Sometimes last night Chapter Thirty-Five was finished, tidied up and put to bed. The last of the four scenes was completed, and I’m happy with them–
I wasn’t happy with how I felt, but that’s another story. Maybe a change of pace going out tonight will liven things up just a bit. I don’t know: of late I’ve been in a massive funk and it’s affecting my work and my writing, and I’m not sure how to stop it. Maybe some plotting and time lining tonight will fix things up a bit and get my mind off in a different direction.
I did catch a minor flaw in my writing, last night–at goof, if you will. After a conversation I had yesterday about Annie and her statements concerning her attending Salem, I went back and checked out the parts of the story where she mentioned this fact. It happened with Deanna way back at the start of the school year, and I happened with Kerry twice: once on 1 April in Salem, and then three weeks later in Kansas City. There was one point where Annie remembers something about the time different without realizing it has something to do with something she did her in “Last Dream”, so I left it in because, yes, these kids both have slip-ups in memory, and that’s something relating to her dream. (And I can also have her remember that when she’s in KC, I love how to work that . . .)
But the mistake I made came about three hundred thousand words apart. When Annie is speaking to Deanna she mentions when she discovered Kerry’s real name and wrote it down. She also mentions that later to Erywin. We know she told Erywin it was after Kerry moved to Cardiff, which happened after he turned eight and the summer before she turned nine. But she tells Deanna it happens before she turns eight. Oops. This is where I have to make sure I get some keywords in place in Scrivener so I can keep facts like this straight, because I know stuff I wrote in November, 2013, is probably just a little off from things I wrote a year later.
But you don’t want to hear about that. You want to know what happens next, right?
Well, Annie’s standing in the middle of a road . . .
All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)
Annie squinted as diffused light stuck her eyes. The scenery began coming into view, and she glanced right and left, taking in her surroundings. She was standing in a tree-lined street with houses on either side, though there wasn’t any traffic, nor were there any cars. Sound was absent: wind, animals, music, people being outside—there was nothing was dead silence.
She gazed down her body towards her feet. She was still dressed in her blue silk pajamas and her feet were bare. She touched the pavement with here toes: it felt like she was walking on the bed’s comforter and not something hard and unyielding.
She was aware shouldn’t be here, because she was in bed asleep.
Annie remembered getting under the covers and turning out the lights. She remembered Kerry telling her good night and that he loved her, and she doing the same. She remembered rolling onto her right side and feeling Kerry cuddle her and kiss the back of her neck before spooning up against her back and sliding his left arm over her tummy.
She remembered feeling content and happy and loved before closing here eyes—
Oh, Annie, you lovely girl. Talking about falling asleep in bed with your soul mate. But now she’s standing in the middle of a street in her pajamas. And . . .
She turned to her right and there he stood, slightly behind her and maybe five meters away. He was also dressed in his pajamas, but he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He always wears his glasses. She took two steps in his direction as he began walking towards her. The only time I’ve ever see him without them is when . . .
The moment he was within arm’s length Kerry took Annie’s hands. “Is this what I think it is?”
Annie looked up. “Does everything feel a bit strange to you?”
“Just a little.” He reached up and touched his face. “I’m not wearing my glasses.”
“No, you’re not.” She looked down the street past Kerry, then back to him. “This is—” A huge grin broke out on her face. “We’re dreaming.”
“This is our dreamspace.” He laughed aloud. “We’re dreaming again.”
Finally they are back. This is what it’s like for them: everything looks real, but there’s just enough off to make it seem not real. And there’s a little test, just to see if it is real–
She wasn’t certain how they were doing this, but Annie was ecstatic to see them back in a space they’d shared so many times in the past. “Wait—see if you can change your clothes.”
Kerry closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate. A few seconds later his pajamas vanished and he was wearing the same outfit he’d worn from Salem. He looked down at himself. “Wow. I can do this.”
“Of course you can—” Annie’s own clothing changed, though instead of wearing the outfit she’d worn from school, she was wearing a tank top, jeans, and sandals. “You’re a witch, just like me. And if I can change, so can you.” She laughed and leapt against him. “I can’t believe we’re here.”
Kerry had never seen Annie so happy before—but then, this was their private world; this was a place they’d shared so many times in the past, and now, it seemed, it was open once more . . . “When we were talking about this tonight, something must have unlocked that allowed us to get back here.”
“It must have.” Annie continued hugging Kerry tight. “We were together last night—”
“But we didn’t figure out our last dream.” Kerry spun Annie around, laughing. “Oh, man. This is fantastic.”
“It is.” Annie kept her arms draped around his shoulders as she checked their surroundings. “Do you know this place? I don’t recognize it.”
We’ve seen Annie singing and showing off here nail polish, and now she’s leaping for joy. Pretty soon she’ll want to go shopping, and she’ll end up dragging Kerry into every store she can find. But that’s for a later date and a latter time. Right now questions are asked, and Kerry does have an answer . . .
