Weaver of Dreams

I wake up and realize today's the day I can go visit Mrs. Rogers. I had to wait until I was sixteen to see what could not be seen. People entered her establishment and came out in many getup's. Fairies, witches and goblins abound. It was Halloween every day whether in October or May. This was just the norm but what fascinated me is Mrs. Rogers herself never changed her outfit. She was constantly in black and on her weave was no thread. My mam had heard countless questions over the years.

“Mam she’s always weaving but never changes her clothes.”

“You’ll find out soon enough child, be patient.”

I get dressed as fast as I can and gallop down the stairs.

“Whoa take it easy Grace, seriously you’re going to knock me over one of these days.”

“Sorry, I’m just so excited it’s my birthday.”

“I know it’s your birthday, sure wasn’t I present for the big event.”

“But you know what this one means, don’t you?”

“Yes, you can go over across the road to Mrs Rogers. All this fuss over nothing, have you asked Maisie to go with you, it’s much more fun with two?”

“I texted her last night she should be here soon.”

“Wasn’t it her birthday last week?”

“Yep, but she said she’d wait for me.”

The doorbell rang, and she waved me on with a smile.

“Be careful Grace. Remember, stay out of the adult section. It's cordoned off for a reason.”

I hope Grace will never find out the reason that Mrs Rogers wears black no matter the season.

“Will do, see you later.”

Maisie and I didn’t take time for small talk, we linked and skipped across the road.

We were about to introduce ourselves when Mrs Rogers shushed us and gestured that we go on in.

“No need for introductions ladies I’ve known ye since before ye were born.”

What a strange thing to say. Maisie and I link a bit tighter and walk in a lot quieter.

We meet Mrs Friel our Economics teacher on the way out she is drenched in eye-watering cheap perfume and clad in leopard print leggings, with camel toe, she was certainly dressing as her reputation as a man-eater. Eyeing up Mrs Roger's son like a starving dog ogling a sausage. She didn’t need it she had a figure like a Barbie doll with a thin waist and large breasts but now dressed like a Bet Lynch impersonator. We didn’t bat an eyelid it was nothing we hadn’t seen before, most Tuesdays in fact and she was being chased by the Vicar who was dressed in a school uniform. We were not bothered enough to even spare a giggle as Mrs Friel gave an extra wiggle which caused her earrings to jiggle. Mrs Roger's son introduced himself as Paul and gives a sly wink.  

“Hello ladies a few house rules. As you are under eighteen, you must always stay in the assigned areas no straying over to the adult side. I assure you; you are not ready for the ride. You would have got your package about six months before your birthdays going over the important stuff. I’m trusting you read them and agreed to them or you wouldn’t be here right.”

We nod and grimace at each other. No one reads the small print, right? 

“We will be watching. Have fun.”

Ride what is he talking about? And who is watching?

We enter a room full of mirrors. Oh, so we must be at some funfair where things take on funny shapes and such. The mirrors suddenly start talking telling us to pick one of them and to close our eyes. We laugh nervously but do as we're told.

“Keep them closed and try to remember your last dream, got it now open your eyes.”

I am dressed in a white fur coat gazing with a lazy winter eye at snowy mountains and icicle fountains. I look much older than my sixteen years and am holding hands with a man who hands me a hot chocolate. I tear my eyes away from the mirror and realize I don’t have to look at it anymore I’m not in that room I’m actually on a mountain. I catch sight of Amy and gasp as she is in a bikini basking in bright sunlight, looking like one of my mother’s hot flushes. We extend our arms, and my coldness puts out her fire which melted my coldness. We are once again back in the room. Paul comes in through a side door and asks would we like a cup of tea. We say we're fine but ask him can we have another go. 

“Of course. You have an hour you can go through as many dreams as you wish in that time. I’ll leave you be back in about half an hour to make sure all is as should be. Enjoy ladies.”

“Him and you, are you serious? He must be in college. He’s way too old for you.”

I’m seething and scarlet at the same time.

“Piss off Maisie. It is only a bleeding dream. I can only hope you have no wet dreams coming. I bet I’ll be swimming here if Tom Hardy turns up.”

“Well, he’s yummy and I’m never likely to meet him am I, whereas your man there is very real.”

“Stop harping on about it. How much time have we left?” 

“I’ve no idea my mam told me not to bring a phone or watch or anything.”

“Mine too, weird.”

“Don’t worry I’m sure your boyfriend will let us know.”

“Feck off, shall we see can we fit two more in?”

“Sure, but don’t go anywhere I had a nightmare or two coming up to exam time, and I know for at least one of them I woke up in a sweat and moaning, so who knows what happened there. I certainly don’t remember.”

