Demensions - Shangrana's Power: Part Two

     The next few days pass. Church on Sunday is a little more painful than usual because Father William has remembered her parents in the prayers during service, he never forgets. The only thing of note being that Mira books herself and Paul into the local five star hotel called The Redmond Hall. So, the days were quite normal.
     The nights however, are a different matter. Sunday has passed as usual, church in the morning, then lunch and afterwards some baking for the week ahead. The house seems lonely after church so Miranda listened to her jazz tapes all day. Strains of Monty Sunshine and Benny Goodman filled the air taking away the emptiness, even managing to lift her heart a little.
     By teatime she is quite pleased with herself. An array of cakes and buns line the kitchen table. Everything from chocolate chip cookies to bakewell tarts - more than enough usually but she has been eating twice as much as usual recently. Anyway, a little extra won't go amiss. As she takes the last bun tray from the oven and sets the cakes to cool the jazz stops. Deciding against another CD she puts the kettle on for a cup of tea and goes into the living room. Fifteen minutes later she has her cup of tea; a reasonable fire started in the grate and is snuggled up watching television. There is a programme on about an antique that is getting interesting when suddenly the fire spits a burning ember onto the hearth. Jumping from her chair Miranda grabs a pair of tongs and quickly pops the piece of wood back behind the grate. Sitting down again, heart racing, the television forgotten, the fire mesmerises her, the flames spurting and dancing, the colours fascinating. Sinking into the depths of the chair she can feel herself falling, gently, into a deep trance like sleep.
     She looks around her. She's there again. It is obviously the same place - only different. She is standing under the archway of a huge gate, at the entrance to a city. Behind her the rolling hills and valleys of her last dream can be seen in the distance, as clean and beautiful as before.
     Taking a hesitant step forward she slowly walks into the city. It is stunning. The archway she has entered through has high, graceful columns on either side, meeting at the top in a mural depicting a fantastic scene. All of nature's creatures are there in all their beauty and spread over them, wings open, is a dragon. The most wondrous sight she has ever seen. Not like the dragons in storybooks, this one is magnificent. Every smallest detail has been captured by the sculptor's skill, the high polish on the claws, the patterns of the scales, the look of majesty on the creature's face. Most unlike the dragons of myth and legend is the fact that this dragon is obviously protecting all the animals on the carving. With its wings spread wide it encompasses all those below it, like a mother gathering her children to her breast, beneficent, wonderful, caring, majestic. Suddenly Miranda realises she has been holding her breath at the sheer beauty of it. Clasping her knees in her hands she bends and takes some deep breathes until the world stops spinning and decides to explore the city with such a wonderful guardian at its gateway.
     Turning, she makes her way down the broad, tree-lined avenue. To either side buildings rear out of the ground as if on wings of air.
     Tall, slender, delicate and full of filigree stonework balconies that seem to defy logic - bridges spanning from one side of the avenue to the other or simply between neighbouring buildings. None of it seems plausible. It looks fragile enough to be broken by a gust of wind. Light as gossamer wings yet obviously strong as steel, the buildings are a wonder. But that is only half of it. The colours! Oh the colours deny description, soft shimmering blues and greens - the colour of summer ponds, pinks that change from iridescent to pearl as you move towards them. There is every shade from bright, sparkling white to the deepest cream. All of them perfect, not a mark or blemish on any wall or balcony. Looking too new to be true. Entranced but dazzled she looks down away from the confusion and beauty of it all. Only to see that the stones she walks on are made of marble. The softest white marble with pale rust coloured splashes through the depths. Almost like artery's running through alabaster skin!
     Gathering her wits about her she resolutely moves on, ignoring the wonders surrounding her. After a while she comes to the end of the avenue and enters an enormous plaza. Paved in the same stone the square recedes into the distance, so large that the opposite side is indistinct, seen through the warm, hazy air. In the middle of the plaza stands a building. Short and squat in comparison to those she has passed it looks more inviting, more to her size.
     As she crosses the marble square she realises she can hear her music. It is the first sound she has heard and it seems to be coming from the building. For a slight moment she feels concern. The music is calling her on, to the building? She's sure of it. Why? Why? Then as the volume builds, she forgets her momentary worry and marches forward.
     The building isn't quite as small as it seemed. Standing at the foot of the flight of steps running up to the huge, central door she realises that it was only it's gracelessness and squatness that gave the impression of diminished size, that plus the distance. She feels as if she has walked for hours but checking the sun gives no indication, as its position is indistinct through the haze. Taking a moment to gather herself she sits on one of the steps and looks around her.
