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      The afternoon was hot, a bit moist and sticky too. Yurick and Yann were enjoying the freshness of Dory’s patio.
      Cold lemon drink in cocktail glasses, the radio playing some sun related song.
      Dan was out playing golf with friends and would be here for dinner.
      Dory, dozing on her rocking chair had told Yurick and Yann that they could use their computers, they had 2 of them, so Yurick could take Dory’s and Yann could take Dan’s. Yurick was busy checking his mails and answering all those who had submitted some article for the next issue of their e-zine, and Yann wanted some distraction. He was just looking at some pictures on Gurgle, some movies on Yootune. Some of them were cracking him up, and he had difficulties keeping his :-| face serious.
      At the same time he was browsing through Dan’s pictures folders. Some of them were really amazing. Pictures of Dory on the field, with her pith helmet and her brushes, her shovels or even her pick. She was very funny looking when she was finding something seemingly out of nowhere, having dug all day long with no result and then finally some treasure! Often, Yann thought, it was only some fragment of a vase or some broken tool, but she always had this awe-inspired gaze ;))

      What is the name of this singer again?, asked Yurick.
      You ask me?

      The grin on Yurick’s face was all that Yann was waiting for. Yann had no memory of names of singers or actors. Their face, once he had seen it were recorded in his mind, but their name was like a summer breeze, refreshing, but soon forgotten. He knew that Yurick was more asking that to himself.

      Dunno me luv. You can ask the mummy in the living room if you want…
      Hahaha, graowl

      Hehehe. Funny that, thought Yann. Coming back to the computer screen, his eyes fall on a strange folder name.
      Patate? What’s that!?
      Just a few files. Videos mainly. The names weren’t very evocative…
      Yann picked one and waited for the movie to begin.
      It was kind of black and white movie… the grain was gross and old fashioned. There was no audio.
      Yann had an old memory of a similar movie seen on the comodor computer of his cousin’s parents… his cousin had told him about some weird movie he had found in a floppy disk of his father…
      So, there was a man, maybe in his 60’s, he was wearing a gray bathing suit and was a bit hairy. Drinking some kind of grey cocktail.
      A girl came in… with an amazing leopard baby-doll!!! from what Yann could see, she was blond and fleshy. Oh! and she had some friends. All of them with a leo-part on them :-?

      Ahem! Yurick? Wanna see what I found?
      I’m sure you’ll find some interest :)) hahaha! Oh my Flove! She’s really doing it!?

      Seeing his friend hilarious picked the curiosity of Yurick and he eventually came to see. The look on his face when he saw what was happening was too much for Yann who burst into laughter. That was enough to wake Dory who almost fell off her rocked chair.

      What is that? Where did you find that… thing? Dory looked offended, but soon she was blushing.
      Oh! no… don’t look at that. It was a youthful mistake…


        Ms Beryl?
        — Yes.
        — Tell me more about this whole sneezing… You can’t be serious about that deposition. You have sworn on the Book of Flove, and perjury is a grave offense.
        — I know that, Sir.
        — Perfect. And notwithstanding, you maintain your deposition.
        — Notwithstandingly, I do Sir.
        — That will be all.


        A few days later, the case on what happened of the time-travelling goats was close owing to blatant lack of evidence.
        Some later said that the judge fondness for the annual Fainting Goat Fair won his leniency, but that would be another story…


        In reply to: Synchronicity


          Some interesting syncs:

          Discussing the comment on Franiel and Vincentius with Francie, some things of interest:

          F: hahaha i laughed at the egg bit :egg_wink:
          E: bit silly I reckon :)) but somehow it synch’ed with two movies we’ve been watching yesterday
          F: yes, good to have a bit of silly in our otherwise serious story :|
          E: In one, there is that :ghost: ghost girl who stalks her husband new love affair, and ends up speaking through a parrot
          And the other, there is this shaman old woman who remote-views her people went on a quest, and ends up dying in stead of a girl, so that the young one lives…

          F: oh that is like your plants in the courtyard dream too —just had a recollection of you saying one gave up its pot for the other one
          E: Oh yes, true… Perhaps it’s just like a layering, like you do for strawberries, you use parts of the roots to do new plants…
          “Layering is more complicated than taking cuttings, but has the advantage that the propagated portion can continue to receive water and nutrients from the parent plant while it is forming roots.”

