Writing down your dreams

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The sonorous tones of Derek Jacobi reading startled me awake with the famous Dickens line. It had been a White Elephant gift at last year’s Christmas party. I tapped the clock off and stretched in bed for a moment then rolled upright and got up. Turning lights on as I walked through my apartment. I stopped by Amber’s bed for a moment and sighed sadly. Her leash still hung by the door and the dog bed still had her fur on it and her bowl was still in the kitchen. Promising myself again I’d deal with donating her food and such later to the local shelter I went into the kitchen and started pulling out breakfast fixings.

Eggs, milk, shredded cheese, butter. Creamer for my coffee. I turned on the electric kettle and filled a glass with cold water while I waited for my water to heat. Sipping from the glass I doled out 4 tablespoons of coffee grounds into my French press. Turning my phone on I scrolled through my notifications. Sending a few texts and emails while I waited for the click as my kettle heated and turned off. Pouring the water into the french press. I started cooking my eggs, fried egg cooked thoroughly. No runny yolks thank you very much. Salt pepper and topped with a little cheese.

My phone vibrated incessantly as I started getting morning updates. “That item you were watching on Ebay is down to $10.” “You have a meeting at 9:30a with the director to discuss next steps on the Plant Pals project.” I ignored it as I finished fixing breakfast and poured my coffee. It was only 7am so I had plenty of time. Then the submarine alert sound blared and I almost dropped my coffee cup, putting it down hastily on the nearest counter and sliding to a stop. I picked up the phone and checked the screen.

“Your bid has been accepted. Payment is now due for the item “Vintage Royal Model P 1931.”

“Yes” I cheered, hopping up and down. I’d been bidding on several vintage typewriter models but kept getting outbid as true collectors with deeper pockets picked them up. I couldn’t wait to hear the unique click/clack of the keys as I wrote on my newest acquisition. I was project manager by day and writer by night, during breaks, lunches etc. While I loved my Chromebook for many reasons I was about to start writing a period piece set in the 30s about investigating the great 29’ crash. And had been looking for a vintage typewriter to type it on.

I logged in immediately and paid the seller. Two minutes later while sipping my coffee and eating eggs I got the shipped notification. “Wow, that was fast.” I thought no more about it for the moment as it was time to get ready for my day job. I was out the door in 30 minutes to the office. I spent the day negotiating realistic project deadlines with the fulfillment director of the current project I was working on. Plant Pals was an ambitious project about a subscription delivering plants to people that were small, hardy and suitable for any type of office condition.

My first indication something was strange was when I got home that night. Bill the security guard waved to me as usual. “Miss Ashley, you have a package that arrived.” Strange I thought, the only thing I’d ordered recently was the typewriter and that surely couldn’t have arrived yet. Bill walked out though with a package that looked just right in size for the typewriter.

“Here you go Miss Ashley, this one isn’t too light you want me to carry it on up for you?”

“Nah, it will be fine I’ve been working out lately Bill.” I gave him a smile as I accepted it and headed to the elevator. While I waited for the car to arrive on my floor I looked the box over. It had some odd looking ankh symbols on it with the eye of Horus as well. I frowned, I’d never seen that type of box before. The symbols seemed drawn on the box as if hand drawn with black Sharpie.

Strange I thought… I’ve not seen a company that uses that type of packaging before. And for it to come in one day. Must have been a local seller. But when I turned the box to see the return label it just stated “Shipping Dept Po Box 123, local, AZ 30120” which wasn’t even a valid zipcode or address. Shrugging and happy with my new toy I looked up as the elevator dinged arriving on my 14th floor. Setting the box down I unlocked my apartment and then hauled the box in looking around for Amber out of habit. Tears welled up when I saw her empty bed and the leash hanging in the entryway. I’d had to say goodbye to her only a week ago and it still hurt every time I came home and she wasn’t there dancing around to greet me.

Exhaling hard I put the box on my coffee table and grabbed a tissue. Breathing deeply I willed the tears away. I didn’t need to cry more; it wasn't going to help me feel any better to be stuffy and miserable with swollen eyes. Plus I had dinner with Diana and Rachel later. If I came to dinner clearly having cried recently there would be more questions than I wanted to deal with.

Wiping my eyes I refocused on the box and grabbed one of my cloud box cutters (thank you Amazon) to open the box. Carefully slitting the packing tape I opened the box flaps to either side. On top there was the invoice and a long note from the seller oddly covering the bottom half of the invoice page. I put that to one side without reading it, sure that there was just a plea to give five star feedback once the item was received.

The typewriter itself was in a carrying case. I pushed aside foam peanuts to reveal the gleaming black case. Gently I lifted it out, Bill wasn’t kidding, these old typewriters had heft, I’d put it at around 14 pounds or more with the case. Placing it on the table I flipped the latch and opened the case. Then yelped in surprise, the entire inside of the case appeared covered with odd looking scribbles that at a quick glance looked like spiders. I closed my eyes and laughed at myself. “Way to go Ashley. Freaking out over some doodles.” Shaking my head I lifted the typewriter out and set it on the table. For something manufactured in the 1930’s it was in remarkably pristine condition.

