The Dreamweaver Read online

  Contents

  Forward

  Dedication

  Dedication

  Forward

  The Dreamweaver is a physics love story, featuring none other than Merlin - but the not Merlin as found in many stories as a wizard or the mage from King Arthurs court — but as he truly may have been; a genius, physicist, scholar and potentially the first man to drift in and out of time. Trapped in the Dreamweaver realm by Nivane, his greatest foe, with the curse; “One-hundred times one-hundred Myrddin Emrys shall wait, with only the dreams of others to be his fate…," he happens upon the dream tapestry of the enchanting Anna Stewart from twenty-first century New York. Captivated by her beauty and bright aura, he begins to weave her perfect dreams — and after Merlin’s cat manages to leave the dreamweaver’s workroom through her tapestry and enter Anna’s dreams…the fun begins.

  The Dreamweaver

  By Nancy Joseph Peterson

  The premise for this book presents Merlin as a genius whose knowledge of physics is such that he is able to transgress dimensions by using ‘simple’ equations to locate and gather quantum mechanical black holes for the creation of doorways into ages past and future. The Dreamweaver poses the concept that it was due to this ‘time drifting,’ in and out of ages hundreds of years apart, that created the immortal Merlin legends.

  Obviously the ‘physics’ in The Dreamweaver is playfully presented; it is pseudo science in the extreme and was meant only to present the character of Merlin as a physicist rather than a wizard.

  I enjoy casually studying physics, and I love reading accounts of mythical places and characters, such the dimension of Fairy and legends of Merlin, as well as being an avid reader of paranormal romance — so this book nods to all of my literary loves in a playful way.

  Hopefully, if readers (other than my family) enjoy the book, I will write another as I left room for a sequel.

  Finally…thank you for spending a little money and your valuable reading time on my book. It was a work of love for me and a life-long ambition to finally write a fantasy novel.

  Dedication

  There are two people who are now gone but whose presence will always remain an influence in all aspects of my life, and certainly any attempts I make at writing. They always encouraged me and would’ve been pleased that I have finally done it.

  My Mother, Mildred Adeline Bailey Joseph, the sweetest, gentlest human being I have ever known, and my brother, Thomas Lee Joseph who left us far too young and was the most supportive and loving brother in the Universe. I miss them both everyday and it is to their memories that I dedicate this book.

  Additionally, thanks to my family; my daughter, Brooke Dawson, who is the light of my life, my granddaughters; Lauren, Makenna and Ava whose love and beauty inspire me and make me smile every day.

  Finally the man who gave me the gift of time to write this book; Frank Hanna. Thank you for your love, generosity, encouragement and patience in allowing us to have innumerable take-aways because I was too consumed with writing to cook.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Dreamweaver

  The weavers room was large, with stone floors and smoke stained walls. The ceiling was so tall that its full height couldn’t be determined as the light failed to reach much above the torch lit alcoves. Lack of ventilation caused the oily smoke to twist and gather above the room in misty dark clouds that swirled and caught the light in flashes of dark and bright. Dragons breath, the weaver called it occasionally, but it was really just the smoke from the constant torchlight that never went out or needed to be refilled.

  The cold of the room manifested itself in the steady puffs of breath from its lone occupant as he worked with still fingers on one of the hundreds of looms positioned throughout the room.

  The weaver worked his needles swiftly, carrying threads whose colours were ever-changing and woven into a tapestry that in itself, was fluid and filled with subtle movement.

  Myrddin stood back to examine his work. His dark hair disheveled, the one thick plait that was meant to contain it, unkempt having released most of the hair it was meant to restrain. He cut a thread and began a new line with another colour and a new concept on a different area of the same tapestry. The speed of his needle flashed as he created new scenes that, once placed, continued with a life of their own as the image expanded and deepened into what was no longer a flat, one dimensional tapestry, but more like a window onto a pastoral landscape with people and creatures moving slowly throughout.

  He paused to examine his work as his perpetual motion time-keeping device softly bumped, dropping another small bead into a basket which contained thousands. Time had lapsed and those small beads were the only record the weaver had of it’s passing.

  The sound of the dropping bead caused the weaver to pause, remembering his early days as a student under the tutelage of his first teacher and mentor, Blaise.

  One of his first projects had been inventing a perpetual motion machine. He smiled as he recalled how he’d overturned conventional scientific belief, having been told it was an impossible concept due to friction, and that such an isolated system would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics. But Myrddin had always enjoyed breaking laws — even at eight years of age.

  Myrddin moaned as his strained muscles protested at the awkward angle he’d positioned himself for that last bit of weaving, he stretched wearily.

  “Enough for the moment, that should suffice for now.” Myrddin said to his cat, who he called ‘Cat’ for lack of anything more inventive, and who regarded him without much interest, turning away to give himself a quick, comforting bath with his scratchy, feline tongue. Myrddin ignored his dismissal and yawned, glancing at himself in the looking glass that was positioned just beyond his work area.

