My best friend Silky leads me into a beautiful cathedral. This church is the only one that's tried to reconcile the Two Religions--it's been performing mixed-faith weddings and coronation ceremonies for a century and a half, since the year 330 or so by our calendar. Everywhere else, the two faiths, Y-Forkism and Crown-Ringism, are considered utterly incompatible. The Two Cults have fought since their founding.

Patricia McKillip wrote a famous novel on their long feud; she called it "the root of our modern psychological schism." Her book used this cathedral as the answer, the icon of unity.

I loved that book, but now, walking in that very church, not in spirit but in the flesh... my soul breathes deep. This cathedral, like medieval ones, is a sanctuary, but it feels precious in a way no Christian one ever did: a refuge from religious bigotry itself.

And we're going to get married here. At last!

Silky and I walk in... She's a human girl, not a black mare today. Oh, didn't I mention Silky's a shapeshifter? But she's being nice for my relatives today.

In the far left upper corner of church hang half a dozen paintings. To my shock, I know the artist. Me! "Woman With Plans", "This Isn't Seeing Him", "Mare Crisium", "Snowbank with Vesta", "Silky on Fur", "Who Knows Who's Your Mate?" Full of color and sex and life... and horses.

But they're by a steam vent and they've faded, discolored, and bled. Just shadows of my original intent!

Yet... maybe the steam did them some good, too. It makes them look like centuries-old art treasures. Authoritative! And I did loan them to the church long ago, maybe even centuries--time here is not the same as waking time. I may be centuries old too! Of course there's no reason to grieve over the deterioration: this is really a movie, so the set designer just had copies of my pictures painted to look ancient--the originals haven't aged in the waking world. I'm flattered he found them worthy of his cathedral of reconciliation; it's a beautiful space!

What? Someone congratulates us on "your coronation" not "your wedding." A robed priest ritually hands me a ringlike crown. I put it on Silky, and she tips it off... she doesn't want to rule! But neither do I. Too fractious a country, too tedious a responsibility. We wrestle over it, giggling, enjoying touch... I can't tell how serious she is about not wanting it. I'm not really sure about my OWN actions--how serious is MY refusal to wear it?

She tries to find another person who'll wear it. "No!" shout the people. "It must be you." But which one? I slowly gather my courage and say reluctantly "All right, then. I'm willing..." just as Silky starts to say "No, I'll do it then, I know it scares you."

We get married at last with the crown on her head. I'm happy, though a little disappointed with myself for lacking the courage to wear it. But at least one of us has it. My wife. Silky, the magical shapeshifter, sweet crazy spirit. My wife.

I'm one happy coward.

NOTES

• My pictures honored: yesterday, my housemate Liz complained she was tired of seeing only my art on the walls (though she proposed no replacements of her own), and just to placate her, I said "I'm tired of them too." A lie! I LIKE my dream art--but I disowned them! The pictures are real enough. Woman With Plans was a figure study that turned into something more, a study of the link between sexiness and brains; "This Isn't Seeing Him" illustrated the dream Centaur Quartet, but was lost in a move; this is just a digital sketch; "Mare Crisium", retitled Mermare, survives, as did "Snowbank with Vesta", the figure study "Silky on Fur", and "Who Knows Who's Your Mate?". Only "This Isn't Seeing Him" was true dream-art--and it's the only one lost.
• Wedding = on TV today, I saw a nerdy boy go on a date with a popular girl. Turns out he KNEW she said yes as a joke and plans to make fun of him, but he figured it's his only chance to make her see past her biases about his nerd surface. And, slowly... she did.
• Two cults = the Y-fork is probably a stylization of Pan-horns or the antlers of the Green Man, mixed with the image of a Y chromosome! A cult of maleness, wildness. The Crown-ring is both a vaginal circle and a symbol of spiritual balance--the rays on the crown were all equal-sized: femininity and calm. So...
• This church not only takes my art seriously, it's out to make gender peace!
• Patricia McKillip's novel = only in my dreams! It IS her sort of situation and metaphor, but this particular plot is all mine. Or Silky's...

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