Dream of Lights

I awoke this morning, unsure if last evenings festivities were just a dream or if in some magic realm, they were reality. The music still resonated in my head and the swirling mass of colorful dancers passed before my eyes again and again, a twirling potpourri of light and shape. But there, neatly folded on the chair, was the silk shirt and pants that I had worn ... so it was true. I recalled dancing with the handsome Lavengro and my feet twitched in anticipation of more dancing. I stretched out on the bed, knowing it was time for me to get up but not ready yet to disrupt the memory.

A knock on the caravan door brought me into the moment. It was Jolina bringing me my breakfast. The tray was elegantly laid out with a colorful placemat and matching serviette. A beautifully brown egg sat in a china eggcup decorated with bunches of bluebells. Butter melted into the dark brown toast and a container of orange marmalade waited to release its rich flavor and set my taste buds to dancing. The aroma wafting from the silver coffee pot was enough to awaken even the sleepiest of revelers. If this is what they mean by the morning after, I thought. I could get used to it in a minute.

Jolina stacked the riotously colored pillows behind me so I could sit comfortably propped to enjoy my morning repast.

The festival was, they had told me, to last until my birthday on the twenty-second day of November. How did I come to be the one so honored? I was being treated as royalty despite being birthed a peasant.

After enjoying my breakfast I put the tray aside and got up and went to the door of the caravan. Holding my bluebell adorned coffee cup in both hands, I surveyed the central clearing. It was quiet now. The flames had been extinguished in the beautifully carved pumpkins … no jack-o- lanterns here … these were works of art exquisitely carved. They told stories of the universe and of fairy tales, princes and princesses, and magic creatures such as unicorns.

The main fire, I noticed, smoldered … its coals still alive, ready to be fanned into flame later. Although the camp had been crowded with revelers last night, there were few around this morning. Most, I assumed, were resting after such a night of frivolity.

I retreated into the interior of the caravan to dress and get ready to take my morning walk. This was just the beginning of a celebration, my celebration, and I was so honored.

Vi