Outside was the grove of ash dedicated to Cyrridven, the crone, crooked woman. Within seconds She began talking to him, suggesting he close his eyes, take a deep breath in then release it, count numbers a little. Take another deep breath in and release it again, count again. Take a third deep breath, release it, see, feel, sense a tunnel. He could smell it, the tunnel. It was warm and safe, well lit and pleasant. Down he went into this tunnel, down, down, deeper and deeper and deeper. Down, down he went, a feeling of satisfaction within him about his task being given, a relaxed and joyous feeling taking him to a place he had not truly met of late. Down still further, a few more yards until finally he reached the furthest entrance, and there it was, the light of the Otherworld, a light so pure and perfect it endowed everything it touched with an unimaginable beauty. Here he was met by Cyrridven Herself. She took his hand and lead him to Her cauldron, an enormous and black pot full to the brim. Cyrridven stirred at its contents with Her staff, Awen by name, this cauldron, and asked him to put into it whatever he thought he needed to be transformed or let go of, whatever he needed to die. This he did without question and watched as She stirred the cauldron some more. When She had finished She put down Her staff and reached into Awen, took out what he had put in and placed it in front of him. It was transformed into exactly what he needed it to be. Mac thanked Her. Next She asked for Her gift and Mac gave this to Her freely. Now ready to return, he walked back toward the tunnel, taking with him his own gift transformed in Cyrridven cauldron, happy in his own lot and at peace within himself. Up, up and up this time, the tunnel went, Mac feeling refreshed and energised, up, up and up until he was back at the original entrance. Here he walked out on his own world again and took another much deeper breath than any he had done before, released it slowly and came back into his body and opened his eyes. 
While having Her dark side, Cyrridven, just as much a mother as crone, Her wisdom nurtured, She was very much an approachable Goddess and Mac was thankful for Her gift. Knowledge, truth and wisdom, whether mundane, magical or spiritual, he knew She would always put him to the test to earn what he seeked, not being a Goddess who handed out to the ungrateful, not one that spoon fed, but for those that are willing to truly seek She would help them uncover it. So why now, at this very moment, why had She come to offer help?
Margaret raced into his thoughts. Who was this woman, this mirror of his own wife. Why did she keep appearing in his dreams? Also Aunt Bessie. His own Aunt Bessie. She was the common factor in all of this, the connection between his dreaming and real life. She was a traveller in time in his dreams, should he tell her about that fact when she met up with him in a short while? Maybe not. She would no doubt find it all too far fetched. Still there would be no harm in testing the water. Testing the water! That made him bring out a laugh. It was raining again. Looking out the window he could barely keep his eyes open to watch.
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