Chapter Three - EDINBURGH

CHAPTER THREE"EDINBURGH"


School, summer 1980
Your mind has a lot to tell you when you're a Magic Girl. You have to learn to listen. When I was little, I loved to spend time alone. I had to. My imagination could take me on wonderful adventures. Daydreaming was my favourite past-time. Reading fantastic adventures came second. I made up a multitude of friends that no one else could see but me. Some of them were pint-sized shiny people who lived among the trees and plants of our landscaped garden at Villa Rosa. Others were bigger and looked like angels. They had colourful waves all around them that looked like wings. Others were a cross between the two types. They looked like angel-children, or perhaps they were grown-up fairies. I couldn't quite decide as yet. They didn't speak to me so there was no way I could ask them to tell me more about their identity. Finally, on the day my dad left us, my imaginary friends made their tinkling sound heard for the first time, dimly at first, and then very distinctly.
Within a year from their introduction, their shapes had also become visible. They were not material, but more like holograms. In time, we also learnt to communicate through feelings: I could emote with the content of their minds. I didn't quite know what to make of those encounters at first. I enjoyed the company of my shiny friends, especially once mum also left me. By the time I moved in with the Hughes, my sparkling friends had become my regular playtime and school-time companions. I tried to introduce Rufus and Letizia to them, but to no avail. My two friends couldn't see them and thought that my imagination had ran wild again. As they didn't want to upset me, they didn't really say anything. They pretended to go along with what they thought was a game I had made up. But the 'invisibles', as they called them, were real and very useful to me in those lonely years. They helped me to keep my mind away from sadness and onto the more productive joyful frequency that they called the Ancient Tune. This is the frequency that the planet emits. All living species on the Earth are born attuned to it, although humankind in its current state finds it difficult to detect this life-giving hum.
The 'invisibles' were happy creatures so their visits always filled me with a sense of peace and awe. They informed me that I was capable of travelling across dimensions with my mind and emotions, and that I could connect with the people and events, even in the future, that were milestones in the unfolding of my destiny. Their visits stopped when I was 12 and I got my first period. Perhaps becoming an adult coincided with the end of this particular method of communication between us. I wasn't worried. I forgot them at once. They faded out of my mind and into oblivion as my hormones were adjusting to my transforming body. It was a time of change and I was in transit, between the old and the new phase in my life. My adoptive parents were now becoming even more attentive to my needs, and more caring. They wanted to ensure that my growing up was a gentle experience, and that I got the best education possible. I was a very good student and they wanted me to capitalise on my curious disposition. I would be sent to an excellent school for my secondary education.
I visited Scotland for the first time on a family holiday in 1980. We arrived in Glasgow by aeroplane. Ralph drove us through the rugged landscape surrounding the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond, up to the ruins of Urquhart Castle, perched up on a promontory overlooking the mysterious Loch Ness. By the time we reached our five star hotel outside Inverness on the same evening, I had fallen in love with the wilderness of that land and its unkempt majesty. The views I had absorbed oozed mystery and magic. The lochs and valleys spoke of ancient times of war, weeping, doom. But the rolling mist above them whispered old words of love.
I was surprised by the effect that the landscape had on my emotions. I had expected to be bored. I was a precocious teenager back then, enamoured with the British new wave and the Goth movement. My family and I had lived in Italy throughout my primary school studies. But that summer before secondary school, my adoptive parents had decided to move back to Sussex. Rufus and I had welcomed the news with elation. London would be a stone's throwaway, we thought, and with it, concerts, fashionable stores and a wealth of exciting, new cultural trends. I soon discovered that Lord and Lady Hughes had different plans for me. In keeping with the family tradition, I would be boarding in the same school in Edinburgh where Henrietta had studied, and where my sister Ruby would soon be completing her final year. That summer holiday was my parents' attempt to make me fall in love with the Land of Alba. They had succeeded.
