Solstices. Crisalis .

the women began to leave the cave one by one. They would light a small fire on the hill above and share the food and goodies they had brought. That way, they would share their sorrows and console each other.

      Charlotte stayed behind. Suddenly she was all alone in the dark cave. Total darkness and absolute silence surrounded her. From a small passage that led down into the deeper parts of the cave there was a cool draught. She felt fear rising in her and reaching for her heart, sensed how the endless darkness of the earth reached out for her and panic rose within her. She forced herself to breathe deeply.

      'Calm, calm. Feel the earth under you. Feel the stability. Call the goddess.'

      Suddenly Charlotte felt that there was another presence in the cave. Once again panic spread through her veins. She felt hands grabbing her. Something touched her cheek. Images of naked backs beaten bloody, of mass graves – grey in grey, everything that passed before her mind’s eye, only the rhythmic stamping leather boots were shining black. Then that face again. Sarah. Large, sad – no, empty – eyes. Resignation. Denial. Sarah. How did she know that this woman who kept turning up in her dreams was called Sarah? Cold shivers were running down her spine. She tried to grab Sarah and embrace her protectively, but she couldn’t reach her. Sarah only stared mutely, imploring and out of reach.

      Charlotte suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in her abdomen. Then she understood. Sarah, this woman, was part of herself, a part that suffered terrible pain and profound sorrow. Was this woman a symbol for the suppressed pain in herself, or was she a former incarnation? Today was Samhain and that meant the line between the worlds was at its thinnest. It was possible that on this day energies from other times and other worlds could get through to her.

      All of a sudden Charlotte heard the women singing as if from far away. One voice stood out clearly and the full sound allowed her to come back to reality. She managed to tear herself out of her frightened immobility. 'Please Goddess, help', she murmured. She repeated it once more, this time strong and clear, 'Goddess help me'. Now the cave seemed to receive her petition. She felt power, trust and a welcoming. In a low but clear voice she recited the mantra of the goddess:

      Goddess, Mother of all being,

      You, who are in everything that is.

      Let me feel your power.

      Let me recognise that I am part of nature, connected with all beings,

      Nurture me with your gifts,

      Purify, fortify and heal me.

      Fill my heart with love, light and joy.

      Take away my fear

      And release me from envy and destruction.

      May your almighty presence and power

      Shine in me, through me and around me

      In eternity.

      Amen

      While reciting the mantra of the goddess, she heard a whisper at her ear,

      'Write, write down the story of Sarah'.

      The whisper came only once, almost inaudible, but those words fell softly into her heart. She felt relieved. Of course, that was what she should do. She took a candle and an incense stick out of her bag. After lighting both she placed them before the holy stone of the goddess at the northern wall of the cave. Then she addressed all four cardinal points and thanked the four elements. Slowly she left the cave. On the hilltop she melted into the group of women unnoticed and shed her fox identity. Now she was able to celebrate, eat, laugh and talk. Later tonight she would begin to write. She would write down Sarah’s story. The first dream was clear in her mind. She would write it down tonight and let it be the start of the story.

      Whenever Charlotte found time and space in the following weeks, she wrote about Sarah. Some of her dreams were very clear before her inner eyes: the cruel games Hans and his friends played with the people at their disposal; the scene in the cellar. Charlotte did not always understand every part of the dreams. She wrote down what she remembered. Sometimes the line between dream and narration dissolved. There were times when she could no longer say whether she was remembering a dream, or whether something inside her had begun to write, if the Sarah in her had started to document her story. Charlotte was relieved to find the dreams stopped coming once she started to write down the story. She was able to sleep through the nights, and to regain strength. On the whole she became calmer and more relaxed and once again found the courage and energy to heal.

      Twice she went to see Christiane. It was astonishing to watch the changes in Christiane. Charlotte was aware that it was not her who healed. She could only trigger something that was hidden in people, something that was blocked. Sometimes she could push a little, give the first shove and a person suddenly managed to get going and to start healing.

      That is what happened with Thomas. Thomas was a former colleague she used to meet for an occasional beer in the pub after work. One day she was told that he was in hospital following a kidney transplant. The transplant had been successful but he had been subjected to so many immunosuppressive injections that he had developed lymphatic cancer. She had already visited him once or twice and talked to him on the phone and was therefore well aware of the bad prognosis. She had spoken to him about laying on hands and meridian massage now and again, but he had always seemed sceptical. He didn’t give the impression of wanting to be treated and he had never actually asked her about it.

      When she visited him in hospital she felt an indefinable fear of being helpless and unable to do anything, not even to talk to him about it. If she was quite honest with herself she was expecting to say her final goodbye. She went up to his floor, asked for his room number and noticed how reluctantly she walked towards his door. Thomas was alone in the room. He was tired and resigned, but happy to see her. The room smelled of medicine and hospital. Thomas was pale and his skin seemed to be bloated and greasy. Outside the sun was shining on the freshly fallen snow.

      'Let’s go outside.' Thomas suggested.

      'Of course, if that’s possible.' Charlotte was relieved because the atmosphere in the room was oppressive.

      'Who should forbid me to leave the room?' Thomas asked sharply and Charlotte shrank back guiltily. They walked silently through the wintry grounds. Thomas bitterly complained that they had given him medication that they knew could cause cancer, but had told him that he had to take it anyway. That now he actually had cancer and couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was a guinea pig for the physicians. One male nurse had told him that the privately insured patients were given different medication. Charlotte kept silent. She felt his bitterness, but also his resignation and his fear.

      They turned automatically into the park. Sun and snow had turned it into a fairyland. The snow crunched under their feet. A robin sang its winter song. A blackbird sat in a bush near the pond and sang its beautiful and sad song. All of a sudden, Charlotte could no longer accept that life was both immensely beautiful and at the same time cruel, painful and fear-inspiring. They watched a frozen leaf sailing to the ground, its edges covered in glimmering icicles.

      'One of the nurses told me that last year a patient who had terminal illness got well by watching the leaves falling outside his window. All he did was watch the leaves falling.' Thomas halted pensively. 'Perhaps, if I just stand here and marvel at these icicles, don’t do anything else…' His voice was getting quieter and quieter. 'Do you think that’s possible?'

      'Yes, I think that’s always possible,' agreed Charlotte and a tingling sensation went through her body. They were silent for some time, then Charlotte pushed herself to say, 'Thomas, I would like to treat you. I don’t know if it will make a difference, but it can’t do any damage. '

      Now Thomas nodded. He didn’t say anything but he did nod.

      'Let’s go to my flat. I had planned to ask you to accompany me there anyway. It isn’t far.'

      When they reached the flat Thomas turned up the heating, made tea and watered his plants. After drinking their tea, Charlotte asked Thomas to lie down. She sat down by the bed and put her hands on his feet. Almost at once there was a strong current that seemed to suck