Episode Eight: MacGregor Chronicles

The dinning room table seated twelve when needed, but without its two leaves, it was down to seating for six. Two chairs on either side and an arm chair on the ends. The other six chairs sat tastefully along the outer walls in the same room. This room had hard wood floors like the kitchen, but like the fire side area, there was a large rug under the table and chairs.

To this point I was unsure that I would be able to handle the rest of the house. If I was this thrilled with just the kitchen and dinning room, I almost believed that I would begin to hyperventilate should I go on. I decided to take the risk. I continued, crossed the foyer, opening doors as I went. On either side of the main entry door was a closet. The first contained light jackets, sandals, and umbrellas. The second held winter coats, boots, hats, gloves, scarves, and event ski pants. Next was a small hallway with a door on each side and one at the end. I went counter clockwise this time, the left hand door lead to a two port garage. There was a work bench with tools, two vehicles, and two bicycles. It was the first neat and clean garage I had ever seen, but then we had just moved in. I closed this door and moved on. The laundry room was next.

I actually clapped my hands to see a yellow room and an orange washer and dryer set in side. The cup boards above the duo stored what looked like a years supply of laundry soap, dish washer soap, bar soap, and shampoo, all from the same company. There were also two sets of sheets for each of the beds in the house, and a multitude of towels of various sizes. Everything was labeled and orderly. Still one more storage spot was found under the sink that was first in the line of laundry units. Below the sink were two five gallon buckets, two gallons of vinegar, and a stack of kitchen towels.

At first this seemed strange, but as I thought about it memories that did not seem to be my own, yet they were came to my mind. Conversations, ideas, and experiences came flowing into my mind. I was slowly beginning to comprehend where I was, how I had come to this place, the things I had experienced between being a sixteen year old girl telling my sister a story and being a thirty two year old woman married and living in her dream house. It began slowly with finishing high school, going to college, and meeting Willard. Each memory was so clear, every experience so fresh, it was all coming together. I was not yet sure why five gallon buckets and gallons of vinegar would bring these things to me, but none the less, I could recollect my life.

I closed the cupboard door and moved on. A powder room was behind the next door. Just a toilet and a sink, with a green and yellow color pallet. Not much to see there. The only room left to explore on the main floor was the family room. I walked around the corner from the powder room and looked into the family room. The floor was a crimson plush carpet, soft and rich. Facing the fire place there was a huge, overstuffed, sectional, khaki sofa. Above the fireplace was a fifty-two inch flat screen television, with the remote on the mantel.

In the far left corner contained a tea table and a couple of chairs, all prettily decorated a few family pictures.

On the other side of the room, at the far end was the black mini grand that I had played. Sun light streamed in from the five tall windows that lined the south wall, filling the room. The house faced full west, so in the morning the back yard was blasted with light, then cool and shaded in the after noon and evening.

I sat down at the piano to see what would come of it. When I touched the keys music came rushing into my head, I sang as I played. Strangely the music that I played and the lyrics were from a choir concert in high school. This must have been one of the first things I had learned to play. I smiled to myself as I got up from the seat. I studied the pictures on the walls, of Will and myself. It looked as if I had gained a lot of weight at one point, but had apparently lost all of it again. I still had my chubby cheeks. I took one last look around the family room then turned to go out the way I had gone in. There was a door there, an unexplored door.

The last door remained unexplored for a very short amount of time. After grabbing a soda from the refrigerator I opened the door and made my way down to the basement. The area directly below the foyer appeared to be a game room. Not for board games, but for video games. There was a sofa, a few game chairs, another sizable television, and a cabinet with glass doors containing three game consoles, games, control pads, remote controls, and other devices for each of them.

Clockwise seemed the logical approach to the basement now, therefore I took a left at the bottom of the stairs. French doors opened into an exercise room. In it was a bow flex, some yoga equipment, a treadmill, and an elliptical unit. Along one wall were mirrors and a ballet rail. There was a small table with an iHome on it for us to listen to music, if we so desired. All of this was quite impressive. So this was how I would keep off all the weight I had lost.

