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.Had someone put something in it? It was too dim in the passageway to see.The music had changed.African drums, and a woman keening in Irish.It was interesting, but it wasn’t Sonny’s.Now she was in a long, narrow room filled with silk cushions.People were sitting around a low, lacquered table.There was a mirror, lines of white dust.She knew what that meant.Sonny looked up at her.His eyes were red, like a night animal’s.But how would she have known that, in this room lit only by candles? Hi sweetheart come on in.She isn’t sure which of the following actually happened, and in which order: She rushed at him, shouting.Hands pulled her down before she got far.Whoa sweetheart, here’s something to calm you down.She hit him, sending the white dust flying.Arms wouldn’t let her go.There were lips.Fingers on the buttons of her dress.She could feel each silk thread separately on her skin before it slid off.Later she would find a long scratch along the underside of her arm, crusted with dried blood.He offered her the mirror.She took it and lowered her face to it, because what else was there to do.Someone pulled her down on a cushion.There were hands everywhere.She cried out, Sonny, Sonny, help me, but he was busy smiling at someone else.Someone led her out of the room.Someone called a taxi.She was laughing.She was crying.She was very, very thirsty.She drank what someone put into her hand.She put her hand into Sonny’s pants pocket and found the car keys.She drove home, careful not to speed, flexing her legs to keep them from cramping.She didn’t throw up until she was parked in the driveway.She remembered to be thankful that Jona was staying with her mother.The only fact she’s sure of is this: at some point that night, she looked up at the sky.It was empty, the moon had been eaten up.She knew then that she had to leave him.Her father bends, strokes the cover of a notebook as though it were a face.“I can help you read them,” he says.The words hang in front of her, gossamer-winged as a fishing lure.“If you want.”18FROM THEDREAM JOURNALSLESSON 62: THE TALE OFNEEHAR THE UNFORTUNATE (AN EXCERPT).and the elders saw that in Neehar the gift was strong, stronger than they had seen in their lifetime.Her body glowed with it, as if formed of phosphor, and there was distance in her eye, as though she were looking into the vastness of time.This made them afraid, for they knew the stories of other such gifted women, and what had become of them.They held a council and decided that they would share with Neehar the first nine levels of skill but keep from her the tenth and most powerful.It did no good.When Neehar dreamed, all secrets were laid open before her, even secrets that the elders themselves did not know.Thus Neehar grew stronger than the leaders of the council, but she was young and willful, and did not know how to use her power.When the training of the novices was ended, the elders, in a last attempt to save Neehar, asked her to remain with them in the caves and become a teacher.They promised that with time she would be given the leadership of the council.But to Neehar a life among old women in the depths of a mountain’s fastness seemed small and suffocating.The power that burned in her was restless to be known.It called to her to taste of the world and all that lay in it.She left the caves, but unlike her sister novices she did not settle in a town, as was the custom, and tend to its inhabitants.Instead she traveled through the land, reading the dreams of all who asked her.Though she had been warned that dream tellers must be secret in the practice of their craft, she scorned such caution.In full sight of the crowds that gathered wherever she went, she would place her hands on the temples of those that came to be helped, and tell them the meaning of their dreams.There was no dream so complex that she could not unravel it, no problem so deep that she did not have its solution.It is said that each day she saved a thousand lives and reputations, predicted victory and good fortune, gave hope to the despairing, and warned the luckless of disasters that lay in wait [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Had someone put something in it? It was too dim in the passageway to see.The music had changed.African drums, and a woman keening in Irish.It was interesting, but it wasn’t Sonny’s.Now she was in a long, narrow room filled with silk cushions.People were sitting around a low, lacquered table.There was a mirror, lines of white dust.She knew what that meant.Sonny looked up at her.His eyes were red, like a night animal’s.But how would she have known that, in this room lit only by candles? Hi sweetheart come on in.She isn’t sure which of the following actually happened, and in which order: She rushed at him, shouting.Hands pulled her down before she got far.Whoa sweetheart, here’s something to calm you down.She hit him, sending the white dust flying.Arms wouldn’t let her go.There were lips.Fingers on the buttons of her dress.She could feel each silk thread separately on her skin before it slid off.Later she would find a long scratch along the underside of her arm, crusted with dried blood.He offered her the mirror.She took it and lowered her face to it, because what else was there to do.Someone pulled her down on a cushion.There were hands everywhere.She cried out, Sonny, Sonny, help me, but he was busy smiling at someone else.Someone led her out of the room.Someone called a taxi.She was laughing.She was crying.She was very, very thirsty.She drank what someone put into her hand.She put her hand into Sonny’s pants pocket and found the car keys.She drove home, careful not to speed, flexing her legs to keep them from cramping.She didn’t throw up until she was parked in the driveway.She remembered to be thankful that Jona was staying with her mother.The only fact she’s sure of is this: at some point that night, she looked up at the sky.It was empty, the moon had been eaten up.She knew then that she had to leave him.Her father bends, strokes the cover of a notebook as though it were a face.“I can help you read them,” he says.The words hang in front of her, gossamer-winged as a fishing lure.“If you want.”18FROM THEDREAM JOURNALSLESSON 62: THE TALE OFNEEHAR THE UNFORTUNATE (AN EXCERPT).and the elders saw that in Neehar the gift was strong, stronger than they had seen in their lifetime.Her body glowed with it, as if formed of phosphor, and there was distance in her eye, as though she were looking into the vastness of time.This made them afraid, for they knew the stories of other such gifted women, and what had become of them.They held a council and decided that they would share with Neehar the first nine levels of skill but keep from her the tenth and most powerful.It did no good.When Neehar dreamed, all secrets were laid open before her, even secrets that the elders themselves did not know.Thus Neehar grew stronger than the leaders of the council, but she was young and willful, and did not know how to use her power.When the training of the novices was ended, the elders, in a last attempt to save Neehar, asked her to remain with them in the caves and become a teacher.They promised that with time she would be given the leadership of the council.But to Neehar a life among old women in the depths of a mountain’s fastness seemed small and suffocating.The power that burned in her was restless to be known.It called to her to taste of the world and all that lay in it.She left the caves, but unlike her sister novices she did not settle in a town, as was the custom, and tend to its inhabitants.Instead she traveled through the land, reading the dreams of all who asked her.Though she had been warned that dream tellers must be secret in the practice of their craft, she scorned such caution.In full sight of the crowds that gathered wherever she went, she would place her hands on the temples of those that came to be helped, and tell them the meaning of their dreams.There was no dream so complex that she could not unravel it, no problem so deep that she did not have its solution.It is said that each day she saved a thousand lives and reputations, predicted victory and good fortune, gave hope to the despairing, and warned the luckless of disasters that lay in wait [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]