          E: “In air layering (or marcotting), the target region is wounded and then surrounded in a moisture-retaining wrapper such as sphagnum moss ;))

          Peat moss is also a critical element for growing mushrooms” that’ll make Tracy happy :))
          In New Zealand, care is taken during the harvesting of sphagnum moss=))

          F: “it can also be used as a substrate for tarantulas as it is easy to burrow into:spider:

          E: “Such Sphagnum bogs can also preserve human hair and clothing, one of the most noteworthy examples being Egtved Girl , Denmark”. Egg and B.C. sync :))

          F: cool name, Egtved. Oh thats interesting about the Egtved girl: due to be public this month
          E: oh, well spotted!
          F: shall we all pop over and check it out
          E: Ahahaha sure :world:


          In reply to: Synchronicity


            The last few days bees have been in the news. A beekeeper in the Coromandel is suspected of selling contaminated honeycomb. So far 10 people have been seriously poisoned.


            This time of year the bees feed on Tutu which is poisonous.

            HAMSTER OR RAT WEARING A TUTU. (Eric informed me that in France little rats wear tutus)

            NATIVE NZ PLANT TUTU. DO NOT EAT!!! :yahoo_shame_on_you:

            When I first read the story in the newspaper, i left the cafe and there was the HONEYB numberplate across the road, which i have not seen since Sir Ed’s death.

            The next day the bee story was in the news again. This time the beekeepers name had been released, his surname was “Prout”. He had been operating for 5 months … 5 fun? hmmm not so sure if it is fun for the people getting sick.

            I am wondering if it is a clue in relation to the Bronkelhampton saga … Plan B, pink tutus and supercilious prouts. :yahoo_thinking:

            Did you know there was a world prout organisation
            Yes indeed, they even have their own song. I found it when i was looking for the article and put in search words of honey and prout :yahoo_oh_go_on:


              Elioctyl looked down on her body being wrapped in mummification bandages and sniggered. Dear funny silly alive ones, with their darling little rituals. How sweet they were to think their physical processes would make a ha’porth of difference after their last sweet breath of terrestrial air.

              Look at Hoofut, taking it all so seriously! He thinks that if he takes every possible care with those strips of cloth and smelly unguents, that he…yes he alone!…has the power to direct my next adventures. Silly man! But he means well, bless his leather sandals. And Tarfel too, see how he cries when he’s sure Hoofut isn’t watching. I see the tears roll down his leathery cheeks, I see him brush them away with the back of his hand, and sniff and snort, and then spit on the floor. He pretends it’s the malodourous vapours of the embalming mixtures that’s making his nose run, but I can see.

              Shalabat cries too when no-one is watching. He rests on a cushion beside the pool, waiting for the completion of the process on my lifeless body, waiting for the ceremonial rites to take place, waiting, wondering, worrying about the future….he has every faith in Hoofut’s skills, and Tarfel’s too. But he wonders what will happen to his people now without Elioctyl.

              Ah, and I wonder too, but I don’t worry. I make a pact now, in love for these dear ones, to leave a piece of me in energy in the mummy they create out of my bones and skin. The mummy is for the terrestrial ones, a poignant reminder, a mystery, a relic, a treasure, a clue! and for them, I give it life, energy, meaning….I will return from time to time, in ethereal body form, to those who ponder this mummy, for generations to come….


                The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.

                Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.

                Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.

                Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.

                She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.

                A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
                It was the time of her lesson.

                You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…

                The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.

                Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.

                Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.

                You’re going to have a new teacher…

                Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.

                I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.

                A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?

                A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.

                You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years

                The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.

                Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.

                I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.

                She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?

                A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.


                  — “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

                  — “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

                  — “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

                  — “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

                  — “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

                  — “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

                  — “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

                  — “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

                  — “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

                  — “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

                  — “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

                  — “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

                  — “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

                  — “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

                  — “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

                  — “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

                  — “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

                  — “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

                  — “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

                  — “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

                  — “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

                  — “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

                  — “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”


                    Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

                    Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

                    Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

                    The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

                    Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

                    She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

                    Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

                    I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

                    Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

                    Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

                    And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

                    Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

                    I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

                    Yeah, right…..

