said he could not possibly be telling the truth. âWomen donât snore,â shehad said, a perfectly illogical thing for a woman of science to say, but then there were many things about both my scientific parents that made no sense to me.)
A drawer in the night table by her bed was open, and inside was a small hinged photo display. Feeling a bit guilty, I opened it to discover it contained two pictures of me. I appeared to be about eight years old in both. In the one I recognized my old favourite T-shirt, the one with the enlarged image of the head of a praying mantis. I had a kind of smirk on my face that told the camera I did not really want my picture taken. But I was undeniably cute nonetheless. The other picture of me was less familiar. It appeared to have been manipulated in some way, photoshopped as they used to say, so that my hair was longer, dangling down in front of my eyes, and I was wearing a
South Park
cartoon T-shirt â big oval face with wide eyes. Iâd seen the old
South Park
cartoons on the comedy channel but was never a fan of that style of raw humour. In the background of the photo was another odd thing â the castle that I had once visited, the one that sat high above Loch Ness.
I couldnât imagine why my mother would have had a photo of me altered to look like this, and why it was placed here in the drawer of her night table paired with the other photo. It was as if one was me; one was not me. There was a bottle of pills on the dresser. I pocketed them and would put them on the kitchen table in themorning. I still worried about my mom. Something wasnât quite right.
She snored loudly as I pulled the covers up around her neck. She started to say something in her sleep. I couldnât make out the words but it sounded like she was talking to a child. She was dreaming. The words were slurred from both wine and pills but the tone was obvious. At first she was saying something comforting. I recognized that tone from when I was little. She had a way of making me feel that I was safe, that everything was going to be okay, even when I thought everyone in the world was against me. But then her expression changed and she started to sound afraid. In her dream, something had gone wrong. Something terrible was happening. She was no longer talking to the eight-year-old me in the dream. âNo,â she said, suddenly very distinctly. âYouâre wrong. Youâre lying. It canât be.â
C HAPTER E LEVEN
Despite my worries about my mother, I went to bed and fell into a deep dream. In my dream, I was swimming in Loch Ness again. The water was inky dark and cold but cold in a good way. It was night and the moon was out. I could see the hills and the silhouette of the castle above the loch. At first I thought it was me swimming and I could sense that below me somewhere was the Loch Ness monster. Not really a monster, though, just a lonely, amazingly sad, ancient creature left over from a time long ago. Then the shift occurred again and I realized, as before, that
I
was the Loch Ness monster. It was one of those instant dream transformations that make reasonable sense at the time. My body was immense but I felt graceful gliding through the dark water. Even more amazing was the fact that I suddenly realized Iwas not alone. Alongside of me was another creature, my mate or my twin.
And then all at once the loneliness, the isolation of centuries, dissipated. A feeling of completion and warmth flooded my being. It was as if for the first time in my life, I knew that I was not a tragic isolated quirk of nature, a true freak. I had a companion who was like me.
To the east, I saw the sky beginning to lighten. The sun scattered light over the Scottish hills, while in the west the moon still shone brightly, casting silver daggers and swords of light on the waterâs surface. I watched as my companion dipped headlong into the water and dove deep. I followed and felt the powerful
A drawer in the night table by her bed was open, and inside was a small hinged photo display. Feeling a bit guilty, I opened it to discover it contained two pictures of me. I appeared to be about eight years old in both. In the one I recognized my old favourite T-shirt, the one with the enlarged image of the head of a praying mantis. I had a kind of smirk on my face that told the camera I did not really want my picture taken. But I was undeniably cute nonetheless. The other picture of me was less familiar. It appeared to have been manipulated in some way, photoshopped as they used to say, so that my hair was longer, dangling down in front of my eyes, and I was wearing a
South Park
cartoon T-shirt â big oval face with wide eyes. Iâd seen the old
South Park
cartoons on the comedy channel but was never a fan of that style of raw humour. In the background of the photo was another odd thing â the castle that I had once visited, the one that sat high above Loch Ness.
I couldnât imagine why my mother would have had a photo of me altered to look like this, and why it was placed here in the drawer of her night table paired with the other photo. It was as if one was me; one was not me. There was a bottle of pills on the dresser. I pocketed them and would put them on the kitchen table in themorning. I still worried about my mom. Something wasnât quite right.
She snored loudly as I pulled the covers up around her neck. She started to say something in her sleep. I couldnât make out the words but it sounded like she was talking to a child. She was dreaming. The words were slurred from both wine and pills but the tone was obvious. At first she was saying something comforting. I recognized that tone from when I was little. She had a way of making me feel that I was safe, that everything was going to be okay, even when I thought everyone in the world was against me. But then her expression changed and she started to sound afraid. In her dream, something had gone wrong. Something terrible was happening. She was no longer talking to the eight-year-old me in the dream. âNo,â she said, suddenly very distinctly. âYouâre wrong. Youâre lying. It canât be.â
C HAPTER E LEVEN
Despite my worries about my mother, I went to bed and fell into a deep dream. In my dream, I was swimming in Loch Ness again. The water was inky dark and cold but cold in a good way. It was night and the moon was out. I could see the hills and the silhouette of the castle above the loch. At first I thought it was me swimming and I could sense that below me somewhere was the Loch Ness monster. Not really a monster, though, just a lonely, amazingly sad, ancient creature left over from a time long ago. Then the shift occurred again and I realized, as before, that
I
was the Loch Ness monster. It was one of those instant dream transformations that make reasonable sense at the time. My body was immense but I felt graceful gliding through the dark water. Even more amazing was the fact that I suddenly realized Iwas not alone. Alongside of me was another creature, my mate or my twin.
And then all at once the loneliness, the isolation of centuries, dissipated. A feeling of completion and warmth flooded my being. It was as if for the first time in my life, I knew that I was not a tragic isolated quirk of nature, a true freak. I had a companion who was like me.
To the east, I saw the sky beginning to lighten. The sun scattered light over the Scottish hills, while in the west the moon still shone brightly, casting silver daggers and swords of light on the waterâs surface. I watched as my companion dipped headlong into the water and dove deep. I followed and felt the powerful
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