"In this new dream, I dreamt I was walking in a place I had never been before, with high walls all around made of stone, grey and bleak as the stones of the village where I was born, back across on the other side of the ocean. On the ground there were loose grey pebbles, and out of the gravel there were peonies growing. They came up with just the buds on them, small and hard like unripe apples, and then they opened, and there were huge dark-red flowers with glossy petals, like satin; and then they burst in the wind and fell to the ground.
"Except for being red, they wer elike the peonies in the front garden on the first day I came to Mr. Kinnear's, when Nancy was cutting the last of them; and I was her in the dream, just as she was then, in her pale dress with the pink rosebuds and the triple-flounced skirt, and her straw bonnet that hid her face. She was carrying a flat basket, to put hte flowers in; and then she turned , and put her hand up to her throat as if startled.
"Then I was back in the stone yard, walking, with the toes of my shoes going in and out under the hem of my skirt, which was blue and white stripes. I knew I'd never had a skirt like that before, and at the sight of it I felt a great heaviness and desolation. But the peonies were still coming up from the stones; and I knew they shouldn't be there. I reached out my hand to touch one and it hada dry feel, and I knew it was made of cloth.
"Then up ahead I saw Nancy, on her knees, with her hair fallen over and the blood running down into her eyes. Around her neck was a white cotton kerchief printed with blue flowers, love-in-a-mist, and it was mine. She was holding out her hands to me for mercy; in ehr ears were the little gold earrings I used to envy. I wanted to run to her and help her, but I could not and my feet kep walking at the same steady pace, as though they were not my own feet at all. When I was almost up to Nancy, to where she was kneeling, she smiled. Only the mouth, her eyes wer hidden by th blood and hair, and then she came apart into patches of colour, she scattered, a drift of red and white cloth petals across the stones." (Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace 374-5)
I'm reading Alias Grace for one of my courses right now. It is a thoroughly engrossing book. It's based on an actually murder trial that occurred in Kingston, Ontario in 1843. In Alias Grace, Atwood explores the story of Grace Marks, who was convicted of murder at the age of 16 and sentenced to life in prison. If you don't know anything about the Kinnear-Montgomery trials then you should really look up some stuff about them because it is utterly fascinating. It was never known for certain if Grace Marks was actually a murderess, and it is debated whether she was actually insane or not. Atwood's novel is and incredible exploration of Grace and although it doesn't come down one way or the other on the issues of Grace's guilt and sanity, it draws readers into a complex web of events and people and is truly a compelling read. The passage above is the last thing I read today and the imagery stuck with me because it is so vivid and unusual and disturbing. This is Grace's account (as Atwood has imagined it) of a dream she had the night before the murders took place. That last image of Nancy dissolving into white petals that float amongst the blood-red peonies...it's chilling. It made me think of this photo though. I'm not sure whether this is actually a peony; it is in the peony gardens at Fort Edmonton, but it looks more like a giant poppy to me. Either way I love the intensity of the colour. I also like that it is kind of in the early stages of dying. It just makes it so much more interesting and gives it a different kind of beauty.
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