My heart felt at home in Scotland. I was meant to go there for many reasons, some of which I could only intuit. I was intrigued. During our car journey, I could effortlessly hear the music of the plant devas. The light had a timeless, otherworldly quality in the Highlands. I understood that I was on the cusp of something I couldn't quite pin down, but which held my soul in its hands nonetheless. Strong, sudden sensations of longing came to inhabit my chest that day. At first, I interpreted them as my soul telling me that I was going to become and artist. Or perhaps I was going to fall in love soon. Or both. I had wanted to fall in love since my 12th birthday. Not with Rufus though. With somebody special, a boy who was my perfect match as chosen by the Power of Creation itself. But how could that happen when I was soon going to be a boarder at the most prestigious all girls' school in the country? And when I had barely entered adulthood after all?
My biological parents, Laura and Lorenzo, had been in love with each other. But their love had burned their minds out too fast. I was the physical fruit of that initial flame. By then, I had learnt not to miss them, nor resent them. I had to let them go, that was all. That longing I was starting to feel had nothing to do with the tragedies of my past. They were not mine, they didn't belong to me. That yearning was a call for freedom: my own. I was growing up and it was time to find the way to let my life develop along it course. Lord and Lady Hughes were right: Scotland felt like home, but the reasons for which it did still eluded me, and were not what my adoptive parents had in mind.
I moved to St Arnold's School for Girls the following August, with eleven other first graders. Ruby was there to greet me and help me through the first days of my life away from our parents. When she met me in the hall, she looked grown up and elegant, even in the burgundy jacket and grey skirt we had to wear at all times when we were on school grounds. She was delighted to see me and gave me a bear hug.
"You're not going to like wearing this, Kassie. None of us does. But if I can look so good in this", she gave me a twirl, "so could you".
She was a very attractive young woman now. Her shape was different from mine: her body was voluptuous and markedly feminine, in contrast with my child-like, waif-like limbs. Her beauty was earthy and sensual, while mine was diaphanous and otherworldly. It would always be like that. We were the gestalt of womanhood. The best thing about the year ahead was going to be the opportunity I had of spending time with my sister. She was a legend to me, like older siblings tend to be to their younger ones. While my bond with Rufus was one of affection and fun, that with Ruby was more to do with the acknowledgement of a spiritual affinity, albeit from a distance up to that point. Ruby and I had always liked each other despite the six-year gap between us. We understood that we were special people, endowed with special powers. We never as yet talked about it. It was just a gut feeling, a telepathic symbiosis. And just like me, she always managed to get what she wanted if she put her unfaltering mind to it. We had never spent much time together before as she would only visit our family during her school holidays. Now I would have her company for nine months. She was going to be my first mentor, I hoped.
Ruby loved to travel and had been on the Orient Express the previous summer. Our parents didn't mind sponsoring her cultural eccentricities. I was curious to find out about her latest adventures. Before departing, she had announced to the family that she was about to embark on a quest to find her true purpose in life, in order to select the most appropriate academic pathway in the following year. She leaned towards studying psychology and languages but had not made up her mind yet. But the true reason for her journey, which she had revealed only to me, was that she was actually looking for something deeper than the university she would eventually attend. Why the Orient Express route anyway? What had called her in that mysterious direction? She needed to find out.
Despite her breath-taking beauty, she had no interest in having a boyfriend yet. She was aware of how interested boys were in her, of course. And perhaps she was also learning to manipulate their attention. But her main concern was with esoteric studies. She kept it a secret from our parents but not from me. She trusted that I was her ally. Studying the Secret Tradition had been a burning passion for Ruby during the past year. Only people with a very spiritual make-up are interested in exploring the spiritual aspects of life at a time when their peers concern themselves with the will of their hormones and romantic emotions. Only those of us who are called to discover the invisible realms can resonate more readily with the impulses of timelessness and synchronicity. Ruby knew that her journey would reveal the next chapter of her life, and the city where she would choose to live as a university student the following year. She needed to be in the place first, to experience it and let it speak to her.
