Castle Dreams

Twenty-nine King’s Chambers

Incarnadine, Lord of the Western Pale and King of the Realms Perilous, woke up with a start.

“Huh?”

He sprang to a sitting position and looked wildly around the room. It took a moment to focus.

Yes. His bedchamber, in the castle. He was home. Everything was all right. He was safe.

“Gods. What a monster of a dream.”

He threw off the covers and arose from the royal bed. Naked, he stalked across the room and went into the privy, closing the door.

Water pipes gurgled.

At length he emerged in a red woolen dressing gown. He went to a dressing table and poured himself a drink from an earthen pitcher. He sipped. Scowling, he poured the rest of the tepid water back into the pitcher.

He moved to the liquor cabinet and examined the offerings. Finally selecting a bottle of rye, he served himself a stiff drink and spritzed a tiny bit of soda into it.

He tossed the whole thing off in one go. Grimacing, he put the glass down.

He considered going back to bed, but reconsidered.

He turned on a lamp. The red leather chair next to the bookshelf looked comfortable. He eased into it, picked up the current book he was reading, a murder mystery, and lifted his slippered feet onto the footstool.

Settling back, he took a deep breath. He opened the book to the spot the bookmark marked and began reading.

After a moment he lowered the book and frowned pensively. He tried to remember the dream, but couldn’t.

He shook his head.

“I have got to stop eating those damned submarine sandwiches so late at night.”