He hated it when his dreams were so real that he felt like could almost touch them the next day.
There was a faint acrid smell as if the candles had not been extinguished properly, which he knew was rubbish because the magic in The Emporium would never allow anything like that to occur. Bleary eyed he reached out a hand to find the lamp on the bedside table and smiled, some habits were hard to break.
“Lights,” he said.
Nothing happened.
Hear we go again, he thought. What’s wrong now?
Of late there seemed to have been a lot that was going awry. Only yesterday he’d awoken to find the magic gone or was that just a dream. He found it hard to tell sometimes. Now it had happened again.
Stumbling to the window he threw back the curtains. It was still night, well actually it looked as if it wasn’t quite dawn, as if mother nature was having a bit of a lie in and had simply forgotten to extinguish the night-time properly. The world was a kind of mucky purple.
As he opened the window a bird flew in.
The brilliant scarlet and gold plumage looked so out of place that Thrumps wondered if he was really awake. The phoenix eyed him suspiciously.
“Out of the ashes, out of the ashes.” It squawked, the melodious voice giving way to hysteria.
Now he knew he was still asleep. For one thing everyone knows that the bird is a myth and, in his dream, last night it raised the place to the ground. Ohh, but hang-on that’s what they do, right.
He watched it preening a shiny new feather on its wing, without a care in the world.
If the dream was last night, then it can’t possible have been reborn so soon, Thrumps thought.
Legend has it that the phoenix rises three days after the fire.
“Did you sing and stop the sun?” He asked it.
The bird paused momentarily but did not reply.
The Book of Un-Reality flipped itself open on the desk.
Ahh thought Thrumps not all magic is gone then.
Fire-bird, was the title and the page was covered in intricate paintings showing off the many colour variations passed down through time. It was also known as the solar bird and to be in its presence was the beginning of a new era.
“What new era?” Thrumps asked aloud.
The bird settled on his shoulder and as he started to read the new page a strong smell of myrrh wafted around the room.
Myrrh is associated with Venus, the goddess of love.
Thrumps snorted, love, that’s the last thing he thought this would lead to.
He read on …
Venus, the personification of adult sexuality, passionate, impulsive but always faithful to her true love.
The Phoenix symbolises everlasting love and the ultimate in marital happiness through thick and thin with a passion that will last more than a lifetime.
It also shows that the past can be shed and forgotten.
Thrumps absently stroked the bird’s fiery red tail. It ruffled its feathers accepting the impromptu act of affection.
“What has all this to do with me?” He asked it.
“Out of the ashes, out of the ashes.” It squawked.
“Was it a dream last night,” he asked gazing around.
The Emporium now looked as it always did in between midnight adventures. The day still hadn’t dawned, but it looked like Mother Nature had roused herself and was at least preparing to wake the world up. Thrumps automatically picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee.
“Okay book,” he said gently. “Anything else to add?”
His pen plunged itself into the ink well and started its familiar scrawl across the bottom of the page.
Myrrh, also known as Myrtle.
“Good to know.” Thrumps said sarcastically as he slammed the cover shut.
“And on that riveting note I bid you all to slumber. He headed off back to bed.
“Wake me when normally returns.”
Normality he mused. When was anything ever normal these days.