She had told me as much in a postcard from Budapest, where she had ended stopping her journey and staying for a month. From the moment the train had pulled in at the station, she was sure that the Hungarian capital was the right place for her. It didn't matter that she didn't speak any Hungarian and that she knew nobody there. She was going to live and study there. The signs were everywhere: she had found a room to rent in a building on Rózsa utca, the Street of the Rose, a clear Rosicrucian reference. The Secret Tradition that she belonged to on the inside was approaching her on the outside at last.
"I am an alchemist, Kassie, and I follow the map of my heart. I've been looking for people like me for as far as I can remember. I know you were one of us from the moment I met you. But there are many more and we must find them and rally them together. We must create a Magic Movement".
"Who are they? Have you find some in Hungary?".
"My path seems to be stretching in that direction. And yours must have taken you here for a reason too. I haven't met these people yet but I have a feeling that important lessons are waiting for me in Budapest. That city will be my learning ground. And since we are synchronised, Kassie, I bet Edinburgh has more in store for you than the teachings of these nuns at St. Arnold's!"
The sound of the school bell erupted through the remnants of a summer sky. Ruby winked at me and pulled my arm to signal it was time to go back to the hall. She put her index finger on her lips. I nodded and slipped my bag across my shoulders. The roll was about to be called and we had to rush back to the entrance. It wouldn't have been a good move to be late on my first day.

#

Strange Events, January 1991
"There, Gwen, I can see him. He's by the cigarette machine and talking to Rufus. And now what? I'll go over and my bro will say hey, this is my sister, nice to meet you, she's lived in Scotland for a number of years, doing her finals at uni, studies medieval history, fond of horse-riding and hocus pocus, and this is her flatmate, at art college, from Wales, they were at St. Arnold's together, blah blah blah."
Harry's Bar was buzzing that Friday evening, pretty much like any other night. No surprise, since it had been awarded 'best venue' at the end of 1990. It was now January 1991 and the place had become the favoured drinking joint of a crowd of footballers, rugby players and an array of local celebrities and wealthy businessmen. It was also every pretty girl's favourite platform to showcase her assets. For the most ambitious women, it was the ideal hunting ground for bagging oneself a boyfriend who was famous, or rich, or both.
Kassandra was on a mission that night. She had fallen in love with the most sought after bachelor in town, and tonight her brother was going to introduce her to him. But every single girl in the bar looked like a perfect clothes horse with big boobs, all long legs and wavy long hair. Kassie was feeling very small, vulnerable, and very aware of it all of a sudden. Her blood was doing a jittery dance in her veins. She was nervous, and that was a first. After all, she was one of the most popular girls at Edinburgh University, and not a stranger to the art of breaking young men's hearts. Why would Gordon Steward have to be any different from her previous conquests? Why did she feel so overwhelmed by the idea of meeting him?
"Kassie, relax, you can't speak to him while you're as hyper as this. He'll think your high on coke or something. You're speaking at the speed of sound and it's not attractive at all. Slow down, breathe. Tell me, what do you think of him in person? Do you still fancy him?"

Kassandra had seen Gordon on television a few weeks earlier, shortly before the Christmas holidays. She wasn't dating anyone at the time because her intention was to stay single throughout her final year, and concentrate on her studies. But when those big, deep blue eyes had come on the screen, she had felt Gordon's stare cut into her chest, probing for her soul's attention. Bang! Taken! At once. How weird. She had fallen in love with his eyes. She sensed the dark story that his soul was reaching out to tell her, like rays through the pixels forming the image of his face, projected by the camera to the centre of her heart, where Gordon was pitching his tent.
