A Journal of my adventures in the world I inhabit while I'm asleep. |
I've traveled a long way through the hills to reach our old family castle. I found my way here from an old map my grandmother gave me. Once I arrive, I find the castle in ruins. Local villagers have gutted the place, stripped away many of the stones to build their own hovels. Some of them are living behind the castle walls in the part of the structure that is still intact. I ask if any of the Chateneufs are still in residence. "No, Your Majesty, they seem to have all vanished!" an old man answers sarcastically. I feel no anger or resentment towards the squatters now inhabiting the castle. I was told by kin that my relatives had long ago abandoned the place, though some folk said they had been run off by a revolt of the commoners. I pull a wineskin from beneath my green tunic and offer a sip to the old man. “This place once belonged to those of my blood. I realize I have no claims to it, their having left long ago. But do you mind, good sir, if I stay here for a few days?” “Suit yourself; there are plenty of spare rooms, although they aren’t much furnished. And the roof has a tendency to leak, but only when it rains…” he says. I set out my bedroll in one of the rooms, and soon I’m fast asleep. I’m awakened by a thunderclap, and I watch through one of the openings as the storm rages. There is little rain, mostly wind, lightning, and thunder. Strange shapes are materializing in the overgrown courtyard below, large sculptures with geodesic shapes, and books falling from the clouds. The storm passes and the sun rises. I walk down the stairs from my room and into the courtyard. I pick up one of the books that has fallen from the sky, it is bound in brown leather. The book contains short articles about people. I leaf through until I spot a page about my sister. It’s obviously her, but the details are wrong. The man she supposedly married in this biography is not her husband in real life. The old man is sitting on a marble bench, reading a similar book. I remark to him: “This is a strange book, I recognize one of the people in it, but the facts aren’t quite right.” “They come from a parallel world… Many of these things appear when the storms pass through. Sculptures of renown by men whose names you almost recognize, biographies of unknown Kings…” “And what are you reading?” I ask. “Have a look,” he says, handing me the book. I start to read, it’s a story about me, but not really. In this book I’m a criminal, a low cutpurse, and the local gendarmes are offering a small reward to anyone who will inform them of my whereabouts. “Gee, I am in a bit of trouble in the world of this book’s origin,” I say, chuckling as I hand the book back to the old man. “No, that is the book of this world,” he replies. “But I’m no criminal!” “It matters not to me, so long as I get my reward,” he answers. I look up and see a troop of armed guards rapidly approaching. I shout back at the old man: “But I’m innocent!” “You can tell that to the King’s men. Whether they believe you or not is none of my concern,” he replies. Fear takes over and I start to run. I cross the courtyard and stumble down a mossy stone staircase that leads to the river. Once in the water, I find myself running through groups of peasants who are scavenging through the river trash for anything of value. Filthy, emaciated, dressed in rags, these are the lowest of the low. I look back and see my pursuers are still a ways behind, but they are tracking me as I run. I duck behind a rock wall and strip off my green suede tunic. I offer it to one of the river folk: “I will give you this in exchange for your jersey,” I say. He can’t believe his luck, he immediately agrees, and we exchange garments. I immediately put on the filthy brown shirt, and reach down into the riverbed, pulling up handfulls of mud. I smear the muck on my face, arms, and pants, completing my disguise. I shuffle along in the shallows alongside the other peasants, as if looking for “treasures”. The King’s guard passes by on horseback. They do not spot me, my disguise has worked… |