I mentally kicked myself. I was turning into a gloom-filled Turner. I must stop that, I decided as I scrubbed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I donned pajamas and threw myself into bed.
Timothy
“She was perfect, Andrew. You saw the way she looked — so beautiful, but it was more than that. She is kind, and she feels everything so greatly. Those are qualities that seem rare in this age, maybe in all ages. But you are definitely wrong, Andrew. She is the one.”
“I am happy for you,” he said rather stiffly. I glanced over at him, trying to read his face, but Andrew had lived as many years as I had. He concealed his thoughts skillfully.
“You still have doubts about her?” I prodded.
“I will continue to doubt your relationship until you tell her.”
I sighed. He was right, but I wasn’t ready yet. Penelope wasn’t equipped to take the leap into my world. She needed time to fall in love with me first. I wanted her to trust me implicitly.
Penelope
The dreams I had that night were strange, filled with pookas. The rabbit was there, his ears pouncing as he nodded his head. The tiny fox jumped on my bed and brushed against my cheek. He didn’t speak, just looked at me with sad eyes. An owl visited and a strange cat. Last of all was the black as night wild stallion. He spoke to me.
“Come for a ride, my darling.”
I knew his voice and the way he said darling. It was Timothy, which made no sense, since Timothy was definitely not a horse, but then dreams often don’t apply logic. I’d once had a nightmare where I was on a cooking show, attempting to prepare an edible meal, except the ingredients I needed kept running away, scurrying across the floor before I could dump them into the large mixing bowl I’d been given. Then, even the eggs I’d just cracked and added, reassembled themselves, spread their wings, which were poking out of the shells, and soared upwards toward the ceiling.
But in this dream, the horse was standing over my bed, pawing at the ground. He was a beautiful animal, and I wanted to please him, but what he was asking was ludicrous. I had no idea how to ride a horse. I’d never ridden. I explained that to him, and he nodded his head. “I will always be gentle with you. You are to be my bride.”
I stood up then, slid onto his back from the bed, draping one leg over the horse’s back and sort of pulled and scooted myself into place. The huge horse stood perfectly still, waiting for me to get adjusted.
Strangely, I didn’t wonder the presence of a horse in my bedroom, or how he’d gotten upstairs into my apartment. Dreams are magical. Everyone knows that. Thus, when the carpet turned into grassy knolls and gray boulders of rock, I didn’t comment on it. This was dreamland, the WonderLand of fantasy.