                    Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

                    The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

                    Where have all my interesting things GONE?


                      hahaha Good Lord Franci, that’s one serious dancing snow owl there! It’s almost scarey! Dance…or else! :yahoo_nailbiting:


                        Tracy: there is no righteously indignant icon
                        Francie: yes, well if there were, i would use it!
                        Tracy: I meant all
                        Tracy: slip of the tongue
                        Francie: oh well thats alright then, i am mollified
                        Tracy: hahahahhahahahahahahha
                        Tracy: maniacally
                        Tracy: maybe I should change my name
                        Francie: hahaah what to?
                        Francie: molly, molly fried
                        Tracy: Molly Baloney
                        Francie: mollocks
                        Francie: yes! do it
                        Tracy: hahaha no
                        Francie: no well seriously, what to?
                        Tracy: I will be Molly Maloney and you be Betty Mollocks
                        Francie: ahahhhaha
                        Francie: doubt it
                        Tracy: Baloney
                        Tracy: not Maloney
                        Francie: oh no i feel a new character coming on
                        Francie: oh its okay, you can’t get in
                        Francie: :yahoo_whew:
                        Tracy: hahah would you please introduce them into the story under my name
                        Francie: thats why!
                        Tracy: Molly Boloney and Betty Mollocks
                        Francie: you will just have to save it up
                        Tracy: well I might forget it, just make a note of it for me, as if you were Becky jotting down a clue
                        Francie: okay i will post it in random ramblings okay
                        Tracy: ok, just paste this part of the chat as a comment
                        Francie: hang on i will do it now
                        Tracy: no, this chat part in story
                        Francie: no i refuse
                        Tracy: thank you dearest Franci. You may print that too
                        Francie: I will do it in ramblings or nothing
                        Tracy: ok
                        Francie: take your pick
                        Tracy: thanks
                        Francie: ahahahahaha
                        Tracy: ramblings
                        Francie: okay hang on
                        Tracy: you have got me by the balls, thats why
                        Francie: it is quite rambly, i think it goes rather well
                        Tracy: yes, you are right as usual
                        Francie: where shall i do it to and from?
                        Tracy: um
                        Tracy: start there up til here
                        Tracy: right here


                          Elizabeth Tattler gasped and clutched the right side of her chest. For a moment she wondered if the sharp pain she felt was a heart attack, and was greatly relieved when she realised it was located on the other side of her chest. After some investigation of her cluttered desk, she realised she must have fallen asleep on the pyramid shaped pencil sharpener her friend Yannie P had given her for her last birthday. It was made of fake blue diamond and was really rather beautiful; she could see thousands of suspended dust particles in it’s reflected light. But it was damn sharp! A thought flashed through her head, was the gift really a cunning plot to murder her? She shook her head at her own absurdity, anyway, fortunately the five layers of Angora-Mongoat wool jerseys she was wearing had protected her from more serious injury.

                          She could not help but notice how the consistently the quote of the day seemed so in tune with her moods. It was almost uncanny:

                          Bugger your feelings~ Tobipooh

                          Damn right! If she listened to her feelings she would go home and sleep for a week. No time for that, no time for a nana nap even! She had a novel to write.


                          In reply to: Synchronicity


                            I just love the image of all the broken plates and water stuff! What fun! I nearly choked to death once at a party, and nobody thought it was as serious as I knew it was. I was trying to demonstrate the Heimlich manouvre whilst dying; nobody knew what to do. Actually I think I have hundreds of dead probable selves!

                            Points Jib for following your intuition and bugger the plates!


                              Vincentius wanted to know where Arona had been heading.

                              She rummaged in her bag and pulled out her map to show him. Then her honestly got the better of her. No idea really, she confessed. How about you?

                              No idea either, said Vincentius.

                              Arona tried to look serious, then cracked up laughing and after a moment Vincentius joined in. Arona could not help but note what a lovely musical laugh he had. Definitely no snorting, and for a moment she thought fondly of dear wandering Sanso. I Wonder where he is now?

                              While they were busy laughing, they did not notice the woman arrive, but all of a sudden there she was, an old, bent, withered crone. An apparition of pure ugliness. Their laughter stopped abruptly.

                              Laughing my little lovelies were you, please don’t stop on my account said the crone. What a perfectly delightful sound. Music to my poor old ears. And she cackled gleefully.

                              oh Lordy, muttered Mandrake, his patience wearing thin with all the, what he considered, unwarranted and unnecessary joyfulness.

                              and what a cute little pussy cat, said the old woman, her long gnarly fingers gently resting on Mandrake for a moment. Mandrake snarled.

