The Birth of Venus

From the case book of George Marvel d’Musgrave

 Something extraordinary and embarrassing happened to me this morning: The last time I slept with a woman was a long time ago. Imagine the surprise when I woke up this morning and discovered that I was not alone in bed. Beside me I discovered the beautiful face of a young women on my pillow. Her eyes were closed, her lips slighted parted and her breathing that of sleep. She had long dark blond hair hanging over the side of the bed, her neck was long and the rest of her was under the cover.

I carefully made my way out of the bed so not to wake her up, put the dressing gown over my nightshirt and tiptoed out of the bedroom down to the kitchen. Putting the kettle on I was wondering who she was and how she came to be in my bed. Had a rapture happened between parallel worlds? If so, it was most unusual as it had never happened to me personally.

Always researching and investigating others experiences I never believed that I would personally experience a rapture between different dimensions. From upstairs I heard an almighty scream…

I ran up the stairs as fast as my old bones allowed and saw a naked, beautiful woman standing beside the bed. When she saw me she covered her breast with her right hand and took strands of her long hair with her left hand and covered her pubis. She watched me with and open mouth and suddenly started to scream, “Chi sono voi? Che cosa volete da me? Come vecchio bastardo brutto lo avete ottenuto qui? Voglio andare indietro a Sandro…”

“I’m sorry, I do not understand…” She did not listen but went on, “Don' inizi a comunicare con me in tale lingua barbara, voi idiota e sguardo me come quello voi piccolo uomo ripugnante.” She took a deep breath and her voice exploded: “FacciaqualcosaottenerlodnuovoaSandroo louccido - Sì sono nudo esso lo rendo caldo? Volete colza voi pervertito anziano o che altro voi vogliono se lo toccate io fanno qualche cosa di orribile a voi come lo schiacciamento delle vostre sfere graffi fuori i vostri occhi voi vecchio shriveled nessuno che lo pervertiate stupratore…”

“Stop it! I don’t understand Italian.”

“Sì sono italiano e che cosa sono voi merda ripugnante? E colloquio a me che capisco e non con i vostri suoni animali.”

“Madame, please. Me no parla Italian.”

She let out a screeching laughter. “Voi don' la parla l'italiano ma una certa sporcizia straniera, forse tedesco o francese?” She looked me with a questioning look. I said,

“Madame you look like Botticellies Venus…”

“Ah! Come conoscete Sandro Botticelli? È il lavoro di voi due per ottenerli qui? Ho saputo sempre che Sandro era un bastardo sleale. Ha voluto sempre ottenere fra i miei piedini - lo ha trovato per aiutarlo?”

She looked at me terrified as I took of my dressing gown and she clinched as I put over her shoulders. Then two tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Grazie signore…”

I led her gently down the stairs. She watched me horrified as I switched on the PC and went into Google Images.

She wimpered, “Signore, sono in modo da spaventato. Nonlo danneggi.”

 The picture of ‘The birth of Venus’ by Botticelli came up and when she saw it, she cried, “Quello è me! Ho corrisposto a Sandro che vernicia la nascita di Venus…”

Whilst she said it she faded away and my dressing gown flattered to the floor; but I still heard her calling, “Grazie signore. So ora che l'immagine sarà rifinita…”

I got the intense feeling that the woman just had woken from a nightmare she had in the other dimension, in a parallel world.

This extraordinary experience made me aware that this rapture between different worlds proved that time is not the same in all the worlds existing parallel beside each other.

I must apologize having written all she had said in the language she spoke. Don’t worry if you, dear reader, do not understand it, I didn’t either.

 P.S.

Some weeks later I woke up with a piece of parchment on my bed. Something was written on it, which I could not decipher. With the help of a friend in Oxford I was told that the message was a letter telling me that Sandro Botticelli had finished the painting “The Birth of Venus”. And it was exactly as the model had seen it on the magical machine. It was signed by Simonetta Vespucci. Now I knew the name of the fiery lady that in her nightmare had visited me.

 The Writer