. Picking up the phone she began to dial the contact number. ”Hello. This is Enquiries. May I help you please?. Are you interested in joining us on our translemurian cruise? But of course you are since you found the advertisement, or rather the advertisement found you. Ha! Ha! Only those destined to come on this journey may board this ship. Well then, here is all the information you need to know. Come down to the cove, just beyond the Murmuring Woods on the 12th Night and you will see the SS Vulcania where she is berthed before she sets off on her maiden, Translemurian voyage. But be warned. This is no ordinary journey. For a start it will last for one whole year. Once you begin it, there is no turning back. The person who sets out on this voyage will not return. By the end of your journey your life will be altered beyond all knowing. Prepare yourself to witness both wondrous deeds and countless perils. Like a girl guide you must be ready for all eventualities. Bring only one small bag containing your spiritual and writing essentials, along with something old, something new, something borrowed and something pulled out of a hat. Oh yes and whatever else you do, don’t forget a gift for Le Enchanteur. You do NOT want to anger her! Well then, we shall look forward to seeing you on the 12th! Goodbye.” Click! The phone line went dead. Roxanne remained rooted to the spot. She stood in the hallway still holding the phone in her hands minutes after the call had ended. ”Did this really happen? Am I really about to go away for a year? A year?? How can I do that? I have a job, committments, a life to live? I can’t just up and leave all this behind. What about my mortgage? My car?” And yet with each reason for not going, it seemed as if her resolve was breaking down, until finally she could no longer recall any excuse for not upping and leaving right there and then. She walked into the kitchen, took out a sheet of paper, and as if under a trance began to list all the things she needed to do on the morrow to prepare for her voyage into the Unknown. And never before in her life had she felt so happy and free.

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