                              and a baby, said the old woman, reaching out to Yikesy who was cradled in Arona’s arms.


                              In reply to: Synchronicity


                                okay serious synchs now as you guys have clearly lost the plot. Plot? hmmmm, silly me, I thought there was a plot. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                                Last night I had a LOVELY dream I gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl and we were so happy and I was so proud of myself. :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause:

                                Yesterday, across the road in the park all these cars gathered, funny racing cars, old ones, for some big racing event or other. I was wandering around with a friend, who is more into cars than me, and a bit bored so started thinking of the story. I looked up and on a little yellow car the number plate said “Flynn Hi”. :yahoo_laughing: Of course this must be Tracy I thought because she has said several times now she likes the name Finn, and then she always adds “and the name Flynn”. Then I looked and saw another number plate and it was ‘TTTTTT


                                  You’re not serious, are you? Sanso raised an eyebrow at Arona (who had mysteriously materialized a baby in her arms, in the blink of an eye)

                                  You’re calling it YIKES? Oh well, fair enough….

                                  In a puff of smoke, a Crayola fairy appeared in front of them.

                                  Yes? she said, You called? I’m Fairy Nuf…that’s fun spelled backwards, in case you’re wondering how I got here.

                                  Sanso didn’t really understand what was going on, but had an urge to materialize a baby too.


                                  Thankfully the urge soon passed and he said to Fairy Nuf politely, There must be a mistake, but thank you for calling. I hope it didn’t inconvenience you.

                                  Call me anytime, I’m available 24/7, sweetie….and in an puff of smoke, she was gone.


                                    The City, year 2257

                                    Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

                                    Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
                                    They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
                                    Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

                                    Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

                                    Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
                                    She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.


                                    Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
                                    — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
                                    — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
                                    — Ahahah, yes!

                                    Al started again to moan:
                                    — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

                                    (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

                                    Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
                                    — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
                                    Becky nodded
                                    — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
                                    — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…


                                    While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
                                    A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
                                    — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
                                    Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
                                    — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

                                    — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
                                    — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
                                    — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
                                    Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

                                    So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

                                    — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
                                    — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
                                    Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

                                    Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

                                    Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
                                    — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
                                    — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
                                    Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
                                    Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
                                    — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
                                    TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

                                    Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
                                    — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
                                    — Yes, absolutely
                                    — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
                                    — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
                                    — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

                                    Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
                                    — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
                                    — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
                                    — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

                                    Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
                                    AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
                                    Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
                                    Then she added:

                                    Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
                                    — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
                                    — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
                                    — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
                                    Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

                                    Now, Janice was hooked:
                                    — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
                                    Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
                                    — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

                                    Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
                                    — Around which year? she asked
                                    — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
                                    — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
                                    — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
                                    — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
                                    — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
                                    — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
                                    — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
                                    — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
                                    — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

                                    “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
                                    — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

                                    — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
                                    — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

                                    They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

                                    She then remembered something else:
                                    — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
                                    … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
                                    Date fits again, she said in awe.
                                    — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
                                    — Hmmm
                                    — Hmmm
                                    — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
                                    — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

                                    Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
                                    Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
                                    Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
                                    — “I am not sure about that!”
                                    — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
                                    — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
                                    — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
                                    — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
                                    — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
                                    — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
                                    — Bit bossy Princess
                                    — Which dynasty?
                                    III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
                                    — What year?
                                    Janice projected the timeline below then said
                                    — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

                                    They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

                                    Rodney was seeing something else
                                    — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
                                    Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
                                    — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
                                    — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
                                    — Exactly
                                    — And they communicated because they are helping each other
                                    — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
                                    — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
                                    — Yes! resulting in confusion!

                                    And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.


                                      A few days after Sam and Becky’s conversation on the phone, they were having a rehearsal.

                                      Just at the moment when they felt stuck again, despite Sam’s moves, Al and Tina, a couple of friends came crashing into the small theater room, and were greeted by an icy cold silence. “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”.

                                      Sorry for being late! said Al a bit uneasy.
                                      — Oh you and your uneasiness! said Tina. And I’m sure we’re arriving at the perfect time.
                                      — Oh, well, I’m not sure of anything today, said Becky. I’m sick of being force-fed coleslaw, and rigging down holes for myself.

                                      A silence was on the scene.