The body of the typewriter was a gleaming black, the keys stood out boldly pristine white backgrounds and crisp black letters. The ribbon had been threaded already and it was just waiting for a page of paper to be inserted to start typing. I picked up the invoice and threaded it into the roller then typed a few experimental letters. Oof these keys were hard to move. I may need to hunt and peck with my index fingers. These keys had a lot of resistance.

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog, I typed with some effort. Letters stood out crisp and clear on the page. I nodded in approval and patted it affectionately.

“You and I are going to be friends, I can tell. Strange packaging aside and weird doodles.” I picked it up and moved it into my office space. Which was really just a corner of the loft with a decorative screen in front of the L shaped desk to give me the illusion of compartmentalization. The only closed room was the bedroom in my loft so I could hear anything in the place wherever I was in the apartment. I made a note mentally to find out if the listing had talked about the doodles. I knew it was As is but strange the typewriter should be so pristine yet the case be so odd.

I headed out for dinner still thinking about all the fun I was going to have writing on my new toy. Dinner was pleasant. I needed a calm evening with friends to forget about the stress of the day and relax. I wandered back around 10pm thinking about if I should start writing tonight or wait until I’d finished my rough outline I’d been working up in Google Docs first. When I opened the door, my silent apartment greeted me as usual.

Kicking my shoes off and switching to slippers I poured a glass of cold water from the fridge and wandered to my desk to work on the outline for a bit. I needed to buy some more paper, if I was going to actually be working in hardcopy using the typewriter for my story I’d need paper to type on. Which reminded me that when I turned to the typewriter what had that seller’s note said? I wondered if they might have explained about the doodles. I pulled the paper out and turned it over to read the note.

Dear Buyer,

I am so pleased you have purchased this lovely vintage 1930’s Royal P typewriter. I hope you will find as much enjoyment as I did in using this for writing. If you can’t tell this is a special typewriter in many ways. It holds much history and is gifted in bringing forth the most eloquent of stories. With your hands on the keys you will find that writing things into existence is one of the easiest things in the world. I do have to warn you though, as with many such devices. It has a mind of its own and can be prone to misbehavior if not properly attended to. You may have noticed the many markings on the inside of the carrying case. I strongly and respectfully recommend you place the device back in its case and latch the case anytime it is not in use. To do so is one of the best ways to prevent any… shall we say mischief? Once again thank you and happy writing.

P.S. When you are done with this device please note you will need to sell it on. Do not donate or gift it. If you do so it has a strange habit of turning up again in your possession until such time as you properly transfer ownership to another via a sale.

I sat there blinking at the note for several minutes. That was the weirdest thing I’d ever read. I frowned at the typewriter “What mischief could you possibly cause?” I asked it as if it were a living being. If this was some type of tactic to get 5 stars in feedback it was the oddest one I’d ever heard of. Creeping your buyer out by implying they had bought a what… Haunted, magical, typewriter had to rank up there with some of the strangest things ever.

I shook my head and put the note to one side to reread in the morning when I was fresh. For now though I looked at the typewriter again thoughtfully. Then went to the table and picked up the case and brought it over. I carefully placed the typewriter in the case and latched the lid. I’d gone from ecstatic with my new toy to creeped out in general by having such a strange thing in my home. I wished briefly that Amber were still here. Dogs had such a good sense of the other and could warn you of bad vibes before they turned into a major danger.

Turning to my laptop I tried to focus on working out more of my outline but my brain was stuck ruminating on the strange note from the seller. I kept picking up the paper and reading it again. Until the heater turned on and a gust of warm air from the vent over my desk blew it to the floor. Picking it up I realized the entire page was typed on now. Where I had typed simply the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. Now the entire page was full of writing. I stared at the paper for a long moment. I turned it over and read the seller’s note. Turned it back and stared at the repeating sentence.

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The sonorous tones of Derek Jacobi reading startled me awake with the famous Dickens line. I startled awake and tapped the alarm off. Then stretched in the bed and luxuriated in the quiet for a moment. Amber hopped on the bed and flopped over me dramatically after smushing her face against mine in doggy joy.

Stunned, I stared at the paper in disbelief. I knew I had only typed one sentence, nothing else. Okay that’s enough for tonight I think.” I said out loud and taking the paper I opened the case and laid the paper over top of the typewriter then closed and latched it. Feeling silly but also massively weirded out I went over to my gym corner and picked up a 20 lb dumbbell and put it on top of the case.

Time for bed I decided and I went and fixed myself a cup of tea and put on some classical Beethoven to relax. Picking up my latest and favorite sleepy time book “Astro Physics for Busy People” I started reading page 25. About an hour passed pleasantly and I sleepily turned my lamp off and placed my book on the nightstand to resume tomorrow.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The sonorous tones of Derek Jacobi reading startled me awake with the famous Dickens line. I startled awake and tapped the alarm off. Then stretched in the bed and luxuriated in the quiet for a moment. Amber hopped on the bed and flopped over me dramatically after smushing her face against mine in doggy joy.

“Hello baby. How’s my beautiful Golden friend today?” I talked to her affectionately, rubbing ears and belly alternately.