Chapter Text
Feathers lined the landing. Weird looking feathers, and only a few of them. I looked up towards the ceiling, confused. Where did they come from? I swept them away, and didn't think much else about them. The next day, there were more feathers. Fluffy and white, pristine in color, with sharp bristles at the tip.
The same thing happened the next day, more feathers. And the next day. And the next. The day after that, there was a rapping at the front door. I opened it to a tall, thin lady. It was hard gauge her age. She wore a long purple coat, and her hair was trimmed into a neat ginger bob. She had a purple hat on to match the coat, and in it, one of the fluffy white feathers.
I was taken aback by the appearance of the mysterious lady and the peculiar feather in her hat. Intrigued and filled with curiosity, I greeted her cautiously.
"Hello, ma'am. Can I help you?" I asked, trying to hide my bewilderment.
The lady smiled warmly, revealing a row of perfectly aligned teeth. Her eyes sparkled with an enigmatic charm. "Good day to you," she replied, her voice melodic and smooth. "I couldn't help but notice the feathers that have been appearing here. They belong to me."
Confusion deepened within me as I tried to make sense of her words. "Belong to you? But how? Where are they coming from?"
She chuckled lightly, a sound that seemed to echo with ancient wisdom. "Those feathers are a part of me, you see. I am a collector of dreams, and those feathers are the remnants of the dreams I gather."
My eyes widened as I struggled to comprehend the lady's extraordinary statement. Dreams and feathers seemed like an unlikely combination. "Dreams?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," she affirmed. "Dreams have the power to transcend the boundaries of the mind, manifesting themselves in various forms. For me, they take the shape of feathers, and I gather them as a keepsake, a reminder of the fleeting beauty of dreams."
I glanced at the feather in her hat, its pristine whiteness mesmerizing. "But why are they appearing here, in my house?" I inquired.
The lady's gaze turned thoughtful, and she replied, "It seems that your dwelling holds a connection to the ethereal realm, a gateway of sorts. The feathers are drawn to it, seeking refuge and a place to rest."
A shiver ran down my spine as I absorbed her words. It was as if my home had become a bridge between the realm of dreams and reality.
"I don't understand," I admitted, my voice filled with both wonder and trepidation. "What does it mean for me?"
The lady's smile grew softer, filled with empathy. "It means that you possess a unique sensitivity to the world beyond what we perceive as real. Your presence here has awakened this connection, and the feathers are a gentle reminder of that connection."
She reached into her coat pocket and produced a small, intricately designed box. "I offer you this," she said, extending the box toward me. "Within it lies a gift, a token of the dreams that have found their way to you."
I cautiously accepted the box, feeling its weight and the faint vibrations that seemed to emanate from within. "Thank you," I murmured, my voice a mixture of gratitude and anticipation.
The lady nodded, her eyes filled with an understanding that surpassed the boundaries of ordinary encounters. "Remember, dreams hold immense power. Embrace them, for they can guide you, inspire you, and transform your reality."
With those enigmatic words, she turned and began to walk away, fading into the distance like a wisp of a dream. I stood there, holding the box tightly, my mind filled with questions and possibilities.
As the days went by, the feathers continued to appear, but now I regarded them with newfound appreciation. They were not mere oddities but fragments of something greater. And within the box, I carried a tangible reminder of the mysterious connection between dreams and the waking world.