     She can see the avenue that she walked down, now seeming an impossible distance away across the empty plaza. The beautiful, soaring buildings look just as impressive from here but somehow seem to be 'right' now. Their unbelievable shapes and heights, with their flying spans and bridges look planned and quite simply perfect. Not so alien after all.
     Facing the building once more she looks at the steps, realising that they have been carved out of much larger steps. Large enough to be almost terraces. Slowly she makes her way upwards towards the door and the music. It seems to be made of brass or bronze, or -surely not! It couldn't be gold, could it? It's tarnished and dull and Miranda has never paid much attention to such things. The doors are closed. But that hardly registers. They are both covered in panels. In each panel there is a carving. Every animal she can think of is here plus a few she's only before now imagined: bears, cats, dogs, birds, rats, horses and the imagined Gryphons, serpents, unicorns and harpies. It is too much to take in. Like the gate carving, each is done in minute detail, so precise and lifelike. They are astounding, but the centre panel is the one that catches her eye.
     It is split down the middle - one half on each door. On the left hand door is another magical, wondrous dragon. On the right hand - a man! A human, of indistinct age but definitely human. Strong, patrician features stare out at Miranda. The eyes compelling and welcoming and. She reaches out to touch the door and as she does the music swells to a crescendo and.
     ...She wakes up, startled, and looks around her in confusion. What was that? Was I dreaming? Or? Oh My God! The fire has gone out, the room in darkness except for the 24hour news station that is on the telly through the night. She looks at her watch - it is 4:49am. I wasn't there for that long. It only seems like maybe half an hour. Then she remembers how far she walked down the avenue and gives a rueful laugh. Always could lose track of time watching the world go by... A shiver runs down her spine. But that wasn't my world, was it! Pushing the answer away she gets up and goes to make a coffee and reaches for a cigarette. Disturbed, cold and feeling very much alone, Miranda once more sits by the now cold and dark fire. This time watching the television with avid concentration, the sound far too high, smoking cigarette after cigarette with the determination not to fall asleep and dream again.
     After an hour or so has passed Miranda yawns and decides to go to bed. The reality of her recent experience has been forced back into the depths of the subconscious and she is quite happy now in the knowledge that it was all a silly dream. Like the others, probably brought on by stress. Settling into bed she fades into a deep sleep and so there is no one to hear the faint strains of music coming from downstairs.
     Monday dawns bright and crisp with a slight frost on the bedroom windows. A little early for the last days of September but then October is only a day away. The weather is taking a turn for the worse and so Miranda dresses up warm in jeans and a jumper.
     The day is boring. Reading by the fire, watching daytime telly, dusting, hoovering, and changing the bed linen: the usual Monday chores, so boring. Late in the afternoon the tedium's lifted for a short while by a phone call from Joyce. Mira's irrepressible friend manages to lift her spirits by regaling her with her son's latest mischief. Little Billy, Joyce's youngest at four years old, had been poorly and missed the start of his first proper school year. He had been to pre-school, for a half day week, for six months and quite enjoyed it so Joyce hadn't foreseen any problems with full time school. She had taken him in just before 9am and collected him just after 3pm. She told Mira that she had asked him how he had like his new class and new teacher? He'd said that they were okay. 'Great' Joyce thought. Then it came... She had made some comment about that being good because he could see them all again tomorrow. Billy had looked are her aghast and then explained very slowly, to ensure she understood, that 'yes, he had liked it but he'd done it for a day and didn't expect he'd be going back'! 'But I've been to school Mummy!' as if the use of the past tense would explain it all! Joyce said that this argument was still going on with Billy and she was dreading getting him up for school tomorrow. This all had Miranda in stitches.
     "Rather you that me, pet" she laughed. "I would love to be there at breakfast tomorrow!" She can't catch her breath for laughing so hard.
     "Thanks for the show of solidarity," Joyce sounds extremely frayed around the edges. "You're about as much use as Alf! He just sat and laughed too! And God help me if the other kids get wind of this - they'll just egg him on, you know what they're like!"
     "Can't you enlist Betty and Jean's help? They're old enough to understand aren't they?"
     "Well, maybe. It's a risk though. Things like this can be really funny when you're only 9 and 7! Oh help! He's so stubborn. I don't want to force him and put him off school, but if I have to I will." She was really starting to sound exasperated, not at all like Joyce.
     "Hey, I've got an idea. Try bribery! Tell him that is he goes all this week his Aunt Miranda will come and read his class a story on Friday. I'll swing it with Rose. She'll understand."
