The Gathering – Finale

An old flame in the Dreaming wasn’t too happy and had an explosive temper tantrum. I watched the flashover with amusement and wondered what he would try this time. Oh, gee. Phantasms? He’s forgotten where I go to relax, hasn’t he. I’m suddenly in my room, having a violent fit in my bed, while my mother is beating me viciously, while the room is on fire. In a way, I was succumbing to a kind of fit. I was laughing so damn hard, I couldn’t move for a while.

While the apparition continued to burn out of control, I felt a tugging in my innermost. The HBIC was calling me, with a sense of urgency. The finale had come.

I dismissed the illusion and faced my old flame once more. “I haven’t the time to return the favor. So, I’ll just hold on to the owing of it, for now. Maybe I could find someone to hand it off to. I’m sure there’s plenty folk that would like to play this game with you.” He chewed his tongue and looked away. I stood, turned away from him, and stepped between worlds.

Walking into the lobby, a familiar bowl is thrust into my hands. “Here, you found it, you serve it. We can’t do anything with it. It’s still tied to you, somehow.” The rock-like object had transformed into a pale dome of bread dough. I see how it is still tangled up with me, and sever the connection. In seconds, the dough rises and cooks in the bowl, becoming a fragrant loaf of rich, dense, wheat bread. The assembled crowd parts, and I am ushered to the table. Resting Guy, is now sitting at the table, where he is picking at different plates and bowls of food. He is lackluster and slow in movement. A space is made for my bowl, directly in front of him. As I place the bread before him, I tell him, “Eat. All of this. It is from you, and for you. Eat, and regain yourself.”.

As he looks at the bread, I can see a memory playing across his face. He reaches for it with fumbling hands and manages to break off a piece. Stuffing it into his mouth, I am reminded of a babe’s uncoordinated movements. The taste of the bread causes him to exclaim, “Oh!” and his eyes brighten a little. He reaches for the bread again, this time, with a little more coordination. Fisting the second piece and shoving it into his mouth, he looks up at me excitedly. “Mmm!” He ignores all the other food on the table, and focuses on the bread. As he eats, I watch sense and reason develop on his face. He is still greatly uncoordinated, but now he has the heart to engage himself, and the desire to do so. He even picks the crumbs that fell on bowl and table, making sure to eat every last morsel.

He tries to say something to me, but words escape him. I point at the rest of the food on the table. “Eat. All of it. It is from you, and for you. Eat, and regain yourself.” He nods in understanding, and starts eating the other offerings with gusto. As he eats, his cognitive development accelerates. Halfway through the feast, he exclaims, “I know this!”. His first words spoken. Towards the end of the feast, he looks at some of those assembled, points to them, “I know you!”. From the crowd comes sighs of relief. Our efforts have been successful.

I turn to ask the HBIC a question, but I am distracted by the change in the lobby’s decor. No longer featuring the geometric lines and sensual curves of the Art Deco period, the lobby features scenes from Egyptian tombs, complete with faux pillars painted like obelisks. Tut-fever had returned from the 1920’s, covering the lobby with the Egyptian motifs that the American upper class was fascinated with. Turning back to the table, I see several canisters of beer had been placed before feasting man. The canisters looked like stylized canopic jars. The HBIC sees I have noted the change. I raise an eyebrow in askance, but he only smiles in mirth and shakes his head to silence me.

The man has nearly completed his feast, and is now drinking down the different types of beer in obvious delight. He sees me as he raises a jar. He doesn’t recognize me, but puts the jar down as he stares at me. I can see him struggling to identify me. Feeling uncomfortable that I was not quickly identified, and feeling the stares of others suddenly aware of me, I tell him, “Oh no you don’t. Eat every last crumb. Drink every last drop. Many Bothans died to bring you this feast. You can not let their deaths be in vain.” Too late, I realize my usual social deflection skill of bad humor had engaged itself. As I stand red-faced, he complies and resumes drinking his beer. After the embarrassment passes, allowing my hearing to return, I turn to see several of those present had slumped over in peals of laughter and mirth.

I back away from the table and approach the HBIC. “Did I speak out of turn, Sir? I hope I didn’t. I really don’t know what’s expected of me here.” The HBIC doesn’t know the Star Wars reference apparently, as he’s looking at those still chuckling quizzically.

“No, Keri. You spoke at the right time, with the right thing to say. While this is a serious event, a serving of joviality is always welcome.” His words remind me of a friend, and I am content knowing that is one lesson that remained with me after his passing.

I stumble suddenly. The HBIC catches me. “You need to sit down.” I only nod. I am feeling a great lethargy seeping into me. I wonder if the dream is suddenly ending, or if I am being called someplace deeper. The HBIC helps me to a chair. “I’ll call you if something more exciting happens.” I wrinkle my face at him in mirth. Across the lobby, the feasting man is engaging in conversation as he finishes the last of the feast. I close my eyes, and fall into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

~~~

Oh. Hey. I’m awake. What the hell? Take care of biological functions. Try not to throw the clock through the wall. Jot a few notes about the dream so far.

Okay, let’s try this dream thing again…

~~~

Something is shaking my arm. I hear my name gently whispered. “Hey. Keri. It’s time. Wake up.” The speaker chuckles. It’s the chuckling that finally wakes me. Did I wind up the butt of a joke again?

