Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Broad daylight woke Patricia: the weather had shifted again, she thought.

Something was strange about that thought, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, and she stretched lucuriously. She felt fully awake for the first time in days - the sense of having finally had a good long sleep. Much better than the alertness she found by reaching the bottom of a thick pot of black tea, she decided.

Patricia had rolled out of bed, wrapped herself in her dressing gown, hummed two verses of "If you're happy and you know it" (with accompanying applause), and put the kettle on before she realised she remembered every detail of the previous night's dream.

Thinking of PJ's advice, Patricia hurried through the necessary steps for making her breakfast. With the speed of long practice, she popped two slices of bread in the toaster and prepared herself a cup of Lady Grey tea. She didn't feel the need to fortify herself with a whole pot, but a nice hot cuppa was a warm comfort in the morning, an indulgence she was not inclined to relinquish even after a proper night's rest. The bread popped from the toaster transformed into deliciously browned toast, and she took the time to butter it, stealing a crunchy bite of the warm nutty toast before heading to the table.

Patricia set herself up at the dining table with her breakfast on her left and a notepad on her right. Cuppa tea in one hand and pen in the other, Patricia began writing the details of her dream.



I expected it to start with the rabbit, but it started with Alfred. It felt like a memory, but it was certainly from before I met him. He was younger than he was when I met him, but still with his soft blonde hair that I always want to stroke and that look of intense concentration with the slight furrow to his brow. In my dream it was just the way he was, and I had no emotional connection, but now, thinking about it, I feel ... everything that I've lost with him. It would be easy now to forget the rest of the dream and just think how he looked in that initial moment.

Alfred was writing on a scrap of paper, but I felt like I was the paper, or somehow related to the paper, or maybe I was what he was writing. And it seems... Alfred is getting older, and I see in him now, increasingly, the Alfred I knew and grew with. The writing - who is somehow me in this dream? - feels the same as it did from the beginning. I can tell Alfred is writing me with more nuance - or rather, he isn't writing me, but he is writing the person whose memory this is. I'm not here. Just the words. No. The story. It stays the same, at the heart, and Alfred is writing it continuously as he ages, or so it seems... I think there were a few jumps when Alfred became suddenly older, as if perhaps the memory is missing a piece of Alfred's life? It's hard to remember now. It's me noticing that, not the person I somehow was in the dream.


There's a surprising warmth throughout. It's like the love I have for Alfred, but different, alien, and less... broad. I love all of Alfred, but this ... feels like a love for what he's doing, for his writing... now, thinking about it, I know that this must be what the rabbit feels for Alfred... and I feel both excluded, separate, and also a shared grief.


At the end of this beginning to the dream, Alfred looks at me, sees me, knows me, but I don't know if it's me or if it's the me who is the story.

The rest of the dream I think is at least similar to what I've been dreaming in the nights before last night, but I feel like this section with Alfred is new. Perhaps, if it is the rabbit who is sending me these dreams - and I believe it is, as I'll explain shortly - then it is a sort of goodbye that he wanted to share with me after I told him that Alfred had passed on.

I think the rabbit's name is Alfalfa. That part of the dream, the next part, is all a bit confusing - there were swirls of light everywhere and I caught little glimpses of things I didn't understand but which somehow linked to the part before, with Alfred's writing, and in the swirls there were characters, some of whom seemed familiar from my reading Alfred's work, but it was clear there too that this rabbit, this Alfalfa felt just as much parental influence and love for these characters as I knew Alfred did. Somehow this swirl was like the rabbit's version of the images I had just had of Alfred. I believe very strongly that this Alfalfa was a muse for Alfred. Perhaps there is more to the plot bunny idea than just an incidental one-off idea that the human needs to write or weave into a tale or use somehow... at least, it seems very clear that Alfalfa had a strong creative relationship with Alfred. And while the previous scene, with Alfred writing, had been very low in emotional content, in this scene I could feel it all coming through - not exactly for Alfred, but for the works Alfalfa and Alfred had worked together.

There is something important in that that I need to parse out. But not yet - that is for reflection after I get the rest of this down.

