I awaken to find myself leaning against a trilithon in Stonehenge. I know instinctively exactly where I am though I can see nothing. The air is cool but not uncomfortable, and everything is silent. It is pitch black though there are flickering stars above and I find to my total lack of surprise I am wearing a head torch! I turn it on and look to my right. I see a small brown bird with white flecks on its wings, a bit like a sparrow or starling but neither. It has huge soulful eyes that are looking deeply into me and I know somehow it is a little afraid of me. I move my hand carefully towards the bird as a gesture of love and friendship, asking it not to be afraid, that I mean it no harm at all; but it backs away, and I see Lisa curled up asleep against the adjacent stone, robed all in black. The bird hops over Lisa’s knee and peers back at me with those soulful eyes. Lisa remains motionless, deeply asleep, curled up in the foetus position, inert yet quietly and visibly breathing.
Somehow I feel deeply hurt by the birds rejection and turn away, looking straight ahead into the enveloping darkness, darkness so deep I can almost touch it’s velvet texture; and as I turn back, in the light from my torch, an otter appears. Sleek and silky, showing no fear or concern whatsoever, it jumps into my lap and curls up there contentedly, mewing quietly as I stroke its beautiful sheen soft fur.
Suddenly it’s just before dawn – the sky the colour of deep lapis lazuli becoming a lighter blue with a pink glow to the thin cloud that streaks the north eastern horizon . I’m at some sort of gathering area with loads of folk waiting for me. I can’t see Harrier or Lisa and I know there are others waiting in a different place, but can’t find them. I feel slightly breathless, out of my depth, though I don’t know why.
I try to get everyone together because I know we are late, and as I set off leading this procession I know others without tickets are joining from everywhere. I tell everyone they must have their ticket or they won’t get in. I’m met with blank stares, sad faces or the occasional incredulous looks. Some folk are in bright coloured clothes, others in deerskin robes with metal symbols I don’t recognise sewn into them; yet others are in heavy cloth cloaks. Some are wearing bizarre hats I can’t even begin to describe while some have the most outlandishly wonderful hairstyles. I find myself a little intimidated by so many individuals all watching me, following me, waiting in my every word.
We reach a heavy medieval looking door/gate in a massive old stone and flint wall. The thick oak door is studded with huge iron hinges, though the young attendant opens it without a word with a big smile on her face, as if expecting such a strange looking procession. I thank her and we walk through the entry.
Just beyond the wall I can see the last few figures of another procession being led into the stones and I know that it is being led by Harrier and Lisa. I try to catch up with them as they disappear into the ancient Temple, but the path seems to keep diverting me further and further away. No matter how hard I try to follow them and make my way to the Stones I am unable to do so. The pathway seems alive, to have a mind of its own, and I soon realise that have to see someone else before going to the stones. The sun is coming up, just beginning to break the horizon and I know the ceremony is beginning but I have to get some sort of permission from us unseen, unknown presence; and all the time more and more folk are arriving, joining the throng that is merrily following me.
Eventually I know I have been accepted, Continue reading