Gate: Fortune’s Wheel

I stepped through the vision gate and found myself at the center of a tornado.  It spun me in circles and I flew up high into the air, completely within the power of one who could control the mighty winds of creation.  Then I blinked and I found myself sitting at a breakfast table in a modest home somewhere in the country of my birth.  There was a half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of me and a spoon was in my hand, halfway to my mouth, as if I was in the very midst of eating.

A spirit in the shape of a woman stood at a sink to my left, washing dishes in a basin of soapy water.  She wore a dress that was faded with wear and worry crossed her forehead with lines as she gazed out the window above the kitchen sink. Outside of the house, an ominous storm was brewing and the wind began to pick up and blow against the walls.

“Mother?” I heard myself say in a child-like voice. “I’m scared. Will Father be home soon?”

“I hope so, but don’t be afraid, Heidi. We have a safe place to weather out this storm. Come with me,” said the Mother, quickly drying her hands on a dish towel that hung from the sink.  “A tornado is coming, I can feel it in my bones.  We have to get to the storm cellar.”

The Mother took my hand to help me rise from the table and began to lead me through the house.  Together, we went down a set of stairs into a basement with unfinished walls.  Within this root cellar, a door on the far wall led deeper into the earth.  She opened the hidden door and gestured for me to go through.

I moved to the doorway of this underground space and saw, spread out before me, not another underground room as I expected but the night sky filled with stars.  “Go on in, sweetheart,” encouraged the Mother, anxiously looking towards the outer steps from which we could hear the sounds of the tornadic storm approaching. “They’re expecting you.”

“But Mother,” I said. “There is eternity within that room. Is it safe?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Heidi,” the goddess said and gave me a push through the doorway into the night sky.  I found myself falling and spinning in circles through the nothingness.  Then, everything was dark in my sight for a terrifying moment of time.

Suddenly, I saw two calloused and scarred hands working and shaping a ball of dough. The hands pulled dough from the pile, shaped it into a smaller ball, and then rolled this smaller ball in sugar.  This happened again and again and I found the movements to be quite hypnotic.  “You’re welcome to help anytime,” a voice said and I looked up into the smiling face of a very large spirit in the shape of a man with a chef’s hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” I said. “Help with what?”

“In my kitchen, you will call me ‘Chef’. The master of this castle feasts tonight, wandering spirit,” said the cook.  “I need every pair of hands I can get so it’s a blessing you’ve found your way to my kitchen.  Shape this dough and roll it in sugar.  Then, I’ll fry it.  It will be an excellent sweet plate between courses.”

“I would be honored to bake beside you, Chef,” I said. “I’ve created treats such as these before. Please call me, Heidi.” Then I began the process of rolling the dough and dipping it in the sugar. The chef ran off to help someone else in another corner of the kitchen while I continued working with the dough and gazing about at my new surroundings.

Everywhere I looked I discovered servants in a flurry of motion. They were chopping vegetables, baking bread, and draping platters with grape vines and profusions of leaves.  A young boy stood near a fireplace, turning a huge pig on a spit.  The smell of the roasting pork wafted out of the fireplace and filled the room, causing my mouth to water. I worked quickly on my appointed task and soon had a large pile of sugar-coated dough for the Chef.

In a far corner of the room, conspicuous in his stillness, I beheld a spirit in the shape of an elderly man in a black cloak that partly concealed his features with a long gray beard that hung down his chest.  The mysterious figure’s head nodded as if with exhaustion and I realized he was napping in the midst of the kitchen chaos.

“Who’s that?” I asked the Chef when he ran past me again on his way to another part of the kitchen. “Here’s your sugared dough also.”

“He’s our resident beggar,” said the Chef in a harried tone. “Our lord allows him scraps from his bounteous table. I wish he’d take some food and be on his way.”

“Let me find something for him to eat, Chef, while you continue preparing the lord’s feast,” I said and moved towards the cloaked figure.  As I passed dishes on my way, I pulled bits of food from this plate and that, and soon I had two large handfuls of fruit, meat, and sweets.  I wrapped it all in a clean cloth and came close to the dark-cloaked spirit.  “Here, friend,” I said and pressed it into his hands. “I hope this fills your belly and brings you peace.”

“My thanks, Heidi,” said the cloaked spirit. “I did not expect to find you here with the kitchen help.”  The beggar threw back his hood and I found myself face to face with the god Odin.  He first appeared to my sight as the young smiling man I encountered hanging upside down from a tree long ago, but then his shape flickered and Odin appeared to be bent with old age and missing an eye.  As I gazed at the god, he changed back and forth again until finally settling upon one of his ancient forms.

“I am seeking the nature of this place, Great One,” I said. “What are you doing here?  Surely, not begging for food. What need has a god for physical sustenance?”

“Yet you and I shared a meal, once upon a time,” said Odin who winked and motioned for me to come closer. “Ask the cook who the master of this house is,” he whispered in my ear.

“Chef,” I called across the busy kitchen. “Who do we prepare the feast for this day?”

The cook rubbed his arm across his sweaty forehead, leaving a trail of flour behind. “The lord of wine and celebration, Heidi,” he said.  “The dancer, the dreamer, the drinker, Lord Dionysus and his various other titles of lofty import and meaning.”

I turned back to Odin. “What do you want from Dionysus?” I asked. “You already drink with the best of them, don’t you?”

Odin waved his hand and he and I were covered in darkness. “This god hoards a particular treasure that I desire very much. Right this way, Heidi, and I’ll show you what I mean,” Odin said. “If you walk in my shadow, they won’t even know you’re gone.”

Quickly and silently, Odin and I left the kitchen with its furiously working staff and he led me down a series of winding stone hallways, a confusing maze of rooms and dead ends that I would have been easily lost in if I had been on my own.  At one point, we were walking down a hallway that had windows to the outside and I peered out of one, curious about the world beyond the castle walls.

The sacred seat of Dionysus sat in the midst of a sea of vineyards.  A golden sun in a perfectly blue sky shone down upon fields and hills of green and purple grapes, spreading out from the castle in a massive outpouring of growth and abundance. My breath caught in my throat at the sight. “Lord Dionysus is wealthy, indeed,” I said, my eyes filled with the verdant hills of the god’s home. “Look at all those grapes.”

“Come on, Heidi, don’t dawdle,” said Odin, impatiently grabbing my hand and pulling me from the window. “My cloak will not trick his servants forever or the god for even a moment. He’s notoriously temperamental so we better hurry.”