Christmas would soon provide her with free time away from the books and her thesis on the Knights Templar in Scotland, and with the opportunity to hone her plans to seduce the famous golfing champion. She was sure that the Universe would assist her in her new romantic enterprise. But she was truly surprised when Rufus, during their family Christmas dinner, had mentioned Gordon as 'his mate'. Best festive present ever! She had feigned surprise and said she didn't know who this sportsman was. Golf had never been one of her top interests after all. Polo perhaps, through the Hughes' influence, and football for sure. She was Italian after all. Golf? An old man's activity in her books. Rufus had insisted that it wasn't so, it was quite sexy. He had taken up golfing at the same exclusive club where Gordon's marvellous practice was a regular feature. With mates in common, the two young men had become friends as they were both at St. Andrew's University.
By the end of the Christmas dinner, before the Kimble, Kassie had already been informed that Gordon was one year her senior at twenty-four, not particularly interested in his engineering studies, a bit of a lad and a playboy, and soon to spend time in Edinburgh where he intended to buy property, in the fashionable Dean Village. Rufus wanted her beautiful sister to meet his new friend. Gordon had expressed his interest in her exotic looks and sophisticated upbringing from the moment he saw her photograph in Rufus's apartment. Once again, Kassandra was getting what she wanted without even lifting a finger. And now he was standing in front of her in Harry's Bar.
"He's the perfect specimen, isn't he? He must be used to catwalk models and actresses for what I know. Not to pint-sized enchantresses like myself."
"Kassie, you've just said it yourself, you're an enchantress and I'm yet to meet the man who can resist your charms. I share a flat with you after all, and the number of notches on your bedpost is quite remarkable. And you're not a midget, you're petite and fairly stunning. No point in throwing this cold feet party right now. Come on, move, chop chop! Your brother is waving at us!".
The two young men approached the girls and Rufus took care of the introductions. No sign of Kassandra's supposed insecurity was detected as she made a beeline for the Scotsman's heart. By the end of the night, she and Gordon left Harry's Bar in the same taxi, headed for a club in his hotel. It wasn't just a case of young hormones and physical attraction though. The two had discovered that they had something in common: a connection with Kassandra's academic obsession, the Knights of the Temple of Solomon. That day, Gordon was in town to finalise the purchase of an area with a building permit, near a cemetery on the Dalkeith Road. Plans were being made to have his penthouse built there, over the year ahead. When he mentioned the location, Kassie's eyes had almost popped out of her head and she had proceeded to ask for exact coordinates of the place. The area, she informed him, had once housed the Residence of the Knights Templar. Nearby, once stood a chapel erected on a hillock known as the Mount Hooly, which belonged to the Templars. That was their holy ground, the very heart of their secret rendezvous and exchange of esoteric knowledge.
"Can I visit the building site before the bulk of the works start? Please?".
Gordon enjoyed seeing the excitement in those long-lashed green eyes, and was already thinking of what he could do with his buddy's sister once the visit to Dalkeith Road was over. In the bar, she had seemed very cold towards him, and a bit too full of herself for his liking, up until that lucky point in their conversation when he had mentioned the address where his new house was going to be. He thought he would impress her with the details of the plan, which involved a top-of-the range penthouse equipped with a few Jacuzzi tubs and an indoor swimming pool. Dalkeith Road was also the ideal location to go for walks on Arthur's Seat, the main peak in Holyrood Park, with Moses, his Irish setter, and a ball, a tee and a club. Now he could also place the lovely young daughter of Lord and Lady Hughes in the picture. Although the way in which she got in there was not quite what he had planned.
Never mind. He would take her to 'feel the energy of the Templars", as she had requested. A weird girl, for sure. Nobility was always eccentric anyway. And Rufus had also warned him that nobody could stand in the way of her studies. She wanted to be an academic. He wasn't used to women like her. They normally melted in his stare. Showbiz, models and the odd easy one had been his staple sexual diet, by the dozen every month. Now Kassandra was here to challenge his habits. He could picture her naked, with her small breasts, firm tummy, lovely round bottom, skin like velvet and the colour of honey. She smelled pure and expensive. While they were sitting close to each other in the taxi, he had to struggle not to give in and bury his face in her long hair.
