My Trip to the Library

“I..I’ll be right there,” I called out. 

After a few seconds I heard a knocking farther down the hallway as Sister Sara beckoned another guest to supper.

Still disoriented from what I now realized was just a bad dream, I sat up and moved over to my writing table.  I wanted to jot down some notes about my dream before it became – like most of my dreams – a watery blend of nonsense, but there was no pen, only the ink and the paper.  Then I remembered I’d stashed several of my colored pens into my suitcase, so I rummaged through my bag until I found them, of course on the very bottom. After I wrote what I could remember, I felt a bit of my anxiety alleviated.  Who needs a therapist when you have a pen?

I went to look in the mirror before I moved on to dinner, but I realized there was none in my room.  Just as well, I’m not too fond of the fixtures anyway, and there was no one in the abbey whom I needed to impress.  So, I just ran my hands through my hair, straightened my shirt, and left for the great dining hall. 

About ten guests – all female – and six nuns aligned both sides of the long wooden dining table. Both ends remained unoccupied even though places were set at each.  I figured that one place was for the abbess, but I wasn’t sure for whom the other seat was reserved.  (Another question for my list.)  Before we served the food, Sister Sara led us in a lengthy prayer.  At her close I quickly and quietly added my own, “Dear God, please help me sort out this mess.”

As we passed around the dishes, I ladled small servings onto my plate for two reasons.  One, I’m not much of a fish-eater, so the main course didn’t appeal to me.  Even the mashed potatoes and green beans looked plastic. And two, my nerves were still reacting to the dream.  I really hate how something so unreal can impact me for hours, sometimes a whole day, even though I keep telling myself, “It’s not real; it’s not real.  It was just a dream.” 

I knew I needed to eat something just so I could maintain some stability in my mood.  I learned that lesson long ago.  So, I managed to force down a few forkfuls of each fare.  The women seated around me probably thought I was some type of mental patient because I said nothing and just smiled here and there, probably not even at the right moments, but I had neither the desire nor the energy to engage in small talk.  Unsure of the protocol regarding when we could leave the table, I waited until one of the nuns got up before I excused myself, which caused a few stares from some of the guests.  I didn’t know whether it was the fact that I spoke or that I was leaving before everyone else.  I didn’t stay for the verdict.

I needed to find the library, which turned out to be just a few doors down from the dining hall.  Surprisingly the abbey’s library outrivaled our local one back home.  Reading must be a favorite past time here.  There were at least ten stacks of fiction, and thirty dedicated to non-fiction.  What I didn’t know was where to start.  And asking the librarian seemed out of the question.  Once I explained to her my problem she’d probably divert my attention and then run to find the local psychologist.  Searching the computer was out.  No technology, only the old card-catalogue system.   I looked at the ancient filing case, which brought me back to my elementary school days, and pulled open the top drawer, unleashing a musty scent that reminded me of my grandmother’s attic.  The reminiscing triggered related thoughts of homemade chocolate chip cookies and the constant click-clacking of my grandmother’s knitting needles, but a cough from somewhere behind me, unfortunately, brought me back to the present. 

I closed the drawer and sat in a nearby seat.  I needed a plan and opening every drawer and reviewing every card entry was not the most efficient one.  So I considered what I knew.  I knew it all started with the glasses, and Sister Sara identified the first person I saw as Prometheus, a Greek god.  And from what I remembered, the Greek myths contained many a bizarre character, like Cronus who swallowed his children whole and Medusa whose hair resembled a snake pit.  The three-headed woman in my next vision who walked a three-headed dog, and the three-headed monster in my dream could easily fit into the peculiar category.  Perhaps all these visions connected somehow to Greek mythology.  At least it was a place to start.  

I approached the card catalogue a bit more confidently this time and pulled out the drawer for Gr – Gy.  I found multiple titles concerning Greek Myths, but I decided to narrow my search to the illustrated ones.  I needed pictures to speed the process along.   The cards indicated the library owned several of these picture books, and I hoped at least one of them was on the shelf.  

Turns out, they all were.  I pulled four of them off the shelf and took them over to a nearby table.  Thinking the largest book contained the most pictures I started with The Illustrated Greek Mythology, about the size of a small suitcase, and just flipped through its pages.  An image caught my attention as its page fell onto the next. So, I thumbed slowly through the previous pages until I found, just like in the glasses, a picture of a three-headed woman in a flowing gown, walking a three-headed dog.  Several pounds of worry just fell to the ground. 

Since I’d been standing up until now, I pulled up a seat and began reading about this woman/goddess named Hecate.  I wanted to take notes, but realized I had neither pen nor paper, but I remembered seeing some half-sheets and pencils near the card-catalogue.  With those in hand I went back to the book and noted the following:

·    Goddess of the crossroads

·    aka the Moon Goddess, Goddess of the Underworld

·    Ruled over earth, sea and sky

·    Could see the past, present, and future

·     Appears when the moon shines.

·    Also reputed evil witch?

·    Often portrayed with three heads – dog, horse, and lion!!!

More pounds shed.  Okay, so I still didn’t know exactly what the vision meant, but considering Hecate stood at the crossroads, I suspected she represented some decision I’d have to make in the near future regarding what direction I needed to take.  Sister Sara said Prometheus, my first vision, symbolized my need to sacrifice or relinquish something.  Now, the way I saw it I had three questions for the abbess, which I wrote on the back of my paper:

·      What should I relinquish?

·      What crossroads will I face?

·      What’s with the handsome young boy?

Since I wouldn’t be meeting with the abbess until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, I replaced the books on the shelf, returned to my room, prepared for bed and slept a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

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