I exited the exercise room to find a bar on the other side. Though I did not find any liquor, I did find every juice imaginable, a juicer, fruit, vegetables, protein powder, a blender, and a couple of bottles of wine. In this same area, like the kitchen above, there was more than just the juice bar. Over to the right was a poker table and in the middle of it all was a professional sized pool table, a thing of beauty to my husband I was sure. I stared for a few moments at the billiard table, more memories flowed into my mind. Will enjoyed pool and video games yes, but he had always wanted a good home theater.

The home theater was what I discovered on th other side of the next door, below the family room. At the far end of the room was the screen for the projection television, stadium seating with guide lights, and perfectly placed speakers all around. There was a closet off to the side where the dvd's and player were stored, as well as a control center for the stereo system that ran through the whole house. There were hundreds of movies, television series, educational videos, and what have you. Now this was his pride and joy.

The exploration was over, the entire house had been searched. Nothing was left, except maybe the yard. The yard would have to wait though. I had to sit down and soak some more of this in.

I went to my study and grabbed my journal. I read it from the beginning then made an entry for the day. I explained my situation, my confusion and my resolve. The things that I read were fascinating, and added more details to the life I was in now. When I looked for old journals I found a box on the top shelf in the closet that contained my diaries dating back to 2005, I was now living in 2012, according to the calendar on my desk. I proceeded to read from the beginning of the set. It was boring at times, but completely absorbing in others. The first diary even had things from as early as 1999, though the entries were intermittent, it brought me up to January 2006. In 2006 I had filled five journals complete, and the next year began slow again. I realized why when I read that this was the point a which I began writing my first book and when I had regained more consistent contact with the friends and family whom I had left behind when Will and I moved from Minnesota to Wisconsin.

Episode Five: MacGregor Chronicles

My darling husband, the fine specimen of a man that he was, sat on a bar stool eating oat meal and drinking coffee from a large mug.

“Good morning.” was his greeting. “Did you sleep well? You seemed a little out of it last night when you went to bed last night.”

“Sure I'm fine. Just a little shell shocked at finally living in our house.” I responded bracing myself a bit in hopes that this was the correct response. It seemed to work, he accepted the answer with no further inquiries and moved on to a new subject.

“You're in jeans and a tee shirt, I thought you had a meeting with your editor today?” he asked.

“My editor?” I responded, this caught me off guard. I had an editor? For what?

“Yes, Molly. Your new book? Are you sure your okay? Maybe you should reschedule. Give yourself the rest of the weekend to adjust to the house and living in New London.” Willard suggested some concern.

“Maybe you're right. With the book, the move, vacation, and all. I almost need another vacation. I think I need some time to wrap my brain around my new surroundings, New London and all, you know?” I tried to sound as focused as I could, in spite of my present state of distractedness.

Just then the phone rang. Will answered, then handed the phone to me. He mouthed, “It's Molly.”

“Hello?” I said in a nervous tone that I tried very hard to cover up.

“Jane would it be okay with you if we postponed our meeting this afternoon until say Tuesday morning. Something came up and I have to push all my meetings back a day or so.”

“That would be great, I kind of need the weekend to reboot my brain anyway. What time on Tuesday?” I inquired.

“Would eleven be okay?”

“Eleven sounds perfect. Where?”

“Wow you really are out of it, we already agreed to try that Millie's place in your new town. It's a coffee shop kind of place. But I think they have sandwiches and stuff too.” Molly explained.

“Yeah, sorry. So Tuesday at eleven at Millie's.”

“See you then. Bye.”

“Yeah, bye.” I turned off the phone and set it down on the counter. Will stood up and approached me with body language that indicated that he wanted to hug me. An attractive man, whom I was married to and he wanted to hug me, seemed natural enough. The embrace was so comfortable, as though I belonged there. I planted my head on his chest and closed my eyes to really soak it in. He smelled great too.

“I love you.” He whispered, then kissed my forehead. I heard,

“I love you too.” escape my lips automatically.