She kept talking of these mysterious Order that had been put on trial in Edinburgh in 1309. They held secret knowledge and were in possession of holy relics from the Crusades. Gordon had only the faintest notion of these Knights before that night. Now they were his ticket to one of the most coveted young women in Scotland. Perhaps he should consider having a girlfriend. Especially one who seemed to be more interested in her books and legends than his muscular body and rising fame. He would always love a challenge. He was born to be a winner. The harder a time she would be giving him, the more he would pursue her. And the 'holier than thou' she made herself out to be, the more pleasure he would get once he could enter her doggy style, and make her scream his name, begging him to give her some respite from the wave of orgasms shaking her to the core.
When they reached the Carlton Hotel, snowflakes started to dance in the air. A good sign, Kassie thought. Gordon didn't even notice.

#

Star Dream, 10 December 1992
Love was to sweep me away like a waterfall in the twenty-sixth springtime of my life. Right then, it was still the winter before such a wondrous time. I was twenty-four and didn't yet have an idea of the size of the feeling that would hit me a few months later. I can zoom into that day very easily: another grey morning was about to break and the seven hills of Edinburgh were shrouded in cold mist. In one of the Georgian houses in the New Town, I was fast asleep in my blue bedroom.
I had painted the whole room that colour a few months earlier, during a bout of misplacement activity whilst studying for my Master’s Degree. Blue would help my mind focus on the books, I thought, so I had varnished the floor boards "the colour of the Ionic sea", as I informed Gwen, one of my two flatmates. "I'll have the walls in a hue akin to the Italian sky at the offset of spring, when the air is a-blaze with the love-spell of blossoms." I had a penchant for metaphors at that age, especially when I was talking to myself or I was day-dreaming.
Many of my friends didn't like that: "Come on, Kassandra. You must be doing that on purpose. Do you think such affectations make you come across as different?" Gwen didn't share their point of view, so I could let my fondness of enchanting descriptions emerge in our conversations. My Welsh flatmate was an artist who understood that imaging is the staple of life, and words are symbols made to encapsulate stories, convey moods and capture dreams. In years to come she would become a prominent member of the Transformation Movement, the worldwide association for the evolution of humankind which I would found in 1997.
At that point in time, I was fast asleep and still unclear as to my specific role in the Arkadian Plan. The curtains were pulled. In my dreams, my kaleidoscopic thoughts were immersed in the world of my imagination. It was 5.40 in the morning and my mind was lulled by a vision: I lived on a star I was at one with. With no boundaries, I floated and whirled in a fairy-tale landscape of a pinkish radiance. The environment looked beautiful and liquid. Objects and people were outlined in vivid colours interwoven with harmonious sounds and a palette of delicate, happy feelings. It was a familiar place. An invisible melodic drone underlined this magical climate. My heart, eyes and ears were processing this dream-world in complete synchrony, producing a mono-feeling of bliss that I hoped would last forever and I could remember upon awakening.
Possibly, that dream had something to do with the large amounts of marijuana muffins my flatmates and I had baked and feasted upon the night before. But this thought had not entered my dream at all. Instead, I was floating down the stream of notes, sounds and pulsations that felt like an echo through my body. My hands were resting on my tummy, sensing the drone of musical beats running through my veins. It was pleasant and arousing. I wasn't alone in my vision. A strong sexual presence followed me: male energy with a powerful sensation of longing. The whole being of this man was pining for me. His breath drew me to the centre of his heart where there was a waterfall of emotions. I couldn't quite see him, yet I felt complete in his company.
