I HAVE SEEN MERLIN AGAIN.
I was asleep, curled up in a dune. At first the sea was all glitter, but then I saw a misty shape hanging over the water, and the shape grew towards me.
“Merlin!” I shouted.
He was riding Sorry, his poor old rounsey, and wearing his dark hood, and when he looked at me, his grey eyes were like shale the tide has just washed.
“What did I ask you?”
“Ask me?”
“What did I ask you?” he demanded in his deep voice. He smiled and unsmiled, and at once he began to blur again.
“Merlin!” I cried.
But he faded. In front of me, he dissolved into air.
Ask me? The truth is, Merlin asked me questions the whole time. Well, Arthur? Is that what you think? Is that what you mean, Arthur? What will your quest be?
Merlin said knowledge is dry as dead leaves unless you’re ready for it, and the only true way to understand is to keep asking the right questions.
So in a way, Merlin is here even though he’s not. He’s still helping me to help myself. Because of what he’s taught me.
Isn’t that what my dream means? Isn’t Merlin asking me to go on asking?