“You're pretty neat.” He went on. I giggled, this seemed silly, but then I could swear that I had heard him say this before, like it was an on-going joke between us. I felt his arms loosen, then we let go completely. He took his bowl to the sink to rinse it and drank the last of his coffee. I sat on the bar stool next to his then looked around the room. This area was like three rooms in on. There was of course the kitchen itself, but then there was a breakfast nook, and a small lounging area that was centered around a large fire place. When I looked more closely I saw that the fire place was two sided. I hadn't noticed this the night before. I could see the family room through the fire place on this side. This general area was decorated in neutral colors, black, cream, tan, with a bit of red here and there for an accent. The refrigerator and the dish washer doors blended in with the cupboard doors, and the wall unit ovens were stainless steel. The counter tops looked like granite, as did the top of the top of the large island where I was siting. The island also housed six gas powered burners, a small sink, and an elevated section that worked well for the four bar stools.

The breakfast nook was made up of an “L” shaped bench around two portions of the table, and three chairs placed at the other open spots. Seating for six comfortably, seven if necessary. The fire side area consisted of a medium sized over stuffed sofa, in a dark khaki, of which the back was turned to the kitchen. An occasional table behind that, a black chair on either side, facing one another, and a smallish glass toped coffee table in the middle. The entire area had hard wood floors, except for a great area rug was under the fire side furniture. The mantel piece held a variety of pictures of Willard and myself, as well as some of our other friends and family, all of whom attended the “Welcome Home,” party. There was a large portrait of Will and me above the smaller pictures, it seemed recent and we looked attractive and happy.

“Weird isn't it?” Will said suddenly.”I remember us planning all of this, buying all of these things, and now it has all come together and it feels so surreal. Like a dream.” I looked at him wide eyed, he knew. It was all an illusion, this was his dream too. Yet then I figured, if this is all a dream, and we're in it together, then why not just go with it until I wake up? It seemed harmless enough. There were things that I would have to figure out and catch up on, but that wouldn't be hard, all I had to do was be myself, do whatever felt natural.

“Yeah, a dream. Even when you can touch things you still expect to wake up at any moment.” I cried.

“I have been going through the house checking things out to see how it all came together, and it is great. The house, the furniture, the decorations, everything is so us. And it's ours, all of it. Feels good doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does. I'm glad to hear you say all of that, I was afraid you might think that I have gone crazy if you caught me snooping around the house, looking at things and such.” I was so relieved.

“No, I've been doing the same thing. Probably more with the electronics and such then perhaps the china, but all the same, it's new and different to me too.” My heart leaped in my chest at the sound of the word china. We had china? Where?

“Well, I have to go get started on this new project for a client. This one will take at least nine or ten months, but it's my first audio book project.” he said. Apparently I looked confused, because then he said, “the latest Barry Eisler book? Remember?” I faked a smile and nodded blankly,

“Yeah, sure.”

“You really do need a break. Take it easy hon. I love you.” he said as he kissed my forehead again, then made his way up the stairs to his studio.

“I love you too.” I answered. From there I made and eat a couple of poached eggs, toast. To this I also added a banana, pineapple juice, and a vanilla yogurt. I found all that I needed easily, like I had set it all up myself. I cleaned up after myself, then proceeded to search my house. The kitchen alone was wonderful, the dishes, the glass ware, the silverware, and the cook ware. I had a huge pantry full of food, the refrigerator was full too. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the dinning room table, I smelled them. When I turned around I saw the china hutch, and the china in it. White bone china bordered in a cream with platinum designs in that. Service dishes, seven piece place settings, including tea cup and saucer, for twelve. There were chargers, place mats, table cloths, runners, cloth napkins, napkin rings, linens for all occasions. I was stunned, these were my things. All I could do was thank God. It might only be a dream, but all good things come from God, and this was a good dream.

