Dawn
“It’s high time I explain the full prophesy,” the Matriarch said.
—The Secrets of Vineland
Audrey’s favorite tarot-card reader had an office above a dry cleaner on the other side of Sunset from the Chateau Marmont.
There was no sign outside, and you had to know where to go.
The waiting room was plushly furnished in red, gold, and teal velvets and brocades, with gauzy fleur-de-lis curtains filtering the strong light from outside.
The saturated, dark interior colors were such a contrast to the sun-faded storefronts and freshly painted billboards doggedly vying to make themselves seen under the relentless sun outside.
I felt like I’d been utterly transported to another place and time; if I ever had to design a set for a tarot reader, I now had a perfect example.
Sitting in the deep love seat while I waited for Audrey, whose reading was first, I closed my eyes and tried to listen to the sound of a string quartet accompanied by wind and waves piping into the room from unseen speakers, but I couldn’t stop rehearsing the question Audrey and I had decided I should ask today: What has been keeping me stuck, and how do I clear it out of my way?
Because I felt stuck, in so many ways.
Stuck in love, even though a prospect was warm in my phone with a reply from Dennis saying that the Roxie was screening a whole Cary Grant series and even if we missed NBN we could see An Affair to Remember or Charade.
I felt stuck in my relationship to drinking, unable to fully commit to sobriety but also not wanting, ever, to go back to the way things were.
I felt stuck with Mom, as it seemed that both of us were keeping secrets from each other that were putting more and more distance between us, and even though I knew I needed to stand on my own two feet, I didn’t want to do that from a position of estrangement from her.
I felt stuck in my career, not sure of how to move forward for myself instead of in the service of others.
I just felt stuck, like I was in a dark tunnel, unsure of where to go. I needed something to guide me out. Would finding Winnie be my torch? Would telling the truth to my mother, and in meetings, break me free in the way that Audrey seemed to believe?
I sprang up from the couch as soon as I heard Audrey say, “Thank you so much, Remi, that was incredible as always.”
Both women turned to me. “Dawn, this is Remi,” said Audrey. “She’s been reading my cards since I was in high school, and she’s never been wrong once.” Audrey introduced me to the angular, petite older woman with preternaturally smooth, creamy cheeks and deep, dark red lipstick.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Remi smiled warmly and clasped my hands in a silent greeting.
Audrey made her way over to the love seat where I’d been ruminating. “I’m going to meditate while you two chat.”
“Lovely to see you again,” Remi said to Audrey, then turned to lead me into the next room. Once we were inside, she closed the door.
There was no music or waves in here, though there was a sound-blocking fan near the door like the one in my old therapist’s office.
This was a small room wallpapered in some kind of red fabric with gold threads making a vine pattern.
Underfoot, there were several Persian rugs of red-leaning hues artfully overlapping to cover almost all the wood floor.
The only furniture in the room was a thick, shiny wooden table—smaller than a kitchen table and bigger than a side table—with two walnut-colored leather wing chairs facing each other on either side.
On the table was a dented cigar box that had art deco designs on it.
“Does it matter where I sit?” I asked.
“Anywhere you like,” Remi replied with a hand gesture that seemed to invite me into both chairs.
I picked the one facing the door and sat down, my body humming with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Remi leaned back in her chair with her fingers laced together in her lap and said, “What would you like to know?”
“How do I get unstuck?”
“Unstuck?”
“I know now that I’m in charge of my own happiness, but I feel like something is in my way or like I’m bumbling around in the dark and I don’t know where to go next in my love life, my career, and with something going on in my family life.
I’m…looking for someone, an aunt I thought was dead.
I know you can’t tell me where she is, but… ”
“True,” Remi interjected, “but I might be able to steer you in the right direction nonetheless.” Then she opened the cigar box and said, “Please choose a deck. Whichever one speaks to you.”
There were two. One had a cluster of yellow stars on a blue background, and the other had a black snake on a red background.
My hand was magnetically drawn to the stars and recoiled from the snake, which I avoided touching as I scooped up all the blue cards. Then Remi closed the box and placed it on the floor.
“Now shuffle them as you think about getting unstuck, and about this aunt you are trying to find,” Remi instructed.
