Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition.
― Rumi
Sylvia Lightbourne
As I suspected, my afternoon invitation from Sylvia Lightbourne involved more than mere socializing over a restorative cup of tea.
By choosing me as a trusted confidant concerning her daughter, Sylvia obviously harboured a deeper motive.
If she intended to flatter me or recruit me as an ally for some ulterior purpose, I had no idea, but my antennae were up and I found myself transitioning to hyper vigilance mode.
Why was it everyone in West Harbour except me was privy to some dark secret?
I might have left the Lightbourne's feeling wary and watchful, but what happened next filled me with wonder and frankly, left me bewildered.
Sylvia showed me a photo of her comatose daughter.
I expected her daughter to be beautiful as Sylvia, but I did not expect to be looking at an image of the girl in my dreams―the girl I can never seem to meet.
It was shocking to see her face but it was also very unnerving. I was reluctant to tell Sylvia― she'd probably think me mad.
I decided to keep the truth buried and simply remark on Clare's beauty and how much she resembled her mother.
"If you're trying to flatter me, Marcus, it won't work," Sylvia laughed. "Besides, Clare may resemble me but she's really a clone of one of Clay's relatives, now deceased."
"Well, I appreciate your humility, Sylvia, but she does resemble you―it would be plain to anyone who saw you both together that she's your daughter."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you for saying that, Marcus. It's my fondest wish Clare recover and you have the opportunity to see us both together."
I could see Sylvia becoming sad again and I strove to cheer her up.
"According to my doctors, head traumas are mysterious. They say sometimes patients spontaneously awaken and have complete control of their faculties. I hope this is the case with Clare."
"That's so kind of you to say. When I visit her later this afternoon, Marcus, I'll tell her what you said. She's about your age and I'll tease her by saying a handsome gentleman caller wishes our sleeping princess would awaken."
I patted Sylvia's hand and smiled encouragingly, "We must always hope and not lose heart."
I left the Lightbourne's that afternoon feeling grieved for Clay and Sylvia. I had no idea about the burden they were secretly bearing.
But I was also mystified by the photo of Clare.
They say everyone has a look-alike, or double, but the resemblance between Clare and the girl in my dreams was uncanny.
I was right to say Clare resembled her mother, but there was more than a resemblance between Clare and my dream girl―she didn't just look like the ghost who appeared at the foot of my bed, but was an exact clone or doppelgänger.
Call me superstitious, but they say seeing such a paranormal phenomenon is a harbinger of bad luck.
But even if that's true, I say, bring it on―I'd like nothing more than to be haunted by such a beautiful wraith