I wake to Toby jumping onto by bed and feel a tug on my hand that lets me know Freddy is awake and wants up on the bed, too. Grateful that the memory of my dreams disappeared with the rude awakening, I grasp Freddy's hands and pull her up. Opening my eyes to the bright sunlight streaming through the doorway, I see my brother and sister wrestling beside me.
I smile at them and feel the warmth from the depth of my heart. They pause to look at me a moment before flinging themselves onto me simultaneously.
"Happy birthday, Sarah!" Toby shouts a little too loudly in my ear.
My birthday is not until Monday—we are just celebrating today, Saturday—but that is not important. "Thank you, Sir Tobias," I tease, referring to him as Sir Didymus does, "or is it 'prince' today?"
Toby giggles and I smile for a moment. The acknowledgment of my in-between existence is bringing back the memories of my dreams, however, and the smile quickly leaves my face.
Freddy has slid from the bed and exited the room, presumably to coax my stepmother into making breakfast, but Toby remains, and he notices the change in my demeanor.
"Sarah?" he inquires in the lilting accent of a child.
I shake my head, trying to rid it of the images.
"It's nothing, precious thing," I say absently. "I just remembered a dream."
"Dream? But you look—sad."
I look down at him. "Sad" is so simple an expression that I almost laugh.
"Aren't dreams good?"
"Not all dreams."
"So—nightmares, then?"
"No!" I am surprised at the fervent tone of my own voice. "No." I correct myself by saying it softer this time. "They are not nightmares, but nor are they all-good dreams. Sometimes they are the kind of dreams that are happy to the sleeping mind but sad or even," disturbing, "scary to the waking mind."
Toby looks at me uncomprehendingly. He cannot understand. I try to think of something that is good at first and scary later, but only scenarios of the reverse circumstances occur to me.
I have a sudden thought. "Remember when your time in the Castle was just a memory? And you had not told me about it yet, and you had not met my friends, or had the goblins visit?"
Toby nods, so I continue. "You remembered that time fondly; it was like a good dream."
His eyes slowly widen with dawning realization. I pause perhaps a moment too long, fascinated by the intelligence of children, especially Toby who seems to have a greater understanding in some areas that others his age.
"When you first met my friends, and later the goblins, it was scary, right? Even though you thought it was a good dream, later when you experienced it again, it was scary to meet them, and then when you got used to it, you were sad that you could not go back with them."
"Yes," Toby admitted quietly.
"Well, that is how some of my dreams are. They feel good when I am dreaming, but... sad when I think of them when I am awake."
It was a rather simplified explanation, but Toby sought to understand and so I gave him what I could.
"But, Sarah?"
"Yes, Toby?" I look at him as I slip from the covers.
He is silent for a moment, as I rummage for clothes. I look over at him after triumphantly finding something to wear. He appears to have had a brilliant idea. His face is lit up in excitement and he bounces a little in his sitting position on my bed.
"Yes, Toby?" I say a little louder.
He looks at me without his excitement fading. "But you'll be happy again!" With that simple declaration, he scoots off the bed and hugs my legs.
I tilt my head at him. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not scared or sad anymore. I love Hoggle and Didee-mus and Ludo, and Ga, and Ja, and Va, and Za, and even Pillow! So even if your good dreams turn scary or sad for a little bit, soon they won't be anymore! You'll love them!"
"Sarah! Toby!" my stepmother's voice rang up the stairs.
Grateful for the distraction, I send Toby downstairs so I can dress and join them.
I smell the telltale sign of my favorite breakfast as I enter the kitchen and sneak behind my stepmother to help without her noticing.
"Sarah!" she chastises me. She does not have to elaborate. I know she means for me to be spoiled on this my "special day," even if it is only a substitute for the real day.
I giggle uncharacteristically and pick up Toby to put him in his chair. Freddy is already in hers and I hear Dad walking down the stairs. He enters with a surprise—my older brother Robert Jr.