He nodded. “I know it.” Kerry pointed to the house behind her. “That’s my old house on Van Winkle Drive. This is Sleepy Hollow.”
Annie stared at the house. “I’ve never seen it from out here.”
“No. The only time you ever saw it in our dreams was out on the back patio and in my bedroom.”
She remembered something that he’d mentioned after returning from Yule holiday. “You didn’t go by here when you were visiting your grandparents, did you?”
He shook his head. “No.” He looked to his left, staring down the road. “My parents did, but I didn’t want to.”
Annie slowly untangled herself. “Why not?”
“I just—” He cleared his throat and looked away from the structure. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
Abandonment and separation play a big part in Kerry’s psychology, and both seem to go together. It seems as if his life in California wasn’t much better than his current one in Cardiff, but he seems to have an answer of why he misses this place so much . . .
There were many things that Annie remembered from their last eight months together, but the thing that stuck out this very moment was one of the first things he said to her after she’d told him she loved him. “’This is a new chapter for me’.”
He shook himself. “What?”
“You said that our first night in the garden after you told me that no girl had ever said they loved you or called you their soul made.” She gently placed his left hand between hers. “You were talking about your E&A; it was the only thing you could remember.”
He allowed his mind to wander back to that moment. “I remember I was told not to dwell on the past.” He looked at the dream house and slipped his hands into his pant pockets. “And I haven’t been dwelling—”
“So why didn’t you go by and say goodbye?”
Kerry looked down and shook his head. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”
Annie touched his chin and slowly raised his head. “My love . . .”
He blinked twice. “Yes?”
“Why can’t you say goodbye?”
“Because . . .” He swallowed and motioned towards the building. “I didn’t want to say goodbye without you.” He lowered his arms to his side. “I didn’t know why at the time I didn’t want to see this place; I kept thinking it had to do with what I remembered from the E&A, that I have to write new chapters and move forward. But I know now: this is where we met, were we played, where we learned about each other. That’s why I couldn’t go . . .” Kerry stared deeply into Annie’s eyes. “You should be there when I say goodbye to my home.”
It’s not so much the memories he shared there with family and friends, but he now knows this is the place where he first met Annie, and he wants to be with her when he finally waves this place off.
However, Annie has some words of wisdom for him–
She turned and pointed towards the house. “That’s not your home, darling.”
“I know: it’s just a dream.”
“No, I mean . . . it’s not your home; it never was. It was a place that you lived until you were eight, and then you moved to Cardiff.” She took his hands. “Until you find a place where you can live with someone you love, and who loves you, and you both fill that place with your love, you won’t really have a home.”
She stood to his left and hugged him as they faced the front yard. “We shared many memories there, and many more in Cardiff, but those don’t mean nearly as much to me as bike riding in our dream countryside, or the place in the mountains where we picnicked—or your tree where you read to me.” She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. “That place means more to me than either of these places you’ve lived.”
Kerry sniffed once and lightly pressed his head against hers. “I never thought of it that way.”
She nodded. “I know. You think of this place as where we first met, but really—” She pulled slightly away and looked around. “This place, our dreamspace, is where we first met, where we played, where we learned about each other. This is why I’ve missed out dreams: because this was our first home.”
He chuckled. “It is, isn’t it?” Kerry turned to Annie and kissed her lightly. “It’s our home.”
“And our home is filled with our love.” Annie nodded towards the house. “One day we’ll say goodbye to this place in person, but—” She stepped back and tugged lightly on his arm. “Show it to me so we can say goodbye now.”
When I wrote the above passage last night I was only concerned with getting it right, with writing it in Annie’s voice–which I do hear when I’m writing her dialog–and it didn’t affect me then, but just rereading it now . . . I teared up big time. Yeah, I know: I’m like Kerry. Big surprise there.
But in those words you find the one reason out of many why Annie wanted Kerry to remember his dream, and why she wanted to return to sharing them with him: because this is their home. And you realize–and it’s something that gets brought up in another scene–that even Annie wants and needs a home.
Probably with here husband-to-be, but we know how goes, right?
And there’s on last thing:
“There were.” He laughed softly. “You really want to go inside?”
“Yes.” She kissed his cheek. “And then I want to see our tree again, and rest in its shade.”
He faced the house, holding Annie’s right hand in his left. “You ready?”
She stood alongside and faced the house as well. “I am.”
“Okay, then.” Kerry nodded sharply once. “Let’s do this.”
Annie nodded once. “Let’s.”
Those last four lines will get used at least once a novel, assuming I ever get around to writing them. I also know something special about those words, too–I just can’t tell you, not just yet.
So, out with the old and in with the new . . .
And as you can see I’ve already started some house cleaning. I’ll finalize this layout tonight, and probably do a little writing an a little time lining, and in no time we’ll be through the Kansas operation–
Safe and sound, I hope.