Episode Four: MacGregor Chronicles

This is the point at which I woke from the dream, but the story went on. The next morning, Sunday, I woke in a strange bed and the man who was my husband was gone. I recognized the room as the master suit of the hour from the gathering the night before. The room was as beautiful now as it had been twelve hours earlier. The walls were a cream color with a shiny, gold pattern on it. The wood of the furniture was a polished cherry. I was looking at each piece from the our post bed which had dark red, velvet curtains around it, tied back with gold ropes at each post. A canopy made of the same, rich curtain, fabric was above my head. There were tall windows on either side of the bed, as if the bed or the windows had been made to fit together. Low night stands sat below the windows, each with a lamp and an iHome, though I did not know what they were at the time. There were four doors in the room, I could not remember which would take me out into the rest of the house, so I tried them all. The first was to my left, the opposite side of the room from the side of the bed where I had awakened. This lead to a large office with recording equipment, a mixing board, microphone, carpeted walls, and a large desk with three different computers on it. The decor was Gothic and dark. Swards on display mounts and other masculine looking things were well places and set out. This was not what I was looking for.

Now there was one door across from each of the two windows. I went for the one on the left first, figuring I would make my was around the room clockwise. Wrong again, it was a closet, an empty closet. I skipped the next door and went straight for the last one thinking that if that was the closet then the next one would be the master suit bathroom. This was the room that I walked into, another door on either side of me, a sink beyond each of them a window above the sink on the right and a door next to the sink on the left,then a shower, with a large whirlpool tub in the right far corner. At this point I evaluated that the door that I had skipped was the door out, that was enough for me, so I decided to explore. This was my home after all, I wasn't snooping, I was admiring the fact that I was finally living in my dream home. The small door to my right, in the bathroom was a linen closet, the first door to the left was a toilet, the second was a gigantic walk-in-closet. There was even a small nook to the left with a mirror and a dressing table. A switch turned on the lighting for my little spot and I sat down on the soft silk seat. This was the first time I had to really look at myself, as an adult. I looked about the same, perhaps a bit more mature, which is to be expected. My hair was short in the back and long in the front and I still had chubby cheeks, though I was still only a size 8, according to my wardrobe hanging all about me. My clothes were wonderful, very grown up, and everything looked perfect on me, from cut to color.

“My house, my things,” I thought. I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, showered, and got ready for my day. Dark blue, straight leg jeans, a three quarter length sleeve, leaf green shirt, and brown loafers were my choice today. I felt great and looked great too. It seemed like I had everything I could ever need or want. Being right on believing that the door that I had not checked was the way out, I opened the last door and stepped out into the rest of my home.

I was at the top of a landing that looked down to the foyer below. I had the choice to go down stairs or check out the other rooms on the second floor. I chose to investigate, though I could smell coffee coming from below the stair. I practically tip towed down the open hall to the first room, facing the front of the house. It was a bedroom with a walk-in-closet. There was a full sized bed , with two matching dressers, a book case full of books, and round tables as night stands. This room was decorated in yellow and oranges. The bed cover was the patch work quilt that my aunt had made for me not six years ago, though now it was twenty-five or so years old.

