My Vision

WEAVING WOMAN:-

I supposed it was a dream at first, I supposed it wasn’t real, didn’t mean anything just a whimsy of mind.  But I begin to place it where it belongs, where she belongs.

I entered a large dark room with a high vaulted ceiling I saw a figure bent over her works by the window.  She hummed to herself.  As I approached I saw the frame of the window and threads all hanging down.

If there’s one you can wind it

And some were wound round, coiled, twisted.

If there’s two you can twine it

Many were twined some loose, some tight, and some were twined with others.

If there’s three you can thrine it

These I knew she meant pleats and again I picked out with my eyes the pleated threads, some she’d threaded tiny beads of clips into and again some joined different ones as she went.

If there’s four you get fan-kl-ed

And indeed I had noticed knots and twists all mixed up in the weave.

But she continued on even though it really was quite a mess.  I thought it really was an absurd thing for an old woman to be doing, late in her life, late in the year and late at night. And she spoke:

“No, it’s you who is late”

Then sang the four-line song again

If there’s one you can wind it

If there’s two you can twine it

If there’s three you can thrine it

If there’s four you get fan-kl-ed

“Are you watching?”

“It’s really not the proper way to weave,” I whispered.

“Look not with those eyes” and she handed me the end of one pleat.  It felt like static electricity.

So I didn’t look as she said, and felt the pleat it was me, my memories, twisting through me, through the threads, unconsciously I began pleating it. Left over middle, right over middle…………then stopped.

“Hang on a minute, I know this, you, I’ve heard about this, that, that’s well, everyone.”  I said pointing to the threads all white glittering in the moonlight, I saw then the threads were not hung from the window frame as I’d thought but went on out the window all the way to the moon.

“Isn’t there supposed to be three of you, weavers of … … …(I didn’t quite know what but finally settled for) fate?”

“There is, but see, you are a child of the moon… Autumn Leaf”

And she went back to singing her song

If there’s one you can wind it

“Um, may I ask, which thread is yours?”

She laughed very softly and warm “Why all of these ar my threads little one”

I understood that weaving everyone from the moon was her life to do so.

“Can I help?”  (So innocent so young)

If there’s two you can twine it

“Yes child” I reached out to the weave “but not here, not like that, you can help, not me, but yourself by always being true – pleat your life in truth  - always pleat

If there’s three you can thrine it

And remember me” and on went her little song…

If there’s four you get fan-kl-ed

I walked away somehow satisfied out into the night, the light of the moon and ME.

This was my vision

Love  pwh

She had named me #autumn leaf# and I have a thrined soul to the moon whatever that means???

So for a while every Autumn I put pleats in my hair and would have a fluffy crimped looking doo at new year when I took the pleats out.  Eventually I forgot the point and bought electric crimpers.  Now I remember sorry old woman Moonweaver I will remember now.

I have guessed (the three fates???) the other two are Sunweaver and Earthweaver maybe!!!

I think this was when I was 13yrs.