XIII

THE FRIAR, THE BARD, AND THE CONSTELLATION

It was late and Alice was tired after returning from the
Looking Glass world. She was anxious to rest and she was
looking forward to the bonfire the next evening. Alice went to her
feather bed and curled up to sleep with Dinah and the Black Kitty.
While Kitty seemed content to purr and rub against Alice’s feet,
Dinah slept on the pillow to the left of Alice’s head. On the right
side of the pillow, Alice had placed her brown teddy bear Akimbo.

The three fell fast asleep and dreamed of places far but near. Dinah dreamed of
catnip fields. Akimbo dreamed of honey, in hollow trees with swarming bees and golden
nectar running.

Alice dreamed of the bonfire with sparks and flickering light. Into the area
illuminated by the firelight, came all her friends from the land beyond the glass. As each
friend passed the bonfire they heaped upon it sparkling grains of sand, scooped from a
vessel held by an elfin man called Sandy.

The sand glittered and rose with the bonfire smoke and Alice could feel herself
rising. Up and up and higher and higher she went with the smoke and the glitter into the
night until, looking down, the great bonfire appeared to be merely a single glowing
ember.

Alice’s nose began to itch and thinking it might be Dinah’s tail, she waved it
away. But the tickle returned until, recalling her upward flight, she awoke.

After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Alice found that she was no longer in her
bed, but rather she was sitting on a stump, in a tulgey wood, at the top of a great hill,
beneath a star filled sky. Alice was not alone. There was a Friar, with a frond of herb
and a jar of honey in his hands, kneeling beside her and wearing a curious grin.

“Good evening,” said the grinning Friar when Alice had had a moment to take in
her surroundings.

“Have you seen Dinah and Akimbo?” asked Alice.

“Only their dreams,” said the Friar. “See, I have them right here.” And then he
laughed a jolly laugh that echoed back from the woods and grew in volume as he chortled
on.

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 “I know what you are, but not whose you are.” said the Friar. “Do tell me the
name of your personage.”

“Alice.” she replied.

"I wondered if you wouldn’t say that,” laughed the Friar. “But I’m sure you’re
Lewis Carroll.”
“I know who I am and what I am.” said Alice. “I am Alice, a little girl. Don’t you
see? I’ve been to Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.”

“And you, good Friar, who are you?” asked Alice.

‘Oh, I am Friar Mike, a gatherer and a fisherman, but don’t confuse me with a
seafaring man for I’m not the Jonah type. In a moment you will see.” As he spoke a
large and beautiful tent was raised over them. Its walls were adorned with fantastic
images and symbols of far away ancient lands.

“Whose tent is this?” asked Alice.

“Omar’s, of course,” replied Friar Mike. “And a jolly good tent it is, don’t you
think? It’s my gathering place” said Friar Mike. “Behold.”

At that moment the flap of the tent rolled back and the Friar began pulling on
ropes tied around the waist of his cassock. Alice saw that the ropes were attached to a
great net that reached outside of the tent.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Join in and lend a hand!” laughed Friar Mike. “It
will be great fun! Let us see what we have caught.”

With this, Alice and the Friar pulled the great seine into the tent. In its hold came
an orchestra of musical instruments playing the most beautiful songs. The instruments
were followed by voices coming from dancing notes and clefs. The instruments played
and the notes sang and the Friar marched around and around the tent until a most joyous
concert was in full career. All the while the Friar took such great delight in the
performance and was so tickled by it that he began to laugh uncontrollably.

Alice became concerned that the Friar might pop a blood vessel or something.
Nevertheless, the Friar was having so much fun she let him continue.

When the show was completed, the net was again cast out. This time they gathered
in a set of drawings or plans for a great church with a theater included. The Friar laughed
and clapped his hands with glee.
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 Again, with Alice’s help, the great net was cast out and a portmanteau was caught
in the seine and fetched into the tent.

The two opened the portmanteau and out popped the visage of a Bard. The
portmanteau also held several books.

Being no longer cramped by the portmanteau, the visage expanded into a full-
bodied, bearded, Bard who stretched and strutted around the tent. He cleared his throat
and began gesturing and speaking in poetic verse - two quatrains followed by a couplet.

This made the Friar laugh and shake so that Alice appealed to the Bard to help her
in calming and containing the Friar. The Bard however was caught up in his sonnets and
paid no mind.

Alice dashed to the open flap of the tent and called out for assistance. The Friar
continued to laugh and shake until shortly a handsome carriage arrived attended by two
coachmen in great frock coats. The coachmen loaded the gatherings from the net into the
handsome carriage. Next, they rolled out a red carpet and escorted the Friar into the
carriage.