     "Oh you angel." Joyce jumps at the idea. "I'll go tell him now, before the others get home and stir him up. Thank you. I'll call you back, probably tomorrow ok? Got to go. Bye. Love you." With that Joyce rings off leaving Mira feeling slightly flustered. The life her friend leads would exhaust her in two days she was sure. Anyway, at least she's been able to help so that isn't too bad. Ha, what a life!
     After that the day goes well. A nice meal with a glass of wine, some jazz on the radio, then her favourite discussion programme on the television. So after a hot bath Mira goes up to bed with a light heart and good thoughts.
     The dream that night is different: a lot stranger than the others. She wakes, listening. Straining her hearing convinced she has heard something. After waiting a few moments and hearing nothing more she decides she should just go and check downstairs, make sure all the windows and doors are locked. Dimly it registers that she must be dreaming and looking back at the bed she sees her soundly sleeping body! This sends a shiver down her spine but strangely doesn't frighten her. Taking her dressing gown off the back of the door and shrugging into it, she makes her way downstairs, and into the living room.
     The fire is lit. I'm sure I didn't do that. Then she notices the high backed armchair has been moved closer to the fire, opposite her own comfy chair.
     Come in my dear and do sit down, a soft, silvery voice comes from the depths of the chair. Curiously, though startled, Mira does as she's told.
     Sitting in her high backed chair is the most striking woman she can ever remember seeing. Pure silver hair, falling in shimmering waves, reaches her lap. A face at once delicate and yet strong gazes out from beneath the hair. Eyes soft summer blue, high cheekbones, generous mouth and slightly pointed chin with a strong jaw make the most wondrous sight. Yet, she's not quite human, that she can tell. The eyes slightly too large, the jaw too angular, the nose just a little too straight. All features just a little too perfect. And then there is her body. Well, it wasn't there! There was only a shimmering shadow of form, exhausting to the eyes, forcing you to look away, look up into the face.
     Mira realises she's been sitting saying nothing for some time, just gazing at this apparition.
     "Erm, who... what... are you?" Realising this was very blunt, "I'm sorry, it's just that you've startled me." That sounded weak and pathetic. Get a grip girl; she's not going to bite. I hope. Weak laughter - then shockingly...
     It's all right my child. I don't bite. Gentle laughter, this time coming from the visitor. Yes, I can hear your thoughts and you can hear mine. It's so much quicker really. Now, now, concentrate, you're getting confusing. Stop babbling!
     Mira realises her thoughts have been flitting to and fro like a startled butterfly. This was obviously interfering with the mind speech. Hmm, interesting, was all she thought before concentrating once more.
     ... centrate. I can't read you if you don't. Ahhh, that's better. Now. How much have you grasped?
     Again Mira's thoughts start flying. All of it: the dreams, the music, and the increase in her appetite?
     No, no please try harder. Look at me, into my eyes. The woman leans forward. That's it, better, much better.
     Somehow looking deep into the pools of blue helps. I wonder if I'm being hypnotised? She couldn't help the brief thought.
     Haaa, hah, ha, ha very good. No, of course you're not. We are just going to talk for a little while, that's all. But I don't have too long. Now, let me explain.
     The visitor sits back in the chair, seemingly settling in, getting comfy - even though Mira can't see her body, that is what she seems to be doing, so she does the same. She feels relaxed, happy and perfectly at her ease. A small part of her wonders at this but then the apparition starts to "talk".
     My name is Li'ranna, well anyway that will do as my name for now. I am from a very ancient race of people, so ancient in fact that we don't really have a name. Oh mankind has named us many things over the years, but we don't have a name. Do you understand?
     At Mira's vague nod Li'ranna continues.
     We have lived for many years in relative harmony; we have had our troubles but nothing serious. Not until now. We are now facing the greatest threat to our people ever. Someone has stolen the Orb! At this she sighs and seems to shrink into herself with grief. We never imagined it could happen. It wasn't guarded because all revered it. It was the centre, the cornerstone of our society. We all needed it. It was inconceivable that something like this could happen, but then it did. Twenty of your years ago someone stole the Orb. We were bereft, then a glimmer of hope. I discovered that I could make contact, as I am now, with your people and I started my search.
     Mira looks at Li'ranna, trying to understand. Trying to decide if all this can possibly be real?
     I don't have much more time. I am weakening. The important thing is, we need you. You could be our last chance. So we decided to contact you. The music, the dreams, it has all been me... She looks away, toward the fire, as if looking at someone else... I have to go! We need you Miranda. We need you. Don't worry; you'll know what to do when the time comes. But now sleep. Dream but don't remember. Sleep...
     For a second she shimmers in the air and then - she is gone.
     And Miranda finds herself pulling up the covers of her bed, snuggling down, yawning, and falling peacefully asleep.

