A Lady Under Siege

13

“So what I’m hearing you say is, you don’t believe you’re dreaming. Instead, in your sleep, you’re observing this young woman, this Sylvanne, as she goes about her real, actual life in some other time and place.”

“That’s it, exactly.”

Jan had proved as good as her word—she had phoned Anne Billings and begged her to investigate the curious case of the Lady under siege, who came each night to Meghan in an unbidden, relentless, haunting dream. The psychologist had been intrigued enough to suggest a meeting, and by chance had a cancellation for the next day, a Saturday afternoon. Meghan had jumped at the offer, even though it meant leaving Betsy alone at home again. Now the two women sat in comfortable high-backed armchairs in a book-lined office.

“All right,” Anne continued. “Now, while you’re sleeping, and watching all this, do you experience any of the sorts of surreal tangents we commonly associate with dreams?”

“None,” Meghan answered. “Everything that happens happens at the pace of real life, and there are no weird or bizarre dream-like moments at all, ever. Everything is consistent, and precise, and detailed, and just, real. It’s like I’m in her head, experiencing everything she goes through, feeling all that she feels.”

“So you become her?”

“No, not exactly. I’m still aware of myself too, like I’m inside her, but not her.” Meghan paused. “I do know she looks like me, because when she looks in a mirror it’s my face looking back at me, but she is definitely not me. She’s Sylvanne, a different person entirely, and I’m just in there, watching. I can’t influence her, or communicate to her at all. She never acknowledges me. I’m sure she doesn’t even know I’m there.”

Anne took notes. Meghan watched her for a moment, then said, “Is it common? Is it a condition with a name?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Can you dream something you’ve never even heard of, then later discover it actually turns out to exist? The story of Judith I told you about, I researched it online—Judith and Holofernes. It’s accepted in the Catholic Bible, but most Protestant ones keep it separate, in the Apocrypha. Considered apocryphal, I suppose, not to be trusted.”

“Maybe you have heard Judith’s story before,” Anne suggested. “You may have forgotten, at least your conscious mind might have. And it’s popping up in your dreams.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never much troubled with the Bible.” She paused. “God—I’m starting to sound like her. That’s exactly what she told her husband.”

“It isn’t necessary to have read the Bible,” Anne suggested. “Perhaps it reached you from another source. You said you were a designer—ever study art history?”

“I did, actually. And I still do from time to time, just looking for inspiration, when I’m designing book covers or promo materials.”

“You’re very lucky. I’d love to do something like that,” Anne said. “I love art, but I have no talent in that direction. So I remain a fan, not a practitioner. I do know that a great many artists have painted Judith and Holofernes. Caravaggio, for one. I saw the actual painting in Rome—I remember thinking the model looked a little too ambivalent in the act to be convincing. If you’re going to chop a man’s head off, then you need to commit to it totally at a certain point, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” said Meghan.

“There’s a better version by Artemisia Gentileschi, another Italian from about the same era, a woman painter, which was rare,” Anne continued. “She tackled it several times, I think to a certain extent as therapy—she was raped by her art teacher. Her Judith is all business, getting down to the job as though she worked in a butcher shop.”

“I have a ton of art history books at home,” Meghan said. “I’ll look for it.” She thought for a moment. “It’s funny, you saying you’d love to be doing something else. I’d have thought your job would be fascinating, but I suppose it’s hard, listening to all the weird crap that comes out of people’s minds.”

“Not as hard as it must be to have the weird crap in your mind.”

“Right,” said Meghan. “We’re here to talk about me, not you.”

Anne said nothing, and wrote in her notepad.

“I was hoping you’d say more,” Meghan said.

“Unlock the mystery for you? I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“What about first impressions? Give me a little.”

Anne considered for a moment. “This Sylvanne. Since you began to dream of her, and let’s call it a dream for lack of a better term, it would seem she has never been in control of her destiny. She’s been the victim of a siege, laid for unclear reasons by a power unseen, namely this Thomas of Gastoncoe. On that front, progress is being made. You are being taken to meet him, and for better or worse, good or bad, there’s a goal in mind when you get there.”

“She’s being taken. And the goal is in her mind, not mine.”

“In any case, you’re on your way to a resolution. Maybe when she meets Thomas, it will become clear.”

“I hope so,” said Meghan. “I wish she’d hurry up and get there. Why couldn’t I be in the head of someone modern, they’d just drive over in their car.”

“Yes, it would be nice if they could just straighten it out with a phone call,” Anne agreed. They shared a smile. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Good,” said Meghan. “Sorry if I jump up and run, but I’m really antsy to get home. I’ve left my daughter alone for the second time in three days, and last time was the first time ever, so I’m feeling super guilty about it. My life is chaos.”

“Maybe next time we’ll have to talk a little bit more about you,” Anne said. “There might be two ladies under siege in this equation.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Meghan said. “Could be projection.”

“I think there’s more than that going on,” Anne suggested. “I’m actually quite fascinated by your case, and I do want to see you regularly while we try to get to the bottom of it. I might like to write a paper for a journal of psychology about it, which could make you the star example of an unheard-of condition. Would you be alright with that?”

“Sure,” said Meghan. “Do you think I might be channelling a past life?”

“First I’d have to believe in past lives, then in channelling them. Unfortunately I don’t.”

“Sorry. I know it’s unrealistic, but I guess I was just really hoping I’d come here and there would be a breakthrough, in terms of answers.”

“Well. Our Lady Sylvanne is on the move. The answers you’re so eager for might be coming soon enough, in your sleep.”