I stirred in my sleep. My arm stretched out to look for Gordon. He wasn't in my bed that morning. So I let my fingers slip inside my knickers instead. My body was then filled by a stream of gentle Light-beats. It felt like a musical instrument. The intensity of the starry pulsation grew as my limbs turned to velvet and sounded like an orchestra. Somewhere in my chest, there was a loud hammering. My heart was the bass drum. The sound grew more thunderous and sharper, filling the space between my cells with the distinct tinkle of triangles, cymbals and bells, the loudest bells in the Universe. My fingers kept busy. Climax was approaching. Whirlpools of metallic reverberations travelled up to my head and into my ears in waves of sparkling chimes, on and on like a fountain, like a waterfall upside down.
Just a fraction of a second from pleasure, the alarm went off on my bedside table. Its metallic shrieks sounded as sharp as an icicle collapsing on the snowfall-like silence of my bedroom. My hand abandoned the warmth of my thighs to silence the clock. 6 a.m. My awareness returned to my youthful body. I became the university student again, on automatic pilot. With my eyes half-closed and star-fragments still scattered in my mind, I got out of bed and dragged myself to sit by the window. Not a sound came from the crescent below.
"What a dream," I thought. Its meaning was beyond words. I remembered flashes of sensations, sounds and emotions. Breathing deeply to make myself awake, I parted the muslin curtains to see the outside world. It was snowing. The coldness of the weather moved through my limbs, bringing me back to this new day. Lampposts were lit. Their dim light pierced through the blackness preceding the dawn and across the whiteness of the ground. I sat on the floor resting my back on the radiator. The heat was the first material gift of the day. But it could not be compared to the marvels that had filled my senses just a few minutes before. I smiled from the heart. There was something familiar about that dream: the intimacy of eternity.
As I lit a stick of incense, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the fire place. Despite my bed hair and the dark circles around my eyes, I could see why men found me irresistible. That morning I also noticed something new in my features and expression; a fresh injection of Life Force had been instilled in me. This is the power that comes from the centre of the Universe. "Thank you, Life," I said. High time was approaching to fulfil my role in the Plan, and express my True Identity. Perhaps what I was supposed to do would soon become clear.
My actions were as measured and poised as usual. Just like any other day I first went to the toilet and then stopped in the kitchen to drink a glass of hot water with lemon. I thought my flatmates would be asleep for another couple of hours. But I was surprised by a hushed rustling coming from the kitchen. Sam was already up, making scrambled eggs on toast for his breakfast. The caffettiera on the stove was whistling its aromatic tune. He had exams that morning, and he was very nervous.
He lowered his eyes when he saw me. I kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his blond curls. His mind seemed miles away. I loved Sam like a brother, although he disliked my boyfriend from the start. Gordon had entered my life almost two years before, bringing the rough throes of his material world into my flawless, ethereal precinct. He was a professional golfer and my antithesis by all means. I was an easy prey to his chiselled looks and boyish charms because, for all my depth, I was equally vain then. I was twenty-three when we met, and much of my current wisdom was only hinted at. It often pointed me in the right direction though it still lacked the depth of experience.
Sam's eyes were sunken and grave that morning. Did he also guess that time had come for me to embrace my role, and that I would soon leave Piper's Crescent?
"Morning, Kassandra", he said.
He looked very, very tired.
"Have you been up all night, Sammy boy?"
I placed my hand on his chest: his heart was racing, as I expected. He nodded and blushed, always puzzled at how easily I could touch others without announcing it. My energy made him feel calm.
"You're a genius anyway, put those books down!"
I laughed and closed the door behind me. The house was silent apart from my footsteps on the cracking floorboards of the long, cluttered corridor. I tread carefully as I walked past Sam's bedroom and three stacked-up bicycles. Stepping over boxes, coats and hats, I passed by Gwen's tiny box-room, which was adjacent to my own. Ours was a typical student house. It's still amusing to remember the contrast between the order in my room and the chaos outside it. I opened the door to my "magic bedroom." The sweet scent of incense welcomed me in, soothing my senses and making me feel at home again. I couldn't bear messy environments or chaotic emotions for too long: they upset my eyes and heart respectively. I needed clarity and space all around me.