                                      At the same time, somewhere on the deck of his ship, Bådul was remembered of the landscapes of his land. He had not really appreciated them before, but now, he was finding them dear to him. They were for the most part a mixture of sandy dunes, from which at times peaks of icy rocky mountains would stick out. Lately he had felt like one of these peaks sticking out of the sands. The sands were shifting.


                                      Somewhere in Malvina’s cave.

                                      Malvina had been polishing the last dry eggs that she had found and that would not hatch. One of them had some interesting perfect round shape, and a very transparent shell, and it gave her an idea.

                                      She asked Leörmn to come.


                                      Quintin’s bedroom.

                                      [1:01] The clock was saying. Quintin had just awoken from a dream about an elderly woman who was showing him some drawings. These were not actually drawings, but in fact, they were called by the lady “glassart”. It was made, she said, of coloured sands, and would be vitrified by some flame. Quintin in that dream had thought the designs rather crude, but had found the idea interesting, and with great potential.


                                      Leörmn came almost instantly, appearing in a puff of teal smoke.

                                      Oh, I see… he said, reading Malvina’s mind. And I think I have the perfect sands to go with it.


                                      — Why hasn’t that pirate, Badass…
                                      Badul, corected Al
                                      — Whatever, Becky pursued imperturbably, that pirate Baddock used traveling portals to go and look for the eggs? Why the seas? Sounds a bit complicated and with lots of dangers too.
                                      — Good question, answered Al. Well, don’t want to answer for everyone, but in my perception…
                                      — Oh, get lost with your “in my perception” thing, that’s becoming tiring… sighed Tina
                                      — OK. So, for me, they have forgotten much about magic in his land.
                                      — Makes sense… added Sam dreamily… In fact, I’m not sure after all that Badul is only after gold. I think he has found some old desert dragon egg in a cave lost in his country and hopes to revive it, with the help of the people who still know about magic.
                                      — Which would explain the quest… said Al
                                      — Yeah, and he would have hidden that to the rest of the crew, probably… said Tina


                                      Leörmn had now finished assembling the magical artifact.

                                      — That’s one of our most beautiful magical artifact I’d say, Malvina gleamed
                                      — Oh yes it is. And how would you call it?
                                      — Let’s see…


                                      sabulmantium !

                                      Everyone cracked up at the word that Al had just blurted out. They had decided to have some distraction to alleviate the stress on the play, and they had a fun improvisation game, saying stupid things that went through their minds.

                                      — Hey! Don’t laugh like that, it’s something very serious actually, said Al tongue-in-cheek. Let me see…
                                      — Hahahaha, the others continued
                                      — Well, it’s a divination device, or a sort of compass in a way. I see it as a globe made of glass, with coloured sands in it, and when you focus on it, the sands take all sorts of three dimensional shapes, and become alive…
                                      — Wow! Tina couldn’t help but say.


                                      Leörmn, as Malvina had been telling him (or vice versa), had put the sabulmantium in one of the tunnels, to a place where he knew Arona would find it, and probably put it to good use for her future adventures.


                                        Illi had not known as powerful an opponent as this other Illi.

                                        At first, she had been remembered of stories of possession by evil sprites (or djinns) that she had heard in her youth, when Ibn al’ Gruk, the old angora storyteller was entertaining the desert settlement beating the rhythm with sonorous drums.

                                        So, she had pushed, and rebelled, and fought, as fiercely as any other gripshawk skilled and trained in the hand-to-hand martial arts would have done.

                                        But the other Illi wasn’t so easily vanquished.

                                        Then Illi had collapsed. She had sorrowfully abandoned the fight to the dreaded adversary.

                                        All of this had been occurring in a twinkle of an eye, but for Illi, the fight had been during ages and ages, while she was trying to focus on what BelleDora was explaining to her about the land where she was now.

                                        And when she had abandoned the fight, everything was again so easy. She did not care any longer, she was free again. Her evil twin could do anything, it could not matter less.

                                        But the evil twin had been in fact doing the same, and she had struggled to keep the focus coherent to her. Didn’t want stupid moth-looking people in her reality, or even spare hair on her face! But that other one was strong, and fierce. And stubborned too!