I believe Alfalfa was very carefully directing my subconscious, for it wasn't until I had ... accepted? absorbed? ... the essence of that scene before he focused in on a single swirl. This one had none of the familiarity, the Alfred-ness, that the other ones did, although I hadn't realised that it was there until it disappeared.

But it had another familiarity, because the light was swirling around May. There were two others as well - and it was at this point that I realised that each of the light swirls I had seen before also contained three people - a boy and a girl I don't know. Thinking about it now I am reminded of the conversation May and I had last night, about how Alfred was always writing about love triangles... If Alfalfa was his plot bunny muse for stories with love triangles, that would explain all these circles... but why this one with May?

Now of course I am thinking of Alex and Chrissie. But in the dream I didn't... In the dream all I could feel was the fear pouring out of Alfalfa. Something had gone very wrong, and this situation with May was at the heart of it, and that was all he could tell me about that, but it wasn't just the May thing that was wrong, there was something more, tightly linked to the rabbit and his sense of self. And home, but I don't know what he meant with that even now. Another thing to think about.

Then there was a sense again of Alfred, a flash of his face and of a feeling of warmth and safety, and the note - the paper that had been pinned to the cage - I got the feeling that somehow that was related to the relationship that Alfred had had with Alfalfa. The punny note had made me think of Alfred, and this message from the rabbit only made it clearer to me that it had been meant for him. Maybe Alfred would have known just from that that this was his muse. I remember he always managed to fit puns into his writing.

But that was just a flash and I didn't have time to think about it then - it was replaced with a mental image of me, and a stronger sense of loss and abandonment and loneliness. I think... Perhaps, this is pure conjecture, but I think I made it worse with my writing, because I keep rejecting the love triangle plotline. I believe Alfalfa is a plot bunny, and I believe he is linked to the idea of love triangles, and I have been refusing to write one.

And what about May? Her life obviously isn't one of Alfred's tales, but somehow it is mixed up with Alfalfa's plot, or how would she be in his repertoire to show me?

I don't know. I'll have to think more about that.

There was just one more image from Alfalfa, and I don't know how to make head or tails of it. It was of a lot of bunnies, in a picturesque setting - some kind of great hall? - rows and rows of bunnies. It had the same ... flavour or sense or something ... as the earlier reference to home had felt, and the same sense of loss. Was this home for Alfalfa?

At the head of the arrayed rabbits, perhaps talking to them, but this was a still image, was one who was grey with tufts of white fur poking in all directions. I thought for some reason of a grizzled old sergeant harassing the troops. Now I wonder if this is what Jamie put in his novel...

But in the image, behind the sergeant-like bunny, resonating with menace, another grey bunny. Seemingly just one of a group of similar rabbits - all grey - unlike any other rabbits in the picture, actually - I could tell that Alfalfa was terrified of this rabbit.

Then there was a sense of gratitude and patience, and I proceeded to dream of Alfred. I haven't had such vivid memories of him in a long time, but this is no place to discuss them.

I have more than enough to think about with all of this... I will have to sit down and talk it all out aloud with Alfalfa.



By the time Patricia finished writing, she had finished her tea, but what was left of her toast was cold, and she wrinkled her nose at it. Somehow it just did not appeal. She threw the bread into her organics bin for composting, and made herself a fresh full pot of tea instead - chai-flavoured honeybush this time. She didn't need more caffeine, but she did want a strong, buoyant flavour, to match her mood: she felt well-rested, yes, but also liberated, somehow, from having finally been able to remember the dream that she had felt was so important.

Now she just had to figure out what it meant. Patricia stood up and stretched her arms full above her head - things were moving forward, she felt.

Patricia took her tea to the table by her rocking chair, which she turned to face the rabbit cage. She wasn't about to force herself to stand for the conversation she was about to have when her chair was right there. Thankfully it was a light piece of furnity; she doubted she would have been able to manage, say, Alfred's arm chair.

