I have dreamed of pleasantly
waking under a dome of branches, and have used this in several stories at
I do not now remember how
much of the first scene with Zofia and Kurmal I dreamed. I do know that I dreamed multiple times of
being called “The Tilián Witch”—angrily and fearfully by one side, with guilty
hope by the other. I never liked it but
I learned to live with it.
And I have dreamed often of
the little girl–she seems to crop up frequently, in different dreams, different
families, and different lands: a hard-eyed little toddler who has seen too
much, and who doesn’t speak. She reminds
me of me at that age, except that she’s often blonde. An aspect of my Shadow, that I keep trying to
Come to think of it, I haven’t
dreamed of her since my father, bravely humbling himself to confess to a
therapist what she needed to know to heal his sick daughter, admitted that the
family story, that I had been late learning to talk, was a lie—I had begun
early, but stopped for three years after he (under the influence of
amphetamines, which people didn’t know was dangerous back then) knocked me out
for naively imitating a cussword. Since
then I have found my voice, and lost the mute little dream-girl.
My dreams of Lufti’s ride
are a blur, but I do know that part of it involved fleeing bandits who had
nothing to do with the business for which I rode.
I wrote the wedding of Zofia