                                        — Who are you? she finally had asked
                                        — I’m Illi, had the other answered
                                        — I am Illi.
                                        — So we are both Illi
                                        — Yeah, that may be it, but we are quite different.
                                        — Are we? You feel quite like me, despite your stupid affection for smooth baby face.
                                        — Well, wouldn’t it be for that, I can see some resemblance…
                                        — Will you let me continue my trip?
                                        — Oh, I would have, but you’ve hijacked mine, said Illi Fergusson.
                                        — So you think.
                                        — And where does your trip leads to? asked Illi F. who wasn’t too sure of her trip either
                                        — From traveling portals to traveling portals, to discover all that can be discovered on this world. Magical creatures, I distrust them, but the lands and people are fascinating… And what about yours?
                                        — Hmm, hmm, pondered Illi F. for a moment… Well, I’m dead actually, but I didn’t expect being dead to be so busy. There are so many things to discover, and I like that. I see funny looking people, and this looks like fun. Like a minute ago, I was in some kind of funny cave, with a parrot…
                                        — A what?
                                        — A parrot, you know, a kind of talking bird full of colours…
                                        — Mmm, some kind of demonic creature for sure. Would have slain it without an hesitation!
                                        — Hey! You see, that’s why I didn’t want you to come with me.
                                        — Well, seems like for a moment, we don’t have much more choice…
                                        — At least, look at the bright side, with us merged like that, each of us can provide the other one with some sound experience on each other’s worlds.
                                        — Well, that’s not as airy-fairy as it seems…
                                        — Well, thank you for that, I’ll take that as a compliment.
                                        — You really are dreadfully serious at times!
                                        — Hey, I’m not anybody you see. My parents were aristocrats, I’m not the common hairy lot.
                                        — Ahahah, you’re funny.
                                        — So are you!

                                        And they ended laughing blissfully together.

                                        After a moment, Illi asked again:

                                        — Huh, a funny cave you said?
                                        — Well, yes. With lots of people…
                                        — Interesting… I was near some sort of strange cave too a while ago, that is, before I was found by this nice man and his dogs. Perhaps there is some connection here.
                                        — And could you go there again?
                                        — Not sure if I want to; there were some smelly fumes, smelt like demonic magic in there.
                                        — Oh you see, for as long as I’ve been dead, well even if that’s not so long ago, anyway, the point is I’ve not seen any demon so far… blustered Illi F.
                                        — Oh, and I have to take your word like that then?
                                        — Well, do as you please, but I’m going there again…
                                        — Just wait for me now, will you; let’s try to do things hand in hand, because you’re driving me mad!

                                        And the deal was made.

                                        BelleDora had continued to explain lots of things about her ancestors, but had not really noticed Illi’s attention had been so far away. She was a bit surprised when she found herself interrupted in a middle of a poetic depiction of the coastal plains of the Peninsula of the Dragon Head, where some glistening Capricorns were sometimes seen swimming in the creeks.

                                        — And how do I get back safely to this hole where I was found? asked Illi abruptly.


                                          That morning Fiona’s boyfriend asked her to marry him. He even had a date in mind. Over the weekend she had told him how she was feeling. She thought she had spoken plainly enough and he had gone away. She had a bad weekend but yesterday felt she was starting to be more herself again. So it came as a surprise, and she had to explain again.

                                          And then she went to bed, and pulled the covers over her head, and let the sound of the rain falling outside soothe her.

                                          She had a funny dream. She was in a courtroom seated on a little wooden chair, wearing a beautiful dress made of exquisite lace. In her arms she held a baby. She had dreamed of the baby before, but in the previous dream she had felt only repulsion for the funny little thing with its exhausted tiny body, and extra long hair. This time she was holding it protectively.

                                          On one side of the courtroom were a group of people looking very serious and professional. She felt them to be mainly doctors and lawyers and they wore dark suits. On the other there were people chanting and waving placards. Some were meditating, others were dancing and they looked like crazy hippy people.

                                          The two groups of people were fighting over something, shouting backwards and forwards, and it seemed to be something to do with her. She was getting more and more tense as she sat on the little chair with her head down and listened to the two sides, till it seemed she might explode.

                                          Suddenly she looked up and she saw a funny Chinese gentleman, smiling and winking at her. He held out his hand to her and, holding the baby gently with one arm, she took it gratefully and they escaped from the bedlam.

                                          When Fiona eventually decided she could emerge from beneath the covers the rain had stopped.

                                          Bugger this! she said

                                          She put on music loudly and danced around the house doing the housework…..

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