After convincing herself that the chair wouldn't hit anything if she rocked it in its new position, she moved the blanket from the near side of the cage. Oh dear, she thought, I seem to have woken him up again. Or maybe all he does is sleep?

"Good morning, Alfalfa. It's nice to meet you. Again, sort of, I suppose," Patricia told the sleepy-eyed rabbit with a smile, and unlatched the top of the cage. "I'm just going to pour myself a tea and then we'll have a little chat, alright?"

She took her time readying her tea and resettling the tea cozy on her pot, and nudging the table to its station by the arm of the rocking chair in its new position, and finally, settling herself down into her seat.

"There," Patricia said, picking up her tea cup and looking at the now more alert rabbit, up on his haunches in his usual position when she was talking to him. "Now I'm ready. Are you ready? Oh, we've come to it already. Somehow I doubt we can wait a full day for each two-way communication, so we're going to see if a cliche will work for us. Is there something you can do to signal your understanding to me? In the movies it's always blinking."

The rabbit - Alfalfa, she reminded herself - dropped to all fours, then rose again.

"Hm. That could do," Patricia said. "But it might get a bit tiring. Can you twitch your ears or something?"

In answer, both of Alfalfa's ears turned completely, as if listening to something to his left, her right, then returned to face her.

"Does that work for you? Turn both your ears to your left for yes, to the right for no, or one way and then the other for maybe." Alfalfa's ears were turning to his left before she finished, and stayed until she stopped.

Patricia nodded. "Okay, so we can communicate at a basic level now." Yes, the rabbit signalled.

"Well then, first things first," Patricia smiled. "Welcome to my home! I know I've been closing the cage, but it's more out of habit than anything else. You are welcome to roam around as you please, just don't break or shred anything outside of your cage, please. If I leave the top unlatched, can you get in and out?" Yes, twitched Alfalfa's ears. "Great. Is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?" Alfalfa paused for a moment before twitching his ears to his right. No. But hesitant -

"You don't seem sure. Is there something about food or drink that isn't working out well?" No hesitation this time: yes. "There is. Is there somethng wrong with the water?" No. "With the food pellets?" Hesitant no. "Maybe there's nothing wrong with them, but they aren't what you need?" Yes. Ah.

"Okay..." Patricia thought for a moment. "You're a plot bunny, right?" Yes. "Does what you need relate to that?" Yes. "You need me or someone near you to write a story about a love triangle, don't you?" A long hesitation this time before Alfalfa signalled yes. Hm. Hesitation because he didn't expect Patricia to know his narrative perhaps?

"Alright, Alfalfa. I see two possibilities. Either I write a story for you - with you? - or I take you to the write-in tomorrow night and introduce you to Chance." But by the time she had reached "write-in" Alfalfa was signalling no, keeping her ears turned until she finished. "No. I take it the write-in is a bad idea." Very definite yes. "Then I will write something this afternoon." Alfalfa signalled a maybe. "Do you think I shoudln't try?" No... "Just not convinced it will work?" Yes. "Okay, I"ll try, and if it doesn't work, we can think some more.

"Next," Patricia paused. "Actually, I'm going to be smart about this. Just a moment please, Alfalfa," Patricia excused herself courteously, and went to get her pad of paper. She wrote down Alfalfa needing someone to write a love triangle story.

"Okay, next: You don't want to go to the write-in. Is it important for me to figure out why?" Again Alfalfa hesitated before signalling yes. "Does it have something to do with the plot bunnies?" No hesitation now: Alfalfa signalled a quick yes. "Are they trying to disrupt the writing somehow?" The pause was back, but the answer still affirmative. "Yes, but that isn't why you shouldn't go to the write-in?" Yes. "If I ask you, are you willing to tell me more about the disruption?" Alfalfa paused, then signalled a maybe. "But right now it isn't relevant, and you would prefer not to. Okay." Patricia wrote down that Alfalfa knew more about the plot bunnies' activities, but that she hadn't pressed him. What else?