I open my eyes to find the HBIC leaning over me, a faint smile teasing his face. I then realize what the joke was. We both know I’m dreaming, and yet he’s telling me to ‘wake up’. I smile and laugh in answer. “Okay… I’m awake. Ha!” I look around the now empty lobby. There is only me, the HBIC, and the Honored Guest. Everyone else, and everything else is gone. The decor has returned to golden geometric lines and mother of pearl inlaid in alluring curves.

The HBIC reads my face clearly. “The feast is over. Everyone’s efforts have been completed. Except for one. You’re the last. Do you have your keys on you? Of course, you do. Get your keys, Keri. It’s time to send him off.”

I stand to get access to my bag, which I had tucked behind me when I sat down for a deeper sleep. As I stand, the Honored Guest rises from his chair as well. Yes, there is my keyring, with the building’s keys, and the extra keys. I wonder why I have to be the one to unlock the doors. I tuck the ring back into the pouch as he approaches me. It’s clear the feast did him well. He walks in health and the brightness of reason.

“They told me you’re the one that found the piece of me hidden in the Boneyard. I have no idea how that came to be there. I do know enough about that place to know it was not easy for you to retrieve it. Thank you, so very much, for retrieving it.” His speech is quite sincere, his thanks are heartfelt. I smile and mutter something about just doing what had to be done.

He is very familiar to me. I am completely at ease around him, as if I had known him my entire life. And yet, he is unrecognizable to me. I have known him for a long time, since that time where I’ve yet to meet him. The temporal contradiction amuses me. It seems I have a lot to learn about this building, and its function in the Dreaming.

The keys jingle in my pouch, reminding me of the HBIC’s directive. “Why do I have to be the one to open the doors for him? You have a set of keys for yourself, I know!”

The HBIC just smiles and nods, like he was dealing with a recalcitrant teenager. “Surely you’ve noted the people that come here, come from a variety of worlds.” I nod. “But the doors only open to those that have the keys.” I nod again. “Which world the doors open to, is determined by who is unlocking the door.” I freeze. If I unlock the doors, I’ll be giving Honored Guest full access to my world.

My face betrays my concern as the Honored Guest addresses me. “I understand your wariness, Miss. You have the scars of malevolent encounters on you, still. I can understand not wanting to release a possible enemy into your realm. However, I should be the one concerned. Because of what you retrieved from the Boneyard, and how you retrieved it, I will always be vulnerable to you.” I consider the logic, and nod in agreement.

Very well, then. I had committed to seeing this through to the end, after all. I unlock the front doors with ease and push one open. Bright sunlight temporarily blinds me as the sounds of the city beyond flow in. It is spring, and the day’s warmth brings with it the scent of flowers, the laughter of children. It’s a nice day outside. The Honored Guest comes up beside me, basking in the light as he pauses at the door. “Thank you, again, for all you have done. I will not forget what you have done for me.” He steps through the doorway and disappears into the shaft of sunlight.

Well, that’s that, I suppose. I can feel the approach of the day in the Waking. It’s time for me to leave as well. Still holding the door open, I turn to say my farewells to the HBIC. The sunlight has reached halfway into the lobby, striking the HBIC in the legs. I see him, looking down in amusement. I follow his gaze and am surprised. His legs are disappearing into the sunlight, turning into wispy tufts of something like mist. Yet, he doesn’t fall. He looks up at me, still amused, and waits for me to reach a conclusion about what I’m seeing.

I’m not surprised to see the HBIC is not human. Of those that initially assembled to help him, I suspected only a quarter of those that appeared human, actually were. I return his amusement with a smile of my own. I know what he is, and I am not afraid. For an elemental manifestation, he was quite pleasant to be around.

He bows deeply, thanking me for helping him and wishing me well on my travels. Of course, his motion exposes more of himself to the revealing sunlight. In a final expression of laughter, the HBIC dissolves completely and disappears from sight. The lobby is now empty but for me, and a blank piece of paper on an end-table. As I watch, a familiar scribble appears on the end-table. I am truly, alone in the lobby.

I laugh again, make sure the keys are back in my pouch, and exit the building myself. Pausing before the doors, I hear the sounds of children at play nearby. In the distance, the bakery is in full operation, the scents of cinnamon bread teasing me to come investigate further. The doors completely close behind me, and automatically lock themselves. The sound banishes me from the dream, sending me gently into the Waking.

Make of that, what you may.

This is Part 3 of 3 telling the story of “The Gathering”.
Read Part 1 at The Gathering. (2,377 words)
Read Part 2 at The Gathering: Nights 3 & 4. (3,296 words)