Dreaming of Beauty

Last week Deirdre realised that black, red and white held some mysterious meaning for her…

I sat up in bed, gasping, and looked around.  The house lay still, in deep blackness, except for a few stray moonbeams drifting in through the shutters.  I could hear the slight breathing of my foster parents where they lay in their own sleeping quarters.

I slipped from my bed and went to the window, drawing in deep breaths of the frosty air, trying to shake the cobwebs of the dream from my mind.  But did I really want to get rid of them?

I understood now.

In my dream I was standing on a peaceful green plain, outside a large hillfort.  The sun shone and everything was beautiful.  And there he was, standing before me.   A young man with hair as black as the raven, cheeks as red as blood, and skin as white as snow.  The most handsome young man I had ever seen.  He smiled at me and spoke, although I could not hear the words.

My cheeks began to heat as I stood by the window, and I began to glow.  I liked him immediately.  But it was something more than that, something else that left me so wakeful.

This was the meaning of that shadow in my mind yesterday.  I don’t know how I know that, but I do.  Something is linking us together, I’m sure of it.

Why should my foster parents, the king, and the whole of Ireland tell me how my life will go?  All my life I’ve done what I’m told, accepted who they are making me to be, but why shouldn’t I have a chance to decide my fate?  I don’t know what my future is, exactly, but I know it definitely doesn’t lie in the arms of the king.  I may make mistakes, out there by myself, but at least they will be my own.  They will help to define me as my own person, as much as the good things.  But how can I get out of this marriage?

At least I know where to begin my journey; with this unknown young man in my dream.