  The image that it reflected was that of a still young man in his early thirties with a strong jaw, predominate nose and a high brow that was highlighted by intelligent grey eyes. He snorted at himself for his vanity, if indeed it was vanity as his reflection was the only company he had save that of his small, disinterested cat.

  “Enough of that!” He said to the image that was himself and ever the same each time he’d checked, “No more feeling sorry for your lot in life, Myrddin!” He spared one last glance to assure himself he was still him, and nodded in acknowledgement, “Still sort of sane, my friend, myself.” Myrddin chuckled.

  Myrddin settled onto a wooden stool and poured a tall draught of the sweet ambrosia that kept him alive and sane in the forsaken realm where was imprisoned. Drinking the golden liquid in one swallow, he straightened, feeling again renewed and ready to work through what could be day or night; as there was no change in time, day or century in the place where he was trapped.

  His attention was once again drawn to a tapestry in the corner. It showed a beautiful cabin in a wintery scene. Currently the owner of that particular dream-tapestry was making her way through fluffy snow to find the solitude that brought her peace and happiness in her dreams. He found he couldn’t turn away, and knowing he shouldn’t take a personal interest in any one loom, of which he had hundreds, he couldn’t help himself. Her fair visage glowed with a pure aura, and her gentle smile drew him like a moth to a flame.

  Her hair was long and golden; the colour of sunshine on wheat and her eyes as green as the spring grass on the hills of Wales that he remembered from his childhood. “Anna…”” Myrddin whispered softly. Making her dreams as lovely as she had become the only bright spot in his forlorn existence, he took a deep breath and decided to work a bit longer on her dream to make it even more of what she wanted and needed.

  As before, her footsteps fell softly on newly fallen snow. The sound of true silence, that particularly quiet sound of a windless snowfa
ll, caused her to place her steps even more delicately. The occasional creaking of snow laden tree limbs or a scuttling rabbit seeking shelter, was all that broke the quiet of her journey. She breathed in the crisp, fresh air and exhaled all her worries in one steamy breath.

  Peace…

  Anna loved the serenity the short walk in the woods always provided. Pushing the sheltering boughs of pine on the trail to one side, she viewed her destination.

  Hidden to all except the one who knew the way as well as she knew her own heart, the spacious log and rock cabin sat in the centre of a snow covered glade. A picture of calm, and homeliness as a tendril of smoke from the rock chimney curled gently upwards into the clear, blue sky.

  Tall windows blinked in golden light as the sun rose behind her twinkling on the fresh snowfall. Anna sighed happily, as she made her way up the pathway to the door, her mukluks leaving a deep trail through the soft snow behind her.

  She pushed at the heavy oak door, which swung easily on oiled hinges. Stamping her feet to warm them and to knock off the snow she’d brought in with her, she hung up her wooly coat, and removed her boots to be left drying on the heated rack that sat waiting on the slate entry hall floor.

  Slipping into her waiting bunny slippers, Anna headed down the long hallway to her kitchen. Filling the kettle with spring water from the tap, she sat it on the always hot hob of her Aga cooktop. Shuffling through her selection of herbal teas, Anna settled on one with spiced cloves and sweetening the steaming mug with a teaspoon of summer honey.

  With her tea warming her fingers, Anna snuggled into the deep cushions of the sofa she’d placed to overlook the panorama of her back garden. Enjoying postcard-like view of a winter wonderland, she sighed happily as she settled back on the soft cushions and closed her eyes in perfect contentment.

  The alarm rang, jangling her from the peaceful dream that she’d grown to look forward to each night. Hoping the good nights rest would help her get through what she suspected would be a tough day, she muttered, “Up and at-em.” Smiling that she’d inadvertently used her Dad’s favourite morning greeting, as the cat she’d just adopted jumped onto her chest.

  “Good morning, Py.” Anna murmured stroking the cat’s sleek back as she rose from her bed and stretched.

  A bowl of kibbles for the cat, a quick shower, teeth brushed, long blond hair scraped back into a neat ponytail, a bit of lipgloss and wearing her nicest I-mean-business suit, Anna rushed out of her apartment, locking the squeaky door behind her.

  She hurried down the stairs and ran the two blocks to the station to catch the 8:10 train to Alexanders Advertising and Public Relations for a meeting with her boss, Clement Alexander, III at 9:00a.m.

  As the train sped uptown, Anna rehearsed her best, stern no nonsense face; she had a bad feeling she’d need it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Anna

  “Anna, would you focus please?” Clement tapped his carefully manicured nails on the side of his ceramic coffee cup, ‘Worlds Greatest Dad’ the chipped cup proclaimed. Ironic, Anna thought, as she brought her gaze up from her cup to his close set eyes which were currently focused on her cleavage.

  “Sorry, Clem, what were you saying again?” Anna moved slightly, turning her shoulder to remove visibility of anything interesting as she took another sip of her tea. She could feel her anger beginning to boil at both the direction of his eyes, as well as his tone.

