A vision, a memory, a dream within a dream.

Have you seen how the witches gatherer around the ancient dish, backs hunched as they feast together on the body of a mermaid?

A captivating image, but even so the scene does not feel real. Are you seeing ghosts and memories?  Here in the shadow of mausoleums, in the hazy recollection of days when this place had wealth and prospects.

The witches are so raggedy, their clothes dirt stained, their faces tired and you think they might be eating a mermaid out of need, not malice.

You know, in the way that you know things in dreams, that the dish was not meant to carry the meat of mermaids. There is magic in it, and it is not the magic of desperation. You feel that you should know what purpose that dish serves. You feel you should ask, but you are silent, like a useless grail-questing knight who does not know how to speak at the critical moment. You wait, having sensed the dish itself will speak to you. When at last it does, the sound of it is a whisper of silk over silver.

The dish tells you that the witches and the mermaids are the same. They eat each other. Don’t take them too literally. It’s just a dream.

( A collaboration between Nimue and Dr Abbey)