***

     The sound of the telephone crashes into her sleep. Jarring Mira into instant wakefulness. What time is it? What's wrong? She reached for the bedside handset.
     "Hello? Who's that?" The anxiety in her voice is plain.
     "It's me, Joyce. Are you okay pet? You sound half asleep?"
     "Well, I was!" A little annoyed now. "What are you doing calling in the middle of the night? Is everyone all right?"
     "Middle of the night? Ha, you're kidding right? It's 4pm Mira - in the afternoon," Joyce pauses. "Are you sure you're okay?"
     "Yeah, er fine. I just woke up that's all - must have slept through. Tired I guess," mind racing Mira tries to pacify Joyce. "Honest, I must just be really tired, not been sleeping well lately so, well, you know - just tired." Realising she's rambling a quick subject change is in order. "How's Billy? Get him to school on time?"
     "That's what I'm calling for, God my mind must be going! Yeah, worked like a charm and he's even decided to go again tomorrow, it's sand-pit day on Wednesday." More like herself again, Mira and Joyce share a good laugh at the fickleness of young children.
     "Anyway, for whatever reason at least he's going - but I'm afraid you're still held to that story. How's about a meal out tomorrow, say 1pm. My treat. As a way of saying 'thank you'? Go on. Be a devil."
     "Oh, I don't know. I'm not much in the way of company right now you know. Bit tired and ratty. Sure you want to risk it?"
     "Course I do silly. What about the 'Three Jollies' in Gaitford? Great, I'll see you there then." With that and a cheerful goodbye Joyce rings off, before Mira can say a word. She really is like a cyclone, even on the phone!
     Ok then you. Don't you think it's well past the time you should be out of bed?

***

     The Three Jolly Sailors or Three Jollies as it's known, is a quaint village public house on the outskirts of town. Both the pub and the village have been swallowed by the town and are now just one of its outlying estates. It is only five minutes by car from Joyce's shop but even so, Mira gets there before her.
     "I'll have a pint of orange juice please Steph. Oh and a half of lager and lime for Joyce, when she gets here." she smiles at the barmaid and finds a table.
     Looking round the pub Mira feels really good with herself. It's as if a cloud has been lifted and everything is suddenly all right in the world. The sun is shinning through the ancient small paned windows and catching reflections of all the polished brasses handing from the walls. She can see the dust hanging in the air like a gauze curtain, floating on an imperceptible breeze. It all seems so very British somehow, reassuring and comfortable. It was the smell of the beer in the air and the polish that's been used for countless generations on the old oak tables. Lovely.
     "Hey Mira, what are you having?" Joyce blusters in with her usual whirlwind following, making the dust billow around her head.
     "I've got you a half in, Steph'll get it." Joyce moves over to the bar and spends a few minutes talking to Steph while she pulls her drink.
     "Ooooh, I needed that," she flops down onto the bench next to Mira. "So what are you looking so happy about all of a sudden?"
     "Do I usually look so miserable?" Slightly hurt, Mira sounds anxious.
     "Well, no. It's just that you've been really tired lately and it's shown, that's all. You don't look tired now. Did you get some sleep last night then? No dreams?"
     "Yeah, I had a great night's sleep. Dreams? No, I don't think so. Why, should I have?"
     "Uhh, you know. These weird dreams you've been having, the ones about the strange place? You've been having them for weeks Mira, come on you must remember them?" Joyce is starting to feel a little strange now. The look of total incomprehension on Mira's face is making her feel as if she's the one who's been imagining things!
     "Oh, I was probably just sleeping badly because Paul is away. You know I can't sleep in that big empty bed on my own." Looking closely at Joyce, Mira realises that she was serious. But why should she be thinking I'm having weird dreams? I don't understand. Deciding to put it behind them Mira asks Joyce about Little Billy.
     "He's doing fine now. Really does seem to have settled in well. No problem with the other kids or the teacher. I should thank myself lucky after Monday night's fiasco." The atmosphere between them returns to normal and Joyce seems willing to let the matter drop.
     They have a lovely meal together and chat about women's things. Like politics and the mess the government was making of the school system! Then they went their separate ways, with just one last parting shot from Joyce.
     "You know pet, if you ever need me for anything I'm always here for you. You do know that don't you?" Joyce's sincerity slightly embarrasses Mira who just hugs her close and whispers 'thank you'.

