Teacher comes in transformed, his purple and blue wings catching an especially powerful beam of sunlight glistening through the mid-morning windows. The rainbow the beam produces seems to prepare the way for him. The dragonfly flutters to the end of the rainbow on the stage and is delivered next to the stage in front of the white board.
He rolls to a standing position as Teacher. This day he is wearing a blue linen robe, the kind worn by holy men and shepherds. Around his neck, a rich purple sash flutters.
“Ooh, this is freeing!” He says, shaking his hips apparently implying the freedom of wearing a dress. “Why do women even bother wearing pants! This is great.”
He turns toward his desk and plucks a full, red rose from the crystal bowl that has just appeared.
“So, back to today’s lesson. We have a guest speaker. I am so excited. You could say I’m tickled pink!”
He skips down the steps.
“Our guest wants to encourage you guys to choose another major. She wants … well, let her explain it. Let me tell you this, though. Nothing she is suggesting would deter you from the journey you have been on. It would just be offering you a second major, but ….” He stutters in the confusion of wanting to say more when less is enough. “Oh, let me let her tell you.”
He picks an iPhone out of the air and texts a quick message before tossing it back into the invisible vortex.
“She’s on her way.”
“Um, Teacher,” Hope says. “While we wait, can you tell us a little about her?”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be a bad thing…” He paces the room, weaving around student desks as if trying to settle his brain. “So, this woman is amazing. Some of you know her from stories that have been written about her, and then some of you may have actually experienced her through conversations she has had with you.”
Hands shoot up with questions he won’t acknowledge.
“As I started to tell you last class, some of you experience non-corporeal communication, but you don’t trust it. You think that little voice in your head is just you having an argument with yourself.”
He stops walking, but his hands take the energy he was burning by moving around the room. He starts to talk with his hands like the Cuban women I grew up with. “The truth is so much more amazing. Some of you have already met today’s guest,” he turns to me and I have to stifle a gasp as he crouches down next to me. “Right, Writer?”
I try to avoid my classmates’ attention, but it’s too late. “What are you talking about, Teacher?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll accept it soon enough.”
He turns back to the rest of the class. “So those who can hear now, those who pride yourself on your empathy and your clairaudience,” he glances around the room, locking eyes with a student every now and then, but I can’t move fast enough to see who nods back. “Those of you who can hear only know a tiny bit of what we are capable of. There’s so much more coming. Seriously. Can you imagine keeping in touch with those on the other side of that veil?”
Unable to keep his mouth shut anymore, Irreverent’s hand shoots up. His question is immediate. “How can that be healthy? I mean, really, then you would seriously be stuck in one relationship for eternity. How would we be able to grow?”
Teacher nods, a sly grin on his face. “Ah, yes. The human equivalent. I guess our expectations would have to change.”
“Really?” Hope says, echoing him. “Expectations would have to change?”
Teacher shrugs, brushing a hand over a hatless head. “I guess it won’t happen yet. You’ve still got a long way to go.”
Suddenly the room is engulfed in a brilliant pink light. Teacher’s head snaps toward the origin of the glow.
“Our guest. Please, come in, Dear Lady.”
The glow originates from somewhere behind me. I turn and have to shield my eyes from the brilliant light. It coats everything it touches with something that looks like a shimmering glow.
The woman, stunning in a blue robe similar to the one Teacher is wearing, steps forward, but it’s not a step she takes. Her movements are so fluid it’s like she’s gliding, and as she floats by me, the sickly, sweet smell of red roses overcomes me.
Suddenly I know the truth. I know her. She’s the woman who’s been talking to me in the silence of the night as the crickets are waking up and the dragonflies are skating into a deep sleep. Her hair is tucked under a shawl that matches her robe, but I know it’s a shade as beautiful as the night.
Then she speaks. Her voice in this reality is as sweet as it is in my mind, but with conscious ears the sound is musical. It rolls softly, weaving around the room until it reaches that sweet spot and twists into a little riptide of sound.
“Thank you, my friend,” she approaches Teacher and touches his cheek softly with a gentle hand. Our teacher smiles like a happy ten-year-old. I get a quick hint of a panting black dog, its tail pounding the ground like a woodpecker. But the vision was just my imagination. I think.
Teacher’s friend then turns to us. “I am so happy to be here with you, my children.” The glow from her face warms the room like a ray of sun after a rainstorm. “Thank you for letting me speak.”
The silence that comes over the room at the sound of her voice seems to welcome the ocean of her words.
“Do you know how powerful you are, Dear Ones?” She answers her own question. “No, you don’t. You are so powerful. In the whisper of a thought lies the promise of a miracle.”
The Lady gathers her gown and sits on a cement garden bench that has appeared in the middle of the classroom. “My children, what you desire comes to you if your desire is strong.”
A rock drops into my gut and I know Irreverent is trying to hold his tongue. Sometimes I think I feel too much.
“I know many of you doubt my words. No matter.” Her soft eyes move around the room as if keeping up with the rolling of her voice. “There are a few of you who will be born.”
Irreverent’s hand shoots up and the rock in my gut drops, but Teacher flashes a look toward him that orders him to not embarrass him.
The Lady continues.
“There are roses here. Beautiful roses who will work together for good. For the advancement of all. Don’t be afraid. It will always be for good.” A smile tugs on her lips. “When many are united for one task, the power of the one is undeniable.”
Her gaze goes from wandering the room to warm eyes that lock with mine.
I can’t help it. I gasp.
“My dear, you’re the writer, correct?”
The strong scent of the roses makes me dizzy. If I weren’t already sitting, I’d probably faint.
“You tell the story that will teach many.” She nods. “Thank you.”
Then she locks her eyes onto Hope, “and you, my dear. Sing for me, please.”
As if she cannot control herself, Hope breaks into a sweet, joyous melody that blesses us with every note. When the song is over, she slips into her seat again, dazed yet wearing a tender smile.
“There are many others just like you,” the Lady says. Together, you will spread the knowledge with which you have been blessed. The knowledge that in your unity, the Power of the Many as One is limitless. So infinite it will be the bridge between our worlds.”
She stands and holds her arms out toward us, encompassing the entire class. Until this very moment, I hadn’t realized where the pink glow was coming from, but now I see. As she raises her arms toward us, the pink glow streams from her hands, pouring pink-tinged golden light over the room. (Or maybe it’s just over the Roses?)
A tender heat pours over my head and courses around and through me, filling me with a warmth I have never known. My heart bursts and I can’t keep the sound hidden. My moan is not the only one that echoes around the room. It is the sound of limitless love.
“My children, please share the love with as many as you can. I know it won’t be easy. It might be frowned upon sometimes because what you must do sometimes is considered … “ She searches for the words, finally looking helplessly toward teacher.
“Kooky,” he says. “Yeah, students. If you choose this different major, you may be …”
His mouth forms the word, but The Lady interrupts, “Judged unjustly.” She shoots a look at him that tells me she knew exactly what he was going to say. “But fear not. There are more with you than those lost souls who will judge you.”
She steeples her hands at her chin.
“Simply have faith. You are my roses, my Rose Matrix, and as such you have been blessed with the ability to call on the power of The Many as One.”
After she left the room a little later, those of us she considered her Rose Matrix were overcome with her energy. We can’t keep this news hidden.
We are the Lady’s Rose Matrix. … the only question now is, what the heck are we supposed to be doing with this knowledge?
Until next class, dear friends, I remain forever faithfully,
The Dragonfly’s Student