Time Travel

Readers, this afternoon a peculiar thing happened.

Had anyone been with her (and for most of the day, no one was), Cupcake could have been observed on her hands and knees scrubbing a kitchen floor. Whose kitchen floor it was shall remain a mystery. But that is not the most mysterious thing about this occurance.

No, the mystery is that in fact though it LOOKED like Cupcake was scrubbing a kitchen floor, in fact she was not. Cupcake had jettisoned through time and space. Cupcake was in fact sitting at a table in Lisbon, Portugal, some months hence, enjoying a glass of wine and a sweeping vista.

Cupcake knows with complete certainty that the Lisbon day/table/glass of wine/vista will come. And that as she sits there watching the far-off Portuguese sea, she will jettison through time and space back to the afternoon of scrubbing a kitchen floor.

How does Cupcake know this?

She just does. It's happened before.

Years ago, in the months before she took a job in Rome, Cupcake dreamt every night that she was already in Rome. In one dream, she was at a railway station. Uncertain which track her train was at. She stopped a tiny nun to ask.

"Dov'e il treno per Firenze?" asked Cupcake, who used to speak Italian fairly well. But as the words formed she focused on the nun and realized that where she'd expected to see a wizened crone, there was in fact a petite young beauty with dazzling blue eyes.

And the nun said in a sweet, clear voice, "Il treno per Firenza parte da binario sette."

Months later, in Rome, this happened. Exactly as Cupcake had foreseen.

"But Cupcake," questions a reader. "If you knew what was going to happen, why didn't you already know the train was at track seven?"

Ah. Well you might ask. Because I'd already asked the nun before I noticed she was the same one as in the dream.

Now, Readers, please understand that the basis of the new premonition is the time-travel back to scrubbing the kitchen floor. That she is going to Lisbon seems to be a done deal.

Remember the White Stag of Adventure that Cupcake suspected was about to appear before her door?

It done showed up. Last Saturday. In the form of an intriguing text message from a rich friend in England:

"Please call me when you wake up. I have a proposition for you."

Ever a fan of propositions, Cupcake called him. And he offered a job. In fact, a share in a new business he's creating. But in order to chase this particular White Stag, she has to go to London for a month, and then spend several months in Lisbon.

So in a matter of weeks, Cupcake departs. (Fear not, my animal loving friends-- Cupcake's roommate will take good care of the doggies in her absence.)

When the White Stag appears, one follows it.

More on this soon. Cupcake is tired and must sleep. Time travel is a wearying pastime, as is scrubbing floors.