Once Upon A Dream (Task #2)
"As you can see, the pseudo-facade was stripped away to reveal the minimalist Rococo design.”
Belle was tempted to pinch herself, seeing as that she now stood in a grand hallway of a strange castle -- with a talking clock and candelabra leading the way, no less. Just moments ago, she could have sworn she was fast asleep in her bed, far away from the grand manors and small villages she’d grown accustomed to in France.
Yet here she was, apparently swept up in some sort of tour through a castle that felt eerily familiar, despite the fact she’d never been here a day in her life. At least, she didn’t think she had. Surely she’d remember being guided through a castle this magnificent, wouldn’t she?
She paused mid-step to survey the steel suits of armor placed on either side of the hall, and took a moment to figure out where exactly she might be. But against her own wishes, her feet pulled her along and gave her little choice in the matter. Such was the case with dreams, she supposed; she never could control her own actions, no matter how hard she tried.
“Note the unusual inverted vaulted ceilings. This is yet another example of the late-neoclassic Baroque period. And, as I always say, if it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.”
A footstool, barking and yipping excitedly, bounced around her feet as if it were some sort of dog. Yet her body remained stagnant, as if this wasn’t cause for alarm. As the footstool continued to zig-zag across the hall, it pulled Belle’s attention toward a grand staircase just a few feet away.
While the remainder of the massive manor was illuminated by candlelight, the soft glow tapered off as the steps ascended to the next level of the castle, which in turn left the path leading further up in near total darkness.
Glancing back to ensure her companions weren’t paying her any mind, Belle found herself cautiously approaching the stairs. For some strange reason, she felt compelled to venture up the staircase, as if some unknown force was tempting her to explore what she knew was off-limits. (How she knew it was forbidden in the first place...well, that in itself was a mystery, but she knew she had to find a way up that staircase regardless.)
“Mademoiselle?”
Just as she took the first step upe, she realized Lumiere and Cogsworth lunged right in front of her, effectively blocking her path. (The fact she somehow knew the clock and candelabra were Adam’s servants was also troubling, especially considering the fact that the Cogsworth and Lumiere she knew weren’t magical talking objects.)
“What’s up there?” She found herself asking.
“Where? There? Nothing!” Cogsworth reassured. “Absolutely nothing of interest at all in the west wing. Dusty, dull, very boring.”
Cogsworth nudged Lumiere for support and had the candelabra nodding in agreement, but now there was little they could do to curb Belle’s curiosity.
“So that’s the west wing,” Belle mused. For a moment, she recalled hearing of the infamous west wing, though she knew little of what it held. “I wonder what he’s hiding up there...”
“Hiding? The master is hiding nothing,” Lumiere defensively piped up. Was he referring to Adam? Or perhaps someone else? No, surely he had to be talking about Adam, but what did Adam have to hide?
“Then it wouldn’t be forbidden,” Belle continued to speak, stepping over her companions to reach the next step. However, Cogsworth and Lumiere were quick to block her path yet again, much to her chagrin.
“Perhaps mademoiselle would like to see something else?” Cogsworth nervously suggested. “We have exquisite tapestries dating all the way back to--”
“Maybe later,” Belle said, continuing to step past them.
“The gardens!” Lumiere insisted. “Or -- or the -- the library, perhaps?”
Well, that certainly caught Belle’s attention. She momentarily pushed aside the growing urge to continue her ascent up the staircase, now far more interested in a library they may or may not have. A castle this lavish would undoubtedly have an equally expansive library, perhaps even more spectacular than the one she’d grown accustomed to at Adam’s manor back home.
As soon as Lumiere and Cogsworth detected her excitement, they began to enthusiastically jump around, trying to lead her back down the stairs and in the opposite direction they’d come.
“Scads of books!” Cogsworth proclaimed.
“Mountains of books!” Lumiere cheered.
“Forests of books!”
“Cascades!”
“Cloudbursts!”
“Swamps of books!”
“More books than you’ll ever be able to read in a lifetime! Books on every subject ever studied by every author who ever set pen to paper!”
