The gift of the castrated wizard.
What do you suppose it means when you wake from a dream with the message: “The princess didn’t come into her full powers until her father was castrated” playing over in your head?
It was an intricate fantasy confection of a dream, too. I was at times the rather misadventure-prone princess and at times her faithful companion child(boy, I think). We were scalawagging around the countryside when she was called back to the castle by the Queen(not her mother). We entered the Queen’s Chambers and She was occupied, finishing a painting of a half-naked maiden, while the Prince, her son, and her retinue watched. The young woman who was modelling for Her sat as though petrified(which she probably was). We had to wait attendance on Her while she finished, though we knew from the nervous glances of the courtiers that something dreadful was about to happen, or was already happening. My princess, familiar with court ways, played along, bickering in fine faux-sibling fashion with the Prince. He seemed a spiteful character, but she was trying to connect with him somewhere under all that, where perhaps (we hoped) he was still just a small boy.
When the Queen turned her attention on us, it was indeed horrible. Her gaze was penetrating, malicious and so very cold. She didn’t say much, but we knew at once that she had taken our father, the court wizard, into custody while we were gone and had summarily sentenced him to castration!
Somehow, the princess and I managed to flee and she commanded our way past confused servants into the subterranean temple vaults where he was being held. Furious, my princess fought her way to him, but she was too late, the evil deed had been done and he lay on a pallet, attended by nurses, looking old and weak and drained.
She cried out in anger and despair and laid her head against his heart. He cradled her and comforted her and a great sense of blessing descended on all of us. He seemed to grow larger, strong and shining, golden. He spoke to us without speaking and we felt the power flow into us and fill our hearts and minds and bodies. The princess and her father floated up to the ceiling and somehow I was with them, even as I was watching from the floor of the chamber. There was a lovely big tree in the center of the room, glorious and shining, studded with tiny, intricate ornaments that seemed to be spun of crystalline honey. The wizard and his daughter plucked them, or perhaps created some themselves and handed them to me and everyone present. Mine looked like a lily flower made of translucent golden wire.
We ate them and they were ambrosial, amazing.. Melting away in a sweet surprise that lasted long after the substance dissolved.