"Robby!" I jump up to suffocate him in a hug and we exchange the usual pleasantries before breakfast distracts us. Robby is eight years older and therefore was an adult (and had already moved out) when our mother left and father remarried and Toby was born. When he left home, he moved halfway across the country to make a life for himself, so I see him rarely.
Crepes and waffles are in the making on the kitchen counter so we can have them hot and fresh. I grab a peach as an appetizer and relish in bittersweet memories as I observe my happy life.
Afterward, Robby and I let Toby coax us into a round of childish card and board games. When the rain subsides, the six of us venture to the nearby park, taking the vehicle rather than walking as I used to do. I chase Toby and Freddy and then pretend to run away from them. We climb trees, I scare them from behind statues, trees, and bushes, and we laze in the grass watching the sky. The afternoon is almost spent and Dad announces, "It is time to go home."
My brothers, sister, and I all grumble, but we reluctantly rise from the grass and head to the car. A cake awaits us at home, along with other baked sweets.
"Mom, you had too much fun," I chide as I view the cookies, brownies, sweet bread, and fruit tarts surrounding the cake.
We let Toby and Freddy eat their fill, along with a generous amount of milk, but my parents, older brother, and I moderate our consumption. After a while of enjoying each other's food-induced silence, there is a knock on the door. Dad looks at his watch, surprised.
Soon, Toby and Freddy are hanging on their second-favorite babysitter.
I kneel down in front of Toby. "Toby, no parties without me."
Dad chuckles, but Toby nods his understanding. I am not sure if he can call the goblins, but if they come to him unbidden he can at least tell them to go away. I already warned them that although my parents would not be home, a stranger would be: so they had better stay hidden. I cannot stop them from spying on him, of course, and I would not, since they report to me.
Dinner is uneventful but delicious.
%%%
My dreams are strong. As usual, I sink first into the memory of dancing. My dress is gaudy. People sneer at me, make fun of me, and the men eye me lecherously. One even sneaks near enough to give me an unwanted compliment. I am searching for something, but I cannot remember what. Then an option presents itself: Jareth. He is familiar. That must be what I am looking for. I pursue him in an unfair game of hide-and-seek. Unexpectedly he is before me. Even less expected: he pulls me into the dance. Mesmerized, I follow his lead. The guests are still laughing at me. They mock my innocence. Something is not right. This is not what I am looking for. The clock strikes twelve. I must find it! I must find what I am looking for. I must get away from these sneering guests and this man who tries to force a kiss on me.
The world shatters around me and I drift into another dream. Like always, my dreams following the dance take me through other memories of the Labyrinth, sometimes punctuated by snippets of memories from the last three and a half years: goblins, friends, odd occurrences. After my life flashes before my eyes, so to speak, my dreams drift into the more expected realm of fantasy. I am not privileged to have the usual fantasies and nightmares of humanity, though. All my dreams center on the Labyrinth and the creatures within. Inevitably Jareth will make an appearance.
%%%
As predicted, I spend all day Sunday with my family. We eat a simple breakfast and enjoy the semi-chaotic company through the afternoon.
"Alice expects to kidnap me early tomorrow, so it is best that I go back." I turn to my parents. "Do you mind if I leave Merlin here while I'm on vacation? I am sorry I did not ask earlier."
They exchange looks before glancing upward, approximately toward the toddlers' room.
Dad answers. "I expect we can manage that. The little ones will enjoy having him near and your mother can walk him while I am at work. If that is alright, dear?" He turns to his wife.
She almost reluctantly nods her head. I know she does not care much for Merlin, but she does care for me. "Two weeks, right? I can manage that."
I smile and envelop her in a rare embrace, partially in thanks, and partially in apology. They think I am actually going on vacation (to California). I cannot tell them Doctor Wheeley forced me to take the time off, nor can I tell them I plan on lazing around my studio apartment instead.