Chapter 8: Dreams

Dreams transport one each night to the places needed by the soul
to heal the battering it endures during each day.

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

"At last! At first, I thought the bloody train would never arrive and then I began to think it would never leave. You can tell that no member of the aristocracy is a passenger on this train by the fact that it is running two and one-quarter hours late. Well, I suppose I should not grumble too loudly. At least we were able to use the time to procure sustenance for our famished bodies. Speaking of which, Erik, pass the bottle here or at the very least be a good lad and refill my cup."

Helen grumbled. Erik and Christine's eyes met over the old woman's head and they exchanged an indulgent smile over her belligerent behavior.

"If this is the way people act once they have lifted one too many mugs, I do believe I shall stick to tea." Christine muttered.

"Hear! Hear!" Erik quietly intoned before he added. "I do believe that the expression is 'being too deep in one's cups, ' but the gist of both statements boils down to the same sentiment."

Christine could not suppress a giggle and Helen shot her an indignant glance before extending her hand to Erik.

"Come now, boy! Pass the bottle! I earned a drink or two after that walk."

The young man lifted the bottle from the basket, uncorked it and handed it to Helen. The old woman promptly tipped the bottle into her mug and its contents noisily sloshed out.

"Fuck!"

Helen's normally melodic voice lowered into a snarl as drops of the burgundy splattered on her shirtsleeve. Christine gasped and Erik winced at the volume she spoke, but the old woman seemed oblivious or she ignored the two young people's reaction. She held the bottle out to Erik and he swiftly returned it to the basket.

Christine tried unsuccessfully to hide her yawn, but was too tired to try and fight off the call of slumber.

"I think I will try to take a nap." Christine announced.

Erik smiled at her and nodded.

"That sounds like an excellent idea to me as well. Helen, if you need anything, just give me a little shake. Otherwise, I am fairly certain I shall sleep for the entire trip. Is that all right with you?"

"I do not need a bleeding nanny, Erik! You know how I detest it when you hover. I just need to take off these bloody shoes and rest my feet for a bit. You two go to sleep! I will be just fine!"

Helen lifted her hand and waggled it dismissively at the pair as she lifted her cup with the other to take a sip. She failed to notice the light, which glinted off the bracelet around her wrist. The bracelet gave off the tiniest of twinkling sparkles; the flash caught Erik and Christine's eyes and burrowed deep into their minds and souls. Then, as if placed under an enchantment, in an instant, the young man and woman fell into a deep sleep. Their bodies fell limply, rested in boneless heaps propped up by the firm benches and walls of the train compartment. Helen struggled forward and wrestled one-handed with the laces of her shoes for a moment, before acknowledging defeat. She slumped back into her seat, clutching the cup between her ample bosoms and closed her eyes. Soon, a soft snore began to issue from the slit of her mouth.

Except for the quiet whistling of the old woman's breath and the clacking of the train's wheels upon the tracks, silence reigned in the compartment.

It was at that moment when a delicate stream of glittering light moved from the bracelet. It swept through the air, encasing first Christine and then Erik in its insubstantial cocoon. The soft radiance remained and pulsed in time with the rise and fall of each breath brought to the two dreamers held in its embrace.

Christine sat upon a large carpet. The intricate design as familiar to her as the sight of her own hands. She relished the softness of it and cherished the beauty of the maroon swirls, the crème spots, the powder blue lines, the pink roses and the midnight blue of its border. She marveled in the knowledge that such a seemingly sturdy rug could be made of such a delicate fiber as silk, but she knew it was true. She sat and she waited. She waited. She waited for him to come to her. And, as she always did when she waited for him, she sang. The songs were always different, yet, always the same in that they always spoke of love lost or unrequited love. Tears burned beneath her eyelids. It had been such a long time since she last sat and waited for him. So long a time since she last looked upon him and sang for him.

"My God! How I have missed him! Even though he irritates me to no end at times, I have longed to see him, craved to hear the sound of his voice and yearned for the touch of his hands upon my flesh. I miss his amber eyes burning into mine ... I wonder if he has missed me or thought of me at all."

And then, she felt him. He was with her. She knew that he stood in the doorway of the room behind her. The tall, lanky boy with the tear-streaked face and lonely eyes. The boy that possessed the voice of an angel and the temper of a demon. He was her gentle playmate one moment and a harsh taskmaster the next. She turned her head, so she could catch a glimpse of him in the periphery of her vision. She wished to fulfill her need to allow her eyes to fully explore the boy, but instead, found a man standing in the boy's place. A man with the same glowing amber eyes and twisted face as the boy she once knew. The unexpected change of the boy into a man caused her eyes to drop involuntarily to her lap and she let out a small shriek of surprise and shock. Her body was no longer hers, but belonged to a woman. She leapt to her feet, her hands running over the firm high mounds of her breasts and down over the flat expanse of her stomach. Her hands slid out to the sides of her tiny waist before moving down and out over the gentle swell of her hips. Her hands froze as she realized that the man watched her, as she silently explored her body. The heat of his gaze penetrated her shock and brought a corresponding flush to her cheeks, which rapidly spread down her neck, across her chest, ending at the tips of her hardened nipples. The two nubs poked noticeably outward from her simple silk shift and her blush deepened further. Her eyes slipped to the floor and her head lowered in shame and embarrassment.

"He must think me a wanton creature to touch my body in such a manner. It was just such a shock! I am a woman now and he is a man. Is he still my Erik? Oh, please! Let it be..."

And, then a gentle hand touched her chin and raised her head. Amber eyes met hers and she knew they were falling. Their minds plummeting and twisting, diving and turning together like two motes floating through the air on a lazy summer's afternoon. After a moment, he surprised her as he withdrew from the spiraling vortex created when their eyes met. She fell alone, but could see him watching her from far above. His amber eyes burned gold allowing her easily to read the fear in their depths. The whirling ceased and she once again felt the solid floor beneath her feet.