Very quickly, we found ourselves back in the land of glowing flowers, strolling through an open meadow, dotted with pink and purple foxglove. We crossed a road, climbed a dirt path and after a few minutes of walking, came to stand before Stow Lake, a man-made lake established in Golden Gate Park in the 1800’s. Half-dressed and disheveled, I paused on the sidewalk, transfixed by a small island a few hundreds yards inside the enormous lake from where I stood. The island, shrouded in mist and almost completely covered by a fallen tree and overgrown flowering vines, seemed to be calling to my overheated body.
It didn’t take much for me to oblige.
“Hot!” I cried out, and waded into the lake.
“Olivia, noooo!” came Lily’s frantic cry, as she jumped in after me.
We swam to the island, but never made it out of the water thanks to a ring of thorny blackberry bushes lining the shore. Rebuffed, we made our way back onto dry land. Standing on the sidewalk and dripping wet, Lily removed a small towel from her pack and handed it to me.
“It’s not much, but it will help dry you a bit,” she said, rubbing the water off of her arms and legs as she spoke.
I sat down on a nearby bench and began to listen to the world around me. A cacophony of sounds rang in my ears. I could hear the fish swimming below the surface of the water. I detected the faint sound of owls in the trees rustling their wings. Smiling, I took Lily’s hand in my own.
“This place is alive,” I said with conviction.
Lily smiled and squeezed my hand back. “See what you have been missing,” she said gently. “Now, you are really alive, too.”
****
CHAPTER 10
My first sensation was of something cold and hard pressing into my lower back. Then the smell of damp, rotting plants filled my nostrils. I remained motionless, trying to recall what had happened. Where was I? Then I remembered my adventure in the park and the tea Elsa had given me that caused me to hallucinate.
I lay still, testing my body. From one limb to the next I wiggled, waiting for injuries and pain. I moved my head from side to side and slowly opened my eyes. As soon as I focused I recoiled, for there, not an inch from my face, was an egret. The small, white bird was studying me. I smiled at him. “Either you are in the wrong place, or I am sleeping in your bed,” I said quietly to the bird.
The egret opened up his wings and flew away as I sat up to survey my surroundings. I was sleeping on a small patch of dirt inside a lily pond near the side entrance of the de Young Museum. Why here, of all places, I wondered, and then I recalled hearing a man’s voice at the end of the evening. The voice was insistent, urging me to leave my old life behind to join him. I had followed the voice, getting as far as the museum, but could not find its source.
At some point I must have lost Lily and come back here to fall asleep, choosing to slumber beside a statute of Pan with his lute. Now, as the light of day pressed against my sensitive eyes, the nature of my situation dawned on me. I was a half-dressed woman trespassing on city property, and I needed to get up and leave before someone saw me. The good news is that given the kinds of characters that inhabit San Francisco, I wasn’t too worried about looking odd as I strolled back to my house. I was certain my unkempt nature wouldn’t raise so much as an eyebrow.
I wondered what had happened to Elsa. I concentrated for a moment and then, one by one, the images of the night returned. I recalled with clarity that Elsa had disappeared into the fountain. I remembered the bright light and her attempt to shield me from it.
My running shoes were sitting next to me and I reached over to slide them on to my filthy, bare feet. As soon as I climbed out of the pond and hopped onto the sidewalk, I spotted Elsa sitting on a bench nearby. Her eyes shut, and she appeared to be dozing lightly. I walked toward her, intending to gently tap her on the shoulder, but as I approached she