“Where are you taking the good Friar?” inquired Alice of the coachmen.

“Why to the newest of the constellations.” said the coachmen in unison.

“What constellation is that?” asked Alice.

“Why its the biggest and the brightest!” laughed the Friar, “The Oprah
Constellation. It’s at the end of the Milky Way. They have a mad cow there that jumped
over the moon and landed in their midst and they are having a devil of a time casting her
out.”

“It seems that laughter is the best medicine for exorcising mad cows and they have
called upon my services which I shall gladly render.” explained the Friar. “Sweet
dreams, Alice.” said the Friar. “And, by the way, I give you the books that we have
gathered and suggest that you read them."

“What kind of books are they?” asked Alice.

“Why, great books, of course.” said the Friar.

“Thank you - I think.” said Alice.

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 “Read them well and in later life they will serve you in ways that now you can not
tell.” shouted the Friar as the carriage departed to the stars.

Alice was left standing in the tent with only the herb, the honey, the books and the
Bard.

“This has been a most curious evening.” said Alice to the Bard. “Tell me wise
Bard, can you explain this enchanting place to me?”

“Oh wonderful! I have always wanted to play Hercule Poirot in a closing scene.”
said the Bard.

With that, the Bard strode to the stump, mounted it and stood there a moment in
uffish thought preparing to speak. The Bard then bowed and began as thus:

“We are such things as dreams are made of. You are in the place where dreams go
and come. You see the herb? This is catnip, the dream of Dinah. Behold the honey, the
dream of Akimbo. The great books, the dreams of many and the dreams of the wise.”

“As for myself, I have dreamed that all the world ‘s a stage and its people merely
players. They have their entrances and their exits. Likewise, so do their dreams. This is
the place just off stage from whence their dreams enter and to where they exit.”

“But I am not a dream. I am Alice. And the Friar is a Friar.”

“Things are not as they seem dear Alice and men have lost their reason. Take
Friar Mike, he is a cognoscente and occasionally an insomniac. He has special
knowledge not widely available. He knows of this realm and how to come and go and
how to gather peoples’ dreams. You have heard that people should follow their dreams,
have you not?’

“Yes, I believe so!” replied Alice.

‘Well, sometimes when night falls, the good Friar comes here and gathers the
dreams of folks who truly wish they would come true. Then the slumbering folks follow
their dreams back to where he leads them. Having been gathered together, they’re often
fulfilled. He is, you see, a great fisher of dreams. Friar Mike is also a fisher of other
things and to learn about that you must read the greatest of the great books.”

“And now if you will drink of the honey and eat of the herb you will be returned to
your room. I believe I hear your cue and it is time for your entrance. Oh yes, most
definitely. Most definitely it is time for your entrance. Lewis Carroll has picked up his
pen and he is sitting in his study. He has written a mathematics text and has found
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himself in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes. Particularly his fortunes have fallen
with the Queen. Hap’ly he’s thinking on thee and you must go, as did Friar Mike, to play
out your part.”

“Is it the White Queen or the Red Queen’?” asked Alice.

“Oh, the White Queen, to be sure - the pasty white Queen.” said the Bard.

“But what of Omar?” inquired Alice. “You have not told me of him.”

“Ah yes, Omar." said the Bard. “Omar is a Bedouin. He is also a maker of tents
like this one, which he dreamed, would be used by travelers from near and far. I believe
that Friar Mike is nearly done with this tent for I saw the plans for his more permanent
structure.”

“Go now or you will miss your cue.”

“But what of Oprah and her constellation?” queried Alice.

“Be quick and get to your mark!” urged the Bard.

“Oh, please, please, tell me of Oprah!” pleaded Alice.

“Very well,” said the Bard with a sigh. “I had a hand in that. I believe it was
inspired by my play, Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene II. You see, Oprah was fond of my
play and fame was her Romeo. She was so fond of fame and stardom, she dreamed of
actually becoming a constellation, when she read my words:

“Come, night, come, Romeo, come, thou day in night,

For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night,
Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d night,
Give me my Romeo, and, when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

“Thank you, kind sir.” said Alice as she gathered her books and prepared to make
her entrance.

“I bid you adieu.” Said the Bard. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
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 “I shall return to my sleep, perchance to dream.” said Alice as away and down she
floated.

When Alice awoke it was to tickling once again. It was her feet that tickled as
Kitty licked them from her station at the foot of the bed.

“You naughty Kitty,” said Alice. “You must have been awake all night. Were
you off hunting mice? I’ll have to teach you a lesson. Perhaps there’s one in these
books. You're in for it now because a very great lesson I’m assured it will be.

THE END.

Douglas Worrell
February 1998