Arm in arm, the clock and candelabra paraded their way down the hall once more. Unfortunately, they were too busy attempting to sell Belle on the idea of the library that they failed to notice her slowly creeping away. Though she wanted more than anything to follow their lead, her body had another idea in mind, and she found herself scaling the staircase to discover what exactly lay west wing.
What she found was frightening, to say the least. The darkness gave way to small bursts of candlelight that revealed broken statues of disfigured gargoyles, crumbling away and collecting dust. The further she traveled, the dimmer the light grew and the more concerning her findings became.
Mirrors were left shattered on the walls and she had to carefully maneuver around the pieces of glass scattered at her feet. Paintings dangled at crooked angles if they weren’t already discarded on the floor. What really concerned Belle, however, were the claw marks that littered the stone walls, as if a wild animal had laid waste to everything in sight.
Yet Belle found herself moving past the wreckage, only stopping once she reached a door at the end of the wing. The more reasonable part of her brain was practically screaming for her to turn back, but she couldn’t. Against her own wishes, her hands pulled back at the monstrous handles of the door and provided her with just enough room to squeeze herself inside what she could only describe as a wasteland.
Furniture lay discarded over every inch of the grand bedroom, broken into pieces or at least bearing similar markings to the walls outside. The tapestries that hung from the rafters were in tatters and blew in the breeze that drifted in from the open window, but what truly caught her attention was the massive portrait that hung on one of the walls. Though there were deep gashes running across the canvas, Belle could still make out the face.
It was Adam, and yet it wasn’t...There was something off about the portrait -- about the entire castle, really -- that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She found herself reaching out to graze her fingertips along the torn portrait as she mulled over her thoughts, attempting to piece together this bizarre dream that only seemed to get more peculiar the longer she was in it.
Suddenly, a bright, pink glow illuminated the entire bedroom, drawing her attention from both the portrait and her thoughts. A single rose was perched on a table at the very edge of the room, encompassed by a glass case that seemed to be protecting it.
With just a few blinks, Belle found herself standing right in front of the rose, but the glass casing was now gone, simply leaving the enchanted flower to float in front of her very eyes.
As she reached out to take hold of the rose, a shadow loomed overhead, and for the first time since entering the room Belle realized she wasn’t alone. In front of her stood a massive, terrifying beast, and she felt her heart rising up in her throat from sheer panic. Her lips parted in a silent scream as he moved in front of her, effectively blocking the rose from her view and causing her to stumble back.
“Why did you come here?” The beast growled, towering above her.
“I’m -- I’m sorry,” she managed to stammer, already trying to put some distance between them.
“I warned you never to come here!” The beast snarled.
What was he talking about? She’d never seen this creature until now, yet he claimed to have spoken to her before? How could she have known any of this would be hidden away in this part of the castle -- a castle she’d mysteriously found herself in, no less?
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Belle insisted. She was pleading with her body to run out of the room while she had the chance, yet she remained frozen beside one of the broken tables, watching as the beast drew closer.
“Do you realize what you could have done?!” The beast all but roared. When he pulled back his arm to strike at the table, Belle quickly fell to the ground and threw her arms up over her head, hoping to shield herself from a possible attack. “Get out!”
Suddenly, Belle awoke with a blood-curdling scream, one that left her throat raw and nearly took her breath away. She was hyperventilating by the time her father came stumbling into her room, wielding a thick, metal pipe lest there be an intruder she was trying to fight off.
“Belle, what’s wrong?” He demanded to know, swinging the pipe for good measure. “Is everything alright?”
Belle struggled to catch her breath with every gulp of air she took, still in shock from what she’d just experienced. The dream felt so real -- a little too real, if you asked her -- and the vision of the beast lunging toward her still hung heavy on her mind.
“I-I’m fine,” she finally choked out, but only once she could feel her father’s arms around her. “I’m fine, Papa, I just -- I had a bad dream.”
“One that made you scream as if someone was attacking you?” He asked. When his thumbs brushed over her cheeks, she realized she’d begun crying somewhere along the way, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. “Sounds more like a nightmare than a dream, dear.”