***

     "Is that you Paul?" Running down the stairs two at a time Mira throws herself into the living room and straight at her husband.
     "Hey, watch the suit!" He pulls back and looks down at her. He has a look on his face that seems to indicate surprise at what he sees. Miranda, usually casually dressed, is done up-to-the-nines! Her hair has been set at the hairdressers, she is wearing a new mauve dress with sling back sandals, and what she hopes is a gorgeous perfume!
     "What's the occasion Randi?"
     "Oh, I am just so glad you're home darling. I've missed you so much. How was your trip? Did the business deal go through okay?" Bubbling with enthusiasm Mira can't hold it in any longer. "I've cooked us a great meal, darling? Your favourite - I'm sure you'll love it. You haven't eaten have you? No? Good, I'll just go set the kitchen table and then we can eat. Oh and I'll tell you about the surprise." Reaching up to kiss Paul on the cheek she rushes into the kitchen and misses the look he gives her.
     Humming happily to herself Mira sets the table with a lovely display of flowers in the centre and tow romantic candles. Calling Paul into the kitchen she serves the first course of Avocado's and Prawns. They eat in silence. Paul finishes first and goes over to the dresser for wine glasses and opens a bottle of wine for them. The main course of Salmon Steaks in a Lime sauce had been served before the silence was broken.
     "So what's this 'BIG' surprise you have for me?"
     The disparagement in his voice had Mira staring at him for a moment. "It's not much really, I just thought that ... well, that after your hard trip away you could do with a nice relaxing treat. I know how tired these things make you so I thought�" again a pause, "I've booked us into a top class hotel for the weekend for some relaxation and pampering. We'll be together, just us, for the whole weekend! It'll be good for us." There, it had all come out in a rush but at least she had said it!
     He sits there, open mouthed - seeming to think for a while.
     "Er, yes, that will be lovely Randi, away for the whole weekend? Where are we going and when?"
     "It's a surprise darling, I told you that. We leave tomorrow night after work and come home on Sunday." Noticing his reticence, "You'll love it Paul. It's a great place. It even has its own pool and health club, a gym, massage facilities, Jacuzzi - everything." Her excitement is infectious.
     "Okay Randi. I'm sure it will be great. I'll have to let Cathy know where to contact me of course. But I'll phone her when we get there so as not to spoil the surprise."
     The condescension in his voice hurts, but at least he's agreed to go. He even said it would be great. Holding that thought close Mira finishes her dinner, drinking more than usual.
     While Miranda clears the dinner dishes away, Paul goes upstairs for a bath. Finishing up quickly she follows him with some wine and two glasses. As she approaches the bathroom she thinks she hears Paul talking. Stepping slowly to the door she hardly breathes as she hears him saying "can't be helped." A pause, then "look, I can't speak now. I'll call you next week and we'll" Just then the wine glasses knock against the door as Mira's hand shakes. He stops talking.
     "Are you there, Randi?"
     Taking a deep breath, "Yes darling. Just coming." She steps into the bedroom with a bright but forced smile. Nodding at the mobile on top of his neat pile of clothes, "Who was that?"
     "Oh just Cathy checking I'd got home all right." His piercing gaze fixed her to the spot, "Who did you think it would be at this time of night?"
     "Oh no one. It's very good of Cathy to worry so." A small laugh, "She really does look after you. Mother's you almost."
     Looking slightly relieved, Paul agrees, laughs, and takes a drink.
     "I'll just get ready for bed then darling. You won't be long will you?"
     "You had better go to bed, Randi. I need a good hot soak after the flight. I'm liable to be in here a while. Don't worry. I won't wake you when I come to bed. Sweet dreams." Kissing her quickly on the forehead he takes the bottle and a glass over to the bath and climbs in.
     Was that really Cathy on the phone? Who else could it be? Oh stop being a silly girl. He's just got back from a tiring business trip. He's bound to want to soak the aches out. Stop being paranoid. Nothing is going on. You need a good nights sleep and then you will have a great time at The Redmond.

     By the time Paul came to bed his wife was fast asleep. Watching her for a time he eventually decides that she hasn't got a clue. How could she? She is so innocent and trusting. He feels a wave of fondness wash over him. Maybe this weekend would be bearable after all. She does have a gorgeous body - and he may as well take advantage of the situation. With a smirk on his face he gets into bed, stokes her thigh, rolls over and is instantly asleep.

Shangrana's Power: Part Two

© 2001 Christi Newby