Dream d2535-s: The Open Hand

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where I was in the upper landing at Glenholt with a notebook open across my knee and the board game spread on the table beside the window. The candle was not lit. The light came from outside, thin and even, the kind that does not move.

Lano had come up the stairs behind me. She settled near the wall, not at my feet but close enough that I could feel the warmth of her without looking.

The game had been stopped mid-turn. A playing piece stood on the third square from the far corner, and there were cards fanned out on the right side of the board as though a hand had been set down and not picked up again. I recorded the piece first. The token was red, or had been - the paint worn at the center from being held. I wrote that. I wrote its position.

Then the cards: four of them, three face-down and one showing. I wrote the face-up card. I did not touch the three that were face-down. A thing left face-down is still a fact. I wrote that it was face-down.

Lano moved. She crossed the room and stood at the window a moment, then came back and pressed close against my leg. I did not stop writing.

The board had a pale ring on the upper left corner, where something had been set on it and lifted. The ring was old. I wrote it down.

There were pieces to the side that had not been in play: still in the starting arrangement, reserves or pieces never drawn. I counted them and wrote the count.

The window was dark by the time I finished the last entry. The game was recorded as it stood: the token mid-move, the cards in the hand that had been left, the reserves untouched, the ring on the board. I closed the notebook.

Lano waited at the door. We went down.

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