I found it quite interesting, but quickly moved on to the adjacent door with the same clockwise idea that had driven me before. Another bed room, a mirror image to the first. The only difference was that this room held a queen size bed, reds and blues seemed to be the primary color pallet for this room. On the be was the denim quilt that my mother had made for me the year before, though again, now it was more than twenty years old. I closed the door, then moved on to another door. The third room was looked to be a more feminine study area. Decorated in browns, pinks,and creams, I thought it looked rather Neapolitan, but I liked it very much. A chocolate colored writing desk sat between two tall windows. Opposite the desk on the same wall as the door was a chocolate brown leather chase with a small stack of books resting on the floor near by. There was another door by the chase that belonged to a closet, not a walk in, but large enough to accommodate four six foot book cases full of study material. There were books, audio books, computer software, text books, work books, notebooks, and music books. I looked through them all and realized that if this was my study, then these were the things that I had been studying for the last fifteen to twenty years. Many subjects were covered in this small closet, music, arts, language, civics, history, economics, and everything I had found myself talking to guests about at the party the previous evening. I searched my desk to find dip pens and parchment, inkwells and blotters, wax seals and embossers. There was a lap top computer and an iPod, and another iHome there as well. Also in the room was a book case containing all of the classic books that I had apparently read over the years. I was learning that I was a very intelligent woman, very accomplished by Jane Austin standards. I could not believe myself. Would I, could I become this mental giant? Would I live in this house? Be married to this fine looking man? What did I do with all of this knowledge? Did I work? Who or what paid for this house? How long had I been married?
It seemed that for all of the questions that I had answered about where I had gained all of this knowledge, now I had gained more questions about who I was, where I had been, and how I had come to this place. I didn't even know what state we were living in, let alone what town or city. Many things were coming naturally to me, like speaking Latin and playing piano, but if I could drive a vehicle, would I know were to go, how to get to different places. I feared to ask my husband, he might think that I had lost my mind, not knowing where we lived or how long we had been married. To play it safe I decided it best to go on the instincts that had shown me how to play piano, do everything blindly and with as little forethought as possible.
I saw that the fourth door was open, the two sinks on the left hand side of it lead me to understand that this was a bathroom. Making my way down the stair, I followed my nose to the coffee maker in the kitchen. My darling husband, the fine specimen of a man that he was, sat on a bar stool eating oat meal and drinking coffee from a large mug.

Episode 1.5: MacGregor Chronicles

When I was young, my sister, Kassandra, and I used to spend summer nights in our basement telling one another stories. These narratives would begin as dreams that we had had and from there we would use our imaginations to tell hours of fantastic tales. This was our bonding time as sisters. We made up the unused work bench like a bunk bed and when we were tired we would go to sleep. In some of these stories she and I would grow up to run a choreography studio together, or a pizza parlor. We shared a the mutual enjoyment of a popular boy band, so they were often involved as well. But one of my dream turned tale was different. It seemed to take on true life of it's own. For many years I had forgotten about it, dismissed it's realistic form, but it has come back to me. It is becoming my life. I remember it's details so vividly and see all of it's characters quite clearly. It is as though I am in it already, and I have only to write the future as I am writing these words. My reverie began like this.

It was early September in Minnesota. My college sweetheart turned husband, Willard MacGregor and I were just arriving back from a European Cruise. We drove up to my dream house and it was as if we were coming home to it for the first time. I was terribly excited and a bit confused. There was a banner stating, ”Welcome Home MacGregor's.” The house was beautiful and huge. There were dozens of cars in the drive way and I seemed to recognize all of them, or most anyway. It was no surprise, but it was a party. When we approached the main threshold, Willard swept me off of my feet into his arms and kissed me. The door opened and he stepped in, the foyer was two stories and vast in comparison to any entry I had seen to that point in my young life. In the vision I looked still fairly young, but it was understood that I was almost thirty three years old. When my darling set me back on my feet again, I looked around at the house and at the people whom were there to greet me. I new them, but I didn't. It was as if I had known them in a past life, but had not met them yet also. I tried to count them but lost track after sixty.

MacGregor Chronicles Preface

I have always been a writer and a story teller, but since I have been out of high school I have had no one to tell my stories to, so I have been content to write them down. Now I have a way to share with people and get input. I understand that my writing is now the best but it is my own and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
This blog is just to let my readers know that everything that comes out of this is purely from my imagination. Some of it is from life experience with my husband, some is silliness, some of it is complete crap. There may be segments that may seem repetitive but there are some alterations, major or minor. Some of the major alterations will have to do with the number of children Will and Jane have, the gender and ages of the children, and the place all of these scenes take place. All of it will involve the house with Will and Jane living in it.
In some segments there is a place called the refuge, which you may read about, but it will at some point be omitted from the main part of the story. I have rehashed a great deal of this through time, thought, and revelation.
Now then, welcome to the neurotic delusions of my future life, or the rough drafts thereof. Sorry for the boring intro, I hope it gets better. Thank you for your readership.