three beautiful nude women standing on top of a high cliff, singing, as men on the flat ground below the cliff ran crazily forward, smashing their heads into the rock.
He wasn't sure why the dreams had frightened him so, but they had, disturbing him in a way that seemed almost more real than real life.
What was most disturbing, though, was that there was an element of anticipation in the fear. Despite the fact that he was awake and the dreams were over, the unpleasant feelings lingered, and they were not fading residual reactions to something that he had experienced but growing expectant feelings of dread for something that had not yet happened.
He walked into He bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror.
Perhaps he was psychic.
That was a scary thought He took a quick shower, and once again had the sensation that his body no longer fit him.
He pushed that craziness out of his mind.
He hadn't told his mom that he was going out with Penelope today, and after he showered, shaved, dressed, and walked out to the kitchen to grab something to eat, she asked him if he'd mow the lawn this morning.
He told her then that he was planning to go put, and to his surprise she paused a moment before giving her approval. He'd expected her to be understanding, accommodating, completely supportive. She'd seemed excited for him until now, happy that he was finally dating, and even this slight hesitation put him on the defensive. His mom hadn't attacked Penelope, but anything less than total backing smacked of criticism, and he felt immediately resentful. Hell, his mom hadn't even met Penelope.
What was she doing passing judgment?
Maybe she should meet Penelope.
Maybe.
He'd think about that later.
He ate a quick breakfast of toast and cocoa and borrowed ten dollars from his mom, promising to pay her back.
"Pay me back?" she said. "How?"
"When I get a job."
"Are you planning to get a job?"
He grinned. "No. But when I do, you'll be the first person I'll reimburse."
She tossed the car keys at him. "Get out of here."
He was lucky. The car's tank was full, so he didn't have to waste any money buying gas. He hadn't thought of that before. If he had, he would've borrowed twenty dollars.
He backed out of the driveway and pulled' onto the street. He glanced east toward the hill as he drove, and though the sight of the hill had unnerved him in the past, there seemed something familiar and comforting about it now, and he could not remember what had so disturbed him about the hill before.
Although it was only quarter to ten when he pulled up in front of the winery gates, Penelope was already waiting for him, sitting on a bench next to the driveway entrance. He was glad that she was alone, that he would not have to go up to the house and see her mothers. He didn't feel up to that this morning.
She stood when she saw him, and got in the passenger side when he reached over and unlocked the door. "Hi," she said.
"Hi."
They were shy with each other, the intimacy they'd shared on the phone, in the nighttime privacy of their own rooms, making them self-conscious in the rational light of day. Dion was embarrassed as he thought of the way he'd played with himself while talking to her, but he also found himself becoming aroused again.
Would they do it tonight!
He didn't know, but the possibility both scared and excited him.
Penelope reached into her purse, pulled out a newspaper article she'd clipped. "The fair's on Elm, outside of town. You know where that is?"
He shook his head.
"Go down to the next street and turn left. I'll tell you where to go."
"Okay."
They were silent after that, neither sure of what to say or how to act.
Dion wanted to turn on the radio, but he was aware that that would only draw attention to the silence, and he kept both hands on the wheel.
He cleared his throat. "What kind of fair is this? A Lion's fair?"
"No. It's, like, a festival, a psychic festival. They have fortune tellers and tarot readers, stuff like that."
Psychic? That was a spooky coincidence.
"Turn left here," Penelope said.
He did so, glancing to the right at a grove of trees as he turned. The grove looked familiar to him, and as he looked he experienced a momentary flashback to one of last night's dreams.
Women in the forest, naked, smeared with blood, howling wildly, screaming, begging for him "What are you doing?" Penelope demanded.
The car was half off the road and bumping over the shoulder toward the embankment. Dion swerved quickly, too quickly, and Penelope was thrown against the door as the car reentered the lane.
"What was that about?"
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Daydreaming."
He felt a soft hand on his arm, and he realized that this was the first time she had touched him without his initiating the contact. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded. "I'm fine."
But he was not fine. His dreams had escaped their sleep-bound confines and had entered the waking world, intruding upon reality, almost getting them into an accident, and that scared the hell out of him. What was happening? He wondered briefly if it could be something like an acid flashback. Maybe, back in the old days when he was a baby, his mom had put LSD in his milk or some thing, and now he was finally experiencing the side effects.
No, even at her worst, his mom would not have done something like that.
He didn't really think it was anything along those lines, though, did he? He wasn't afraid that it was drugs he'd been given as an infant or ultraviolet rays streaming through the hole in the ozone layer or even mental illness. No. He didn't know what he thought it was. But he knew that it was much scarier than any of those possibilities.
"Are you sure?" she said.
"Yeah." He looked over at Penelope and smiled, and he hoped the smile looked more real than it felt.
The Fourth Annual Wine Country New Age Music and Art Fair was scheduled to open at eleven, but when they arrived a little after ten-thirty, there were already quite a few people milling about, browsing amongst the booths, watching latecomers set up shop on the sawdust. The two of them got out of the car and, holding hands, walked across the small wooden footbridge to the fair entrance. The weekend event had been scheduled originally to be held in the park downtown, according to Penelope's article, but an inability to meet city permit registration deadlines had forced the fair organizers to move to an empty meadow near the foothills.
The change of venue did not seem to have affected attendance at all. A
number of people had arrived before them, and cars were continuing to pull into the makeshift parking lot. A sign above the entry booth said that admission was a dollar for children, two dollars for adults, and that picnic baskets and water jugs were welcome. Dion pulled out his wallet, taking out a five-dollar bill and handing it to the cashier.
"Did you go last year?" he asked Penelope.
She shook her head, smiling. "With who? I had no one to go with.
Besides, I'd never even heard of this thing until this week."
"Really up on current events, huh?"
She hit his shoulder, and that spontaneous expression of camaraderie made him feel closer to her than he ever had before. He put an arm around her waist, drew her to him.
Taking their tickets, they walked through the gate, getting their hands stamped by a ponytailed man in case they wanted to leave the fair and come back later in the day.
Dion looked around at the posters filled with pagan symbols, the booth closest to them that was stocked with witchcraft paraphernalia.
"Are you a Christian?" Penelope asked.
He turned to face her. "Why? Are you?"