“Will, where journeys my love? “ 

“Mother, darling, I go forth to see a psychic who dost newly come to our village who hath extraordinary powers to foretell the future.  They doth say she be a gypsy woman from far off mysterious lands.   Everyone doth speak of her highly, even our Maiden Queen.”

Thus, Will went forth to seek the advice of the mysterious woman from far off lands whose powers of prediction were the talk of Stratford-upon-Avon.  When he arrived at the colorful tent on the outskirts of the village, he saw before him a long line of his fellow villagers and others from nearby villages waiting to speak to the dark lady from unknown origins.  There were the village constable and the Queen’s guard standing in line with the peasants, but of course ahead of them.  Will took his place at the end of the line.  He had been saving his meager allowance for helping his father, John, with the tanning of leather.  Will waited patiently, listening to the crowd converse.

“They say she be a witch.” 

“I care not if she be one; I want to know what dost lie before me.”

Will waited and wondered what the “witch lady” would say.  Hours passed and Will was still determined to see the mysterious lady who had captured the attention of the residents of Stratford.  Finally, it was his turn, the last one in line.  He entered the colorful tent and there before him sat a woman dressed in the most exotic attire, with a veil of silk and hair darker than the night.    It took Will a moment to capture his breath before the woman directed the young boy to be seated at a round table covered in vermillion velvet.  She then spoke to him in the Queen’s English, but with a foreign accent.

“Well, what do we have here?”

“What be your name, young man?  Wait,  it dost begin with a W.”

Will’s eyes widened.  “Yes, my name be Will.”

”Of course, thou art Will, the most gifted of mortals.”

“Why dost thou say, ‘gifted of mortal’-  how so?”

“Well, young Will, show me, thy currency, and I dost speak the truth, and only the truth.”

Will laid down his six-pence, and the gypsy took his palm and, with an index finger painted in the same vermillion hue as the cover on the table, began to trace the mystery of his future in his palm.

“Thou will become the greatest of all mortals and thy works will span the passages of time.”

Will listened intently as the lady of mystery, seemingly in a trance, continued.

“Young Will, I dost foresee before you great wealth, a wife, senior to thy years,  and peoples far and wide gathered for thee.  I see thy greatness as thou dost bow before thy Noble Queen.  I dost foresee eternal voices praise thy name.  Thy name will be voiced in many tongues throughout time.”

Will had had enough.  He could hardly believe he wasted six-pence to hear this “witch lady” and her fevered mind speak such fairy tales.  He got up to leave, but the strange lady grasped his hand tightly and stared him in the eyes and smiled, saying:

“William Shakespeare, thou be – a name for eternity.”

Just then there was a flash of spiraling light and wind, causing all the trappings of the tent to begin swirling around in midair and then disappearing in a vortex along with the gypsy.  Will just stood in shock.  Then, suddenly, the earth started to shake and Will ran for the entrance of the tent, but before he could exit the tent, it too was swallowed by the vortex.  There stood Will in an empty