I never know where my mind gets the raw materials for these dreams... maybe that's a good thing.
I had just purchased tickets to see a show at a remote concert venue. Much like the Mountain Winery, this site was located in the hills, and surrounded by trees and mostly open countryside. Unlike the Winery, the hill it was located on was low enough that you could easily walk up to it from the nearby roadway in less than 20 minutes.
Rather than driving I had chosen to ride my horse; a dapple grey gelding named Bulldozer. Perhaps my favorite of all time, he was a warmblood mix, and stood almost 17 hands high. Also one of the smartest I have ever encountered, with a tiger-like love of splashing about in ponds and shallow lakes.... regardless of whether you were still in the saddle or not. Rather than ride him down the hill I chose to walk alongside him, giving him a chance to nibble at interesting flora along the way.
We reached the bottom of the road that wound up to the concert site, and turned out on to the main two lane road that ran back towards the city, perhaps eight miles away through the lightly forested low hills and shallow dells. A few other people were also walking in the area, most just getting back to cars parked along the side of the road.
I watched as one man, for whatever reason, decided to cross the road and cut across-country, down a mild slope into an area of open field surrounded by scattered trees and clumps of bushes. The field must have been close to thirty acres over all, and incredibly uneven. He was followed by another man who was planning to drive his car along a rutted path that might have been good for horses or hay wagons; I expected to see him stuck within less than 200 feet.
Turning to the left and my way back home, I was just about to remount Bulldozer when I realized that the random stands of trees and ragged patches of bushes and plants had met up with heavily trimmed and sculpted greenery. Low hedges and tall arched rows of pruned trees led off towards a huge home. We could see that the surrounding land had been leveled and sculpted, to make a slowly rising terrace effect, leaving the house standing on a plateau perhaps ten feet above the outer grounds.
The house itself covered an area at least a full square acre in size. Coming closer I saw that the entire home and a low surrounding wall had been carved in intricate detail, like a Terracotta vase. An amazing pattern of leaves, flowers, and bundles of berries had been carved into the surface, covering almost ten feet before the pattern repeated. The stone had to have been machine cut, so precise was the detail and the pattern. On closer inspection of the wall I saw that additional hand carving had been done, adding small but important variance to the overall visual effect. I could also see now that at random intervals, a small concave leaf-shaped area had been carved into the stone, with a minimum of four or five feet separating each indentation. The concave curves had then been painted or plated with a metallic coating, in various tones from silver, to bronze, to gold. Each little hollow had a small amount of water cupped within. The sky was slightly overcast, so it took a moment before realization struck; under full sunlight or moonlight, these little areas would act like tiny mirrors, producing glimmers of colored light amongst the carvings.
I was so enthralled by the grandeur of the home and the landscaping, it was at several minutes before I noticed an object lying in the grass that surrounded the outer wall. I stepped forward, and realized that I was looking at a gold, or gold plated, device of some sort. An outer shell of metal in delicate filigree, like fine Spanish lace, covered a faceted inner sleeve of clear glass. Inside the glass was an intricate clockwork type mechanism. I had no idea what the thing was, but I could tell that it had fallen and broken. It appeared to have been hanging from the branch of a nearby tree, when the chain supporting it snapped. I was just about to pick it up for closer inspection when another man walking on the road caught up to me.
"You should leave that alone" he told me. "The people in that home are strange, and not very friendly. We don't even know what the family's name is." He went on to tell me that they wouldn't appreciate anyone taking the object, even though it had been lying there broken for months.
"I'm not going to steal it" I told him. "I was thinking I might be able to repair it, and it's too lovely to be left just lying here. I was going to go up and ask them if they would mind."
"Don't do that!" he said. "They hate anyone coming on the property, or bothering them, or....."
That decided me. I picked up the odd device and after leading Bulldozer to a small tree where I could loop his reins, allowing him to graze the neatly trimmed lawn, I approached the house from side. I was immediately struck by the immensity of the home. It reminded me of Chambord Castle in France, though that did not have all the carving. The stone also had a ruddy tone to it, again much like Terracotta, though not so dark.