"Are you hiding here, Alfalfa?" Long pause. Maybe, he signalled finally. "Hm. My guess is that you came here seeking help from Alfred, whom you worked with previously as... his plot bunny. Some kind of muse. Is that right?" Yes. "But you're only sort of or maybe hiding. Did you want to come here?" Another long hesitant maybe. "Let me try that again. How about this: when you had to go somewhere, this is where you chose to go." Yes, Alfalfa signalled definitively. "Do you know why you had to choose somewhere?" Alfalfa started with a no, but after a half-beat turned it into a maybe. "That seems like it might be complicated. Will it help me to know?" Maybe. "I'll write it down, but leave it for now," Patricia said, and did so.

"Okay, from that... Is there anything that you know of that I can do to help you with whatever made you seek out Alfred?" No, Alfalfa signalled. "Alright. If you think of anything, get my attention, then move up and down three times, like you initially suggested using as a signal, and I'll assume you have something related to tell me. I'll do my best to figure it out. Or, if it's less urgent, you can tell me in a dream, alright?" Yes. Patricia wrote down the signal and its newly assigned meaning.

"Right," Patricia said. "It seems like you might not want to discuss what the plot bunnies are doing to disrupt NaNoWriMo, or the write-ins here at least. Is that correct?" Alfalfa signalled yes, but before Patricia could move on, added in a maybe. "Interesting. But I think you would prefer me not to pressure you about it?" Yes. "I have no intention of interrogating a guest, so I will try to avoid asking you too much on the issue, and if you would prefer not to answer, just signal maybe twice. Okay?" Yes.

"I'll limit myself to one question specifically about the issue. Are the plot bunnies actively trying to disrupt NaNoWriMo everywhere, not just here in Vancouver?" Yes. "Well... alright. Thank you, Alfalfa."

Patricia paused to think for a moment.

"The other possible related issue that I would like to ask you about is what is going on with my granddaughter. Is what is happening with NaNoWriMo in general related to what is happening with May?" No, signalled Alfalfa. "Do you know anything about what happened to her?" This time Alfalfa's delay in answering seemed reluctant rather than hesitant. Yes, he signalled finally. "You do, but you don't want to talk about it?" A reluctant maybe this time.

"Okay... Just one question, then. Is what is happening to her dangerous?" Alfalfa paused, and signalled his thinking by dropping to all fours. Finally he rose up on his haunches again and signalled maybe.

"Maybe. You don't know?"

Yes, signalled Alfalfa.

"Well," Patricia sighed. "Thank you for the information you have been able to give me, Alfalfa." She wrote down the answers to the rest of the questions she had asked.

"I just have one more thing to say, Alfalfa, and then you can get back your nap," Patricia looked straight into the brown bunny's liquid eyes. "Thank you for coming here, for patiently trying to get through to me, and most of all, for the imagery and memories you shared with me of Alfred. It means a lot to me," she said softly.

Yes, the bunny signalled, and dropped to his feet, adopting a pose that looked almost like he was crouching.

Patricia breathed out a long exhale. "Well," she said. "There's no time like the present, right? I'll go try to write a love triangle story, and we can check in again after. Thank you for the lovely chat, Mr. Alfalfa."





Patricia had done her stretches, set her timer to alert her when it was time to do the next set, and ensconced herself in her computer chair, when she heard a thump behind her. She turned, but it was just Alfalfa getting out of his cage. She supposed that it was about time that he got more of a stretch himself, and started to turn back to the computer - but the brown bunny hopped straight to her and raised himself up on his haunches, looking at her.

"Can I help you, Alfalfa?" she asked, somewhat surprised. Yes, he signalled. What could he possibly want? She stared at him, unsure what to ask. He dropped onto all fours and hopped closer to her, raising up again and touching her leg with one of his front paws. Yes, he signalled again.

"Would you like to come up?" Patricia supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Didn't pets like to snuggle? Although she wasn't sure she should think of a plot bunny as a pet... Yes, Alfalfa had signalled. She shrugged internally, picked up the soft bunny, and set him in her lap, where he turned around like a cat and settled down as if for a nap.

Patricia smiled at him, then turned her swivel chair back to face the computer and opened a blank word processor document.