“Are you sure it was sweat and not something to do with that wet dream we were talking about?”

“Right enough slagging let’s get on with it.”

We turn back to our mirrors and close our eyes. I open them my face appears projected on the wall and I am holding up a book that has my name emblazoned across the cover. The title is blank I must not have dreamt that yet. People appear out of nowhere and bombard me with pens and books waving. It seems they want me to sign they are all clapping and cheering. I sign every book and bask in glory.

I look over at Maisie and she’s maniacally smiling and drooling over a puppy. She looks so happy I’ll leave her to it and move on to my next one.

My hair is in a bun, tutu and ballerina pumps are raring to go. Bouquets at my feet, adoring fan letters, bliss. Elegance personified; I literally glide. My dream goes downhill fast as I realize I look like an elephant and my two left and flat feet would rip these pumps now I’m down in the dumps. 

It feels like ballet class all over again when Mrs O’Donoghue cried over my height and her visions of my budding breasts; a long time ago, but still hurts today. I must remember my body is a temple it is just a pity I’m the only one worshiping. Okay, I’m shaking this one off I don’t like it. It's fast becoming a nightmare. It’s much easier to leave it when I hear Maisie in anger or distress.

“Fuck off. Leave me alone.”

I guess Maisie has moved on as well. Oh yeah, she is with Rose the bane of our existence. She seems to think we are her personal punching balls. I look closer and they're real tears running down Maisie’s face. 

“It’s okay Maisie. You can leave it where it is. Do you want to go now or do one more? We will concentrate hard and I’m sure we’ll get a happy one. Come over here and let us see if we move our mirrors closer and hold hands maybe we can share the same dream.”

I’m disappointed when I see it's Rose at first but when she’s up on the debating column and a bag of excrement explodes over her head. We both turn and our laughter intensifies as we see the glee in the other. The slip that she executed as she tried to run off made me laugh so hard, I nearly wet myself. 

“Right ladies' time up I’m afraid.”

“What we must have at least another ten minutes.”

“The rules specifically said no harm to anyone.”

“It’s a dream for flips sake.”

“I’m not arguing with you, my mother has sacrificed enough already. One mistake destroyed all the good. You were crossing over to adult territory and as I’ve said already, you’re not ready for that. Don’t worry you are not in trouble.”

“What sacrifice. Can we talk to your mam we meant no harm?”

“Actually, my mother has a soft spot for you two. She has watched ye playing for years and says ye are good kids. She already got both your mothers’ permission that if ye asked she would explain some of her story. She has another twenty minutes before she can have a break. Would you like to see a part of the adult section she has given me permission to show ye?”

Curiosity had bitten both of us and we nodded our agreement in unison. We followed him into what looked like a fancy dress shop. Funny the kids’ section was all professional outfits in here it was all fairies, wicked godmother and bad wolf costumes galore. Seems we spend all our lives dreaming of being adults and the rest trying to recapture our childhoods.

“These seem great fun but where do they come from?”

“My mother makes them.”

“The stitching is perfection.”

“I know she’s good at her job.”

“Where do her ideas come from?”

“Her clientele.”

“Enough questions I’ll bring you out to my mother. She will answer what she wishes so don’t pressure her too much. Ah here is her coffee. Will you bring it out to her, and would you like any?”

“We're fine thanks.”

With some trepidation, we follow him outside to his mother. She greets us with a huge smile. I take an involuntary step back I have never seen her smile. She usually looks like she’s going to break into tears at any moment. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that she decided to bestow us with a smile, a gift indeed.

“Coffee cheers, strong just as I like it. Well, did you enjoy the experience? Would you come again?”

“It was cool. How do you do it?”

“You don’t need to know that. You just need to know that I can.”

“How do you make the clothes? I can’t see any thread on your loom.”

“Close your eyes, both of you. Now imagine the most beautiful dress. If you like them, you can leave with them. Send me a photo when you wear them somewhere special that’s thanks enough for me.”

We close our eyes.

“Open.”

Wow, we both look incredible. I am in my favorite turquoise and Maisie is clad in a succulent shade of purple. We both thank her profusely and ask her how she did it.

“On imaginations loom I weave, all you have to do is believe.”

Clear as mud then.

“Can we pay you for them?”

“I make no profit from my work that is part of my sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice for what?”

“I am going to let you go home now ladies, but I will leave with what I always say when asked that –

I should never have woven that shroud my sacrifice is to keep my head bowed.

Forever weaving other's dreams while my soul silently screams”.



I go to approach, but she shushes me away and waves us both on. I wanted to repay her kindness, show my gratitude but she wouldn’t have it. A fabulous day and memory.

The End