As I got closer I could see through a ground floor window into a study. The room was filled with either ornate antique furniture (or modern and very expensive replicas of antique furniture). Seated at a low study table was a woman in her early thirties, working on a laptop. Several files were open on the table top, and she was looking through a small stack of papers. She might have been pretty; but there was an air of severity to her that ruined any charms she might have. Although she was alone, she was sitting rigidly upright at the table, as though at any minute she might be graded on her posture.
I could see now that there was a side door, opening onto an inner courtyard. What I had initially taken for the front door was merely the main doorway to the courtyard. As I stepped through the door into the courtyard itself, two young women were just stepping out of the house itself. Both were dressed for riding, and they appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. They spotted me instantly and before I could say a word, they both began ordering me to stay away, to keep my distance, to "vacate our home immediately".... When I spoke, they shut up instantly, as if in shock that a commoner should reply... or as if a cow had spoken Shakespeare. It did occur to me that I was wearing faded blue jeans and a simple black T-shirt, but I had gone out riding an to pick up show tickets after all , not have dinner with the President.
"I would like to speak to your mother or your father, if either is home" I said. At that point the woman I had seen in the study came out through the same door the girls had, trailed by a boy who perhaps was as old as sixteen. He stepped forward and puffed himself up, clearly planning to defend the women from the barbarian at the gates. I was certain the woman was the mother of all three; the resemblance was quite apparent.
She began ordering me off the estate, with exactly the hauteur and arrogance I had expected. I stood there silently, letting her rant and not showing any expression at all, until she began to sputter and run out of steam. When she finally said "Well?" I responded.
"I did not mean to intrude or startle you; nor was I planning on stealing this, as you implied. It would be rather foolish to come up to the front door if I was planning to steal it, would it not? I found this lying by the road, where it appears to have fallen, and I thought I would offer to repair it for you. I believe I can do so, though it is not what I do for a living. " At that point she started up again, telling me they wouldn't pay for unwanted services, and how dare I presume to... at which point I cut her off. Something she was obviously not used to. Her children's eyes nearly popped out in shock.
"I said nothing about payment, nor would I expect any. Had you paid attention you would have noticed that. Rather than listen to you rave any more, I will assume you don't care what I do with this. If I can fix it, I will send it back to you. If I can't I will return it also. Good day."
I then turned and walked out the way I had come. I could hear them talking softly behind me, and when they saw me loose and mount Bulldozer I could clearly hear both girls saying "He rides! Oh my, look at that horse! He's lovely!" The mother must have shushed them and stormed back inside; I could hear the door shut "firmly" (slamming obviously being beneath her). Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of all three children opening the door again to watch me ride off.
After I got home I discovered that I was, in fact, able to repair what turned out to be some odd mix of wind chime and clock; the intricate works inside would stir at the slightest breeze, and a small gearing device wound a spring. A metronome like arm would then begin ticking, and every two hours another bar would begin tapping the hanging chimes in sequence. I was utterly enchanted by the thing. Making sure it was carefully wrapped, I placed it in a box and then decided to add a note, written on the nicest paper I had, and in my best hand. Once again riding Bulldozer I cantered along the road and up to the false front door; I knocked loudly three times, set the box with its note down and swung back into the saddle. I was quite pleased to hear the door open, and a gasp as the woman read the note.
"I am returning your marvelous clockwork chimes, as promised. I was in fact able to repair it, though I am not a craftsman by trade. While nearly thirty hours was spent working upon it, and a small amount of materials, I do not expect payment. Should you choose to do, the cost is a note saying "Thank You". Unlike you in this glittering midden heap, I value manners far more than money."
As I rode slowly off I waved without looking back, knowing they were watching me. They could not see the nearly ear-splitting grin I would not have been able to hide.