The cards felt big and sturdy in my hands, and they slid satisfyingly against each other. After a minute or two, they felt done. It was weird how done they felt, like they were a pie ready to come out of the oven.
“Now,” said Remi, “select three cards and lay them face down on the table in a row.”
I did as I was told.
“And now pick a fourth and put it above the middle card.”
Done.
“And one more. Set it below the middle card.”
Done. There were now five cards in a kind of plus sign.
“Please turn over the first three cards.”
All three cards had regal-looking people in ancient dress on them.
The first, the two of pentacles, showed a woman holding two large coins.
The second, in the center of all five cards, was the eight of swords, featuring a woman who looked like she was hiding on the ground, curled up with swords surrounding her.
The third, the prince of swords, was a young man wearing a crown and resting a hand on the hilt of a sword.
Remi leaned forward. “This one,” she said, using her index finger to point without touching toward the two of pentacles, “represents the past, and why you feel stuck. The middle,” eight of swords, “is how you feel now, in the present, and this third,” prince of swords, “is a possible future.”
Remi drew in a breath, then went on. “It is revealing to me that your present and future are both swords.
This is the suit of transformation and change, which can be painful, as the image of a sword indicates.
We might turn a sword on ourselves, blame ourselves, and even harm ourselves when we internalize things to our detriment, or when we say yes too often, as this first card indicates you might have in the past.
“This woman with the two pentacles, which are coins in other decks, seems to be juggling things well. Everything looks okay, but in light of the next card, where we see a woman surrounded by swords, I must see our lady of the pentacles as not actually okay. She’s been putting on a show, perhaps taking on too much, hiding her true self.
So that right now”—Remi pointed again at the central card with the woman curled into a ball on the ground, caged by eight swords sticking up from the ground—“she feels assailed, afraid, and uncertain, trapped and stuck, as you say.”
Tears rushed to my eyes. That was exactly how I felt.
Remi raised her index finger and said, “But!” Then she landed her finger on the table right next to the third card, the prince of swords.
“This lovely card is the future, and you drew the card that represents clear communication, clarity of mind, and influence over others. Perhaps this aunt you seek can help you achieve this.”
Clear communication, influence over others? Winnie as E. Lang seemed to have that in spades. But could she impart that to me somehow?
“Let’s get some more information,” Remi said. “Please turn over the card above the eight.”
With a slightly shaky hand, I revealed the ace of staves, a single branch growing out of a verdant hill.
“This tells us why you really asked this question,” said Remi.
“The ace of staves is a card of creativity and focus and determined productivity. This is what you want, yes? To use your creative mind for good? To feel you have purpose and are doing important work in the world? Would you like to use your creativity to get unstuck?”
I nodded, dumbfounded by the accuracy. And by the plain fact that Winnie was a tremendous wielder of creativity for good.
“Turn over the last card, please.”
Four of swords. More damn swords!
But Remi smiled. “This is a possible future, as much as the ace of staves can be your future because it is your truest desire. See how the woman in this card sleeps peacefully while the swords hover nearby? They are tamed. She has brought order to her chaos, and she is resting. She will rest and rejuvenate until she feels ready for this.” She tapped the table again next to the ace of staves—creativity and productivity.
“And this.” She tapped next to the prince of swords—clarity and influence.
I swallowed. “My aunt is a famous writer. But she writes anonymously. So much of this reading about creativity makes me feel…”
“Connected to her?”
“Yes.”
Remi thought for a moment, then pointed back to the woman trapped by the eight swords and said, “Your aunt writes anonymously, you said?”
I nodded.
“Then perhaps she, too, is caged by her own swords? The great poet Rumi said that ‘what you seek is seeking you.’ I sense a synergy between you and your aunt in this card. I suspect that both of you are seeking freedom of some sort.”
I felt blown back in my chair.
What you seek is seeking you.
I drew in a shaky breath. “Wow.”
Remi was silent while she let everything sink in before saying, “We have time for a few more cards. What would you like more information about?”
“All of it,” I replied.
She laughed. “Well, let’s try. Where would you like to start?”
“The ace of staves. The underlying reason.”