Page 90 of A Theory of Dreaming
“I’m sorry,” Effy said softly. “For all that I’ve put you through...”
“Don’t be sorry.” Rhia stepped farther into the room and began to unwind her scarf. “I’m just so relieved that you’re all right. And don’t scare me like that again.” She smiled, but her voice was still shaky.
“I won’t.” Effy swallowed. “I promise.”
It was easy enough to say in the moment, but she knew it would be a harder vow to keep. When the water began to beat at the walls, when ghosts rose from their graves, when cold winds came to kill the flowers in their buds. When she left the hospital and returned fully to the living, waking world.
Hard—but not impossible. Preston reached over and squeezed her hand.
Rhia gave her a resolved nod. “I’ll be here, you know. You can’t get rid of me so easily.”
“Why would I ever want to get rid of you? You’re my best friend.”
“Oh, stop it.” Rhia fanned her face dramatically. “You’re going to make me cry.”
Feeling tears began to form at the corners of her own eyes, Effy beckoned Rhia over. She sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed and set her purse on the floor. She bent over and shuffled through it for a moment before producing a folded, crumpled newspaper.
“I thought you might want to know what you missed, while you were... out,” Rhia said. “It’s beenquitea time.”
Effy picked up the newspaper and shook it open. The ink was slightly blurred, likely from being crammed into Rhia’s purse, but the stark black headline was still clear and large enough for Effy to make out.
SLEEPER MUSEUM DESTROYED IN FREAK ACCIDENT
Effy nearly dropped the newspaper in shock. “What?”
“I know,” Rhia said. “I couldn’t believe it, either.”
“Let me see that,” Preston said.
Effy passed him the paper. He had to hold it close to his face, near enough that his nose nearly brushed the page, because he was still bereft of glasses. He stared in silence for a moment, then cleared his throat and began to read aloud.
“‘On Tuesday evening, an unexpected and devastating tragedy befell Llyr’s beloved Sleeper Museum, when, without warning, the building crumbled and then sank into the waters of Lake Bala. The museum was closed at the time and no staff or security were on the premises, so no injuries or casualties have been reported. However, the museum itself has been utterly destroyed.’”
Bewilderment crackled like static in Effy’s mind. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How is that possible?”
Preston read on.
There seems to be no explanation for this sudden collapse, and when our editorial team spoke with Bastien & Lewis,the architectural firm that designed the building, they were adamant that it could not be due to any structural defects.
“The Sleeper Museum is our firm’s greatest achievement,” Benedict Crother, a spokesperson for Bastien & Lewis, stated. “We are confident that there is no design flaw that could have caused this tragic incident. The current leaseholder is responsible for the building’s upkeep.”
“The museum was examined last spring and was up to code in all areas,” said Roderick Somervell, the museum’s curator. “Nothing had fallen into disrepair.”
Our reporters also reached out to a team of naturalists at the School of Practical Studies, to investigate whether or not there could be a climatological explanation for the occurrence. They suggested that perhaps the unseemly winter weather had weakened the structure of the building or that the recent large accumulations of snow put undue pressure on the foundation. However, they were puzzled by the suddenness of the occurrence.
“If this terrible tragedy is due to environmental factors, it certainly would not have happened all at once,” said Dr. Alby Crane, the leader of the team. “There would have been significant damage—cracks in the stone—to foretell the building’s destruction. Unless, of course, there were warning signs that were missed by the museum staff.”
Somervell is insistent that there were no such warning signs. “I have been in charge of this museum for overa decade,” he stated. “It has prevailed and flourished under my care.” When asked for his guess as to how this incident occurred, Somervell replied simply, “The only explanation is either foul play or magic.”
“Magic,” Rhia echoed, rolling her eyes. “Can you believe that? These so-called adult professionals will sooner believe it was the will of the Saints than that some inspector bungled their job. What rubbish.”
Preston leaned closer to the page.
As for the accusation of foul play, Somervell refused to elaborate, stating only that “we all know Llyr’s true enemy.” This sentiment has been echoed by a number of citizens—in a flash poll, 62 percent of respondents stated that this was the result of an Argantian plot to destroy Llyr’s most celebrated and hallowed landmark.
Effy let out a disgusted breathas Preston went on.
But there is no evidence of this assertion, nor any suggestion as to how an alleged act of intentional destruction would have been committed, given that the Llyrian-Argantian border has been closed for months. It seems the only remaining explanation—which can be neither proven nor disproven—is that which Somervell himself proposed: magic.