  “Anna…” He made a little tent with his fingers on his chin, “The client needs to be closed, their board needs answers, Hell…Anna, so do I.” He ran his meaty hand through his too long hair and resumed his gaze, this time only briefly settling on her chest before moving up to her eyes, “I need you in San Francisco with me, we are a great team and can seal this deal this weekend. I don’t know what your problem is!”

  “My problem, Clem, as you know, is you. The last time you took me on a business trip, it was not so much about business. I want to close this account, I need to get the bonus, but I will not be treated the way I was last time. I didn’t complain about you, and won’t, but it’s not happening again.”

  Anna’s eyes sparked with anger as she closed the distance between herself and the door to his office. Turning before she left his office, Anna looked at him coldly, “I am a professional, and will make the presentation to my client, but I will go alone or not at all.”

  Clem opened his mouth as if to respond, but closed it abruptly. He tried, and failed, to looked shocked at her admonishment and instead waved her away saying, “Whatever. Just do it. Your numbers are slipping. You’re not the golden girl around here anymore.” Clem pivoted his leather chair to look out his window as Anna left, rapidly tapping his mug again, this time in clear aggravation at her defiance.

  Anna closed the door to the office of Clement Alexander the third, or as she preferred, ‘The Terd.’ She leaned against his closed door to steady her nerves and pounding heart, blinking back the tears that stung at the corners of her eyes. Thankfully she’d been able to contain them during their conversation. She’d dreaded the closed door meeting and had known what was coming.

  Regaining her now steady legs, she returned to the cubical with the shiny brass name plate proclaiming its owner, Anna L. Stewart.

  Anna sat down and opened the file on her computer aptly named, 'San Francisco' and printed the work that could be organised and finished at home. Much of it was the hardcopy that she’d make into booklets to leave with the clients, and still more work would involve transferring files to her laptop to be polished and perfected for her PowerPoint presentation to the companies board of directors.

  Eight and a half hours later, a quick look at the clock on her computer told her it was long past quitting time, so she gathered the armload of work she still needed to work on, and headed to the train that would take her downtown to her apartment.

  Friday, Anna thought gloomily, didn’t this used to be the night girls her age looked forward to?

  Feeling a little sorry for herself, she headed towards her train remembering she’d need to make another stop at the grocery before going home because she had another mouth to feed, and she very much doubted he’d like the Indian Take-a-way that was her go-to when she forgot to shop.

  Knowing someone was waiting at home cheered her a little, even if the “someone” had four legs.

  Anna trudged up the back stairway to her apartment, her arms laden with files from the office and two heavy bags of groceries from the market a block away; a day old marble rye bread, cream cheese, a plastic carton of couscous, two tins of tuna, fresh spinach, three cans of vegetable soup, bubble bath and a bottle of cheap chablis. Single-girl supplies. The ever present aroma from the indian take-a-way two floors below her apartment wafted its way up the stairs and into her nose which twitched in annoyance.

  Reaching her apartment, Anna fumbled in her purse for the keys, which always managed to find the deepest, least accessible corner of her bag. Key in lock, turn and a bump with her hip dislodged the door which tended to stick a bit in the corner. She needed to call the super ... again. The door was just one thing on a list that was ever growing longer.

  Once inside, Anna let out a sigh and murmured a soft hello to the black cat weaving in and out between her feet, “Py, I have a treat for you!” The cat jumped onto the counter where she’d dumped her load of work and groceries to nudge her now free hand onto his silken head.

  Py, short for Pyewaket, named from an old favourite movie, and was a recent adoptee from the local shelter the previous weekend. A lady from the shelter had called Anna, explaining a black cat, known only as ‘Male, black, number 284’ had been found in an alley with a microchip showing ‘Anna Lynn Stewart’ as his owner. Even though Anna was certain it was a mistake, once she’d seen him, she was smitten. He was dignity personified; sitting in a cage by himself with his tail curled elegantly around his small body, he’d seemed to be waiting for her. The moment their eyes met, he’d stood and meowed softly.

  It had come as a s
hock to Anna to learn that black cats rarely find homes, apparently many people had some sort of prejudice against them thinking they were bad luck or evil or some such nonsense! In other words if Anna didn’t take him, he was sort of on death row. After hearing that, there was no question that he was going home with her. Although her lease permitted pets, the deposit they wanted was ridiculous, and given the condition of the old apartment carpeting, a ‘security’ deposit seemed grossly unfair. So, Py was a secret and since it was nearly impossible to get the landlord or super to do any kind of repairs or even the simplest maintenance, it seemed unlikely she’d get caught. Besides, she thought as she stroked Py’s blue-black fur, he was cleaner than most of the human tenants in the building and he would keep the rats, which Anna secretly suspected may also be tenants of the old building, away from her apartment.

  Anna dumped a can of tuna into Py’s bowl, just as her phone rang.

  Checking her caller ID, Anna sighed, tucking the small phone under her chin as she answered, “Hi, Mom.”