My room was wide and airy, a Georgian sanctuary to my strong aesthetic sense. My bed was by the window, opposite the fireplace. The large McIntosh-like mirror made the room appear even bigger. A crystal chandelier was hung from the ceiling. Its light danced on the floor in waves that made it look like water. Shelves were stacked with books on the Templars, the Theosophical Society and other esoteric traditions. I had carved out a sitting room area next to the fire place. It consisted of a settee covered by a golden Damascus throw, and a coffee table made of ivory and wooden plugs. This room was my pride and joy, my temple.
The yoga mat was rolled out on the floor. I lit the gas fire, slipped out of my pyjama and put on my leggings and a vest. I clang my Tibetan bells three times and proceeded to salute the Sun with a flow of graceful movements; they were like second nature to me. I loved this moment in my day. It seemed as if time stood still and offered space to potentiality. I called it contemplation through action. After my yoga session, I meditated for ten minutes and then did some journaling back in bed.
By 7 a.m. I needed my breakfast so I went back to the kitchen. Sam was taking a shower. He had left some hot coffee in the percolator. I poured myself a cup and put a slice of rye bread in the toaster. Just as the toast popped up, Gwen walked in. We sat at the table and talked about the dreams we had the night before. She always related her dreams to me. I had studied psychology as part of my undergraduate degree and developed an interest for dream analysis. My flatmate illustrated her dream of the previous night, which was about a river of music and light. To her surprise, I told her I had had a similar nocturnal experience.
As we were reminiscing over the feelings associated with our dream, Brad, a black model from Chicago who was Gwen's new lover, surfaced from her room. Everyone was up unusually early that day. It transpired that we'd all dreamt what seemed to be the same dream. We all roamed sound-filled, starry climes. While I had been woken up by my alarm, the other two had been jolted out of their slumber by a vivid semi-orgasmic sensation in their limbs that they had never experienced before. It had nothing to do with their intimate rendezvous, they swore. It seemed that we each had our own special take of the experience, and we all described it from the perspective of our own consciousness. There was no doubt whatsoever that we had landed in the same "place" during our sleep. That freaked them out. Gwen's star might have been more colourful. Mine seemed more magical. Brad's was more physical. But it was the same star nonetheless.
The coincidence of three people catching the same imagery and sensations during sleep, on the same night, was beyond statistics. I loved coincidences. The others didn't. Gwen thought we had taken too much hash. Or perhaps our house was receiving dangerous radiations from some secret technical equipment. Brad did not really say much but kept staring at me, which I didn't mind as he was quite easy on the eye.
Unlike them, I knew that star like the back of my hand. Sometimes I could even reach it through the power of my intention. That shared vision was fantastic news. I couldn't wait to speak to Dr. Boyd at the School of Parapsychological Studies. She might help me figure out the full meaning of the event. This wasn't the first instance of some metaphysical oddity in the house. After all, Piper's Crescent, where we lived, lay on a very prominent ley-line, one of the Earth's power-spots. I hoped this experience meant that the Arkadian Plan was becoming manifest. If so, Dr. Boyd would be ecstatic. What about Lord and Lady Hughes? And Maria-Carmen and Lydia at the Godhead Society? I couldn't wait to let them know what had happened.
For all my enthusiasm, there was definitely someone I wouldn't want to inform of this odd occurrence: my boyfriend. I knew he wouldn't be interested in the slightest. He would find it funny, if not ridiculous. A veil of sadness descended on the crimson of my cheeks. I shook it off. Gordon was my 'aspect out of balance', and the fact was daunting. I still hoped it might change. That was no time for sentimentality though: I had to get going. The snow was still falling and the city was as pretty as a Christmas postcard. The day was alive with the promise of wonders ahead. My holy heart was singing because I had found the Key connecting me to my Birth Star, the Key that was going to kick-start my transformation. The Arkadian Plan was definitely unfolding.