“There was a monster,” she quietly murmured, slumping against his chest. “A hideous beast. He -- god, I thought he was real. It felt as if he was actually going to hurt me.”
Belle’s voice was momentarily caught in her throat as her father placed a kiss against her temple, and she could only shake in his embrace.
“You’re safe now,” he reassured. “There aren’t any monsters in America, as far as I know. We left all of them behind in France, remember?”
The light joke managed to elicit a laugh out of Belle, but upon remembering bits and pieces of her dream, a deep frown settled across her face. “I...I think Adam and his servants were in the dream, actually. You’ll think I’m crazy if I try explaining myself--”
“My daughter, crazy? The thought would never cross my mind,” he scoffed. “Besides, you don’t have control over your dreams. No one can hold your dreams against you when you don’t have a choice on what you dream about.”
Well, he certainly had a point. Belle pulled away in order to bring her knees to her chest, trying to figure out how exactly she’d explain her dream to her father.
“I think Lumiere was a candelabra and Cogsworth was a clock,” she began. “At first, I would have never guessed it was them since their voices sounded so different, but a part of me just knew it was them. They were guiding me through this enormous castle -- even bigger than Adam’s estate back home, if you can believe it. I went looking where I shouldn’t have; they told me not to, I remember that much. Then I think I saw a portrait of Adam right before I saw the beast coming for me, and he was just...so angry. Furious, even. It sounds weird, I know, but even if the portrait didn’t look exactly like Adam, part of me knew it was still him.”
And now that she thought about it, she felt as if the beast may have been Adam as well. But how was that possible? Maybe her overactive imagination was beginning to get the best of her.
Judging from the concerned look on her father’s face, Belle was certain she sounded absolutely insane. However, the firm and gentle hand on her knee suggested that her father had something completely different running through his own head.
“I believe you’re still adjusting to a new life in a new country,” he sighed. “It’s to be expected that you have...” He hesitated for a moment, carefully picking his words. “Nightmares, about your time with Adam. It was a terrible situation no one should have to endure, let alone a young woman such as yourself. The mind has mysterious ways of coping and handling memories you’d rather keep buried.”
“So what you’re saying is...is that the dream was my mind’s way of coping?” She asked, admittedly a bit skeptical.
“Either that or you’ve been spending too much time thinking about your time with Adam,” her father thoughtfully explained. “Which is why you dreamed of him as a beast and his servants as inanimate objects.
“This too will pass, most likely once we finish settling in around here,” he added. “For now, the best you can do is attempt to forget about Adam -- and Gaston, while you’re at it. Between you and me, I think he’s just as rotten as that Lebeau boy, maybe even worse.”
“I’d say they’re on an even playing field,” she mused, fondly shaking her head. “They’d be perfect for each other, wouldn’t they?”
“Two egocentric, pompous fools who don’t know how to treat women?” He suggested. “Hm. Sounds like a fine fit to me.”
Again, Belle laughed, and this time the smile remained on her face. “You know, Papa, you always know exactly how to make me feel better.”
“It’s a skill I’ve crafted after twenty five years of fatherhood,” he chuckled. “Speaking of which, now is usually the time I offer you a warm cup of tea to help you get back to bed. Sounds good?”
“Sounds perfect,” she agreed. “Honey and vanilla, please?”
“As if I’d brew you anything different,” he scoffed, giving her knee one last pat before standing to his feet. “You wait right here and I’ll bring it to you.”
As she watched her father slip out of her room, pipe still in hand, Belle finally felt comfortable enough to let out the breath she’d been holding. Her father always did know how to cheer her up, but she still couldn’t help but dwell on her nightmare. There was a good chance it was, in fact, a representation of how she perceived Adam and his servants. After all, she’d certainly viewed him as a monster during her four months in his company, so it’d make sense if he’d manifested as one in her dreams.
However, something told her that there was more to this nightmare than meets the eye, even if she couldn’t put her finger on it just yet. And for now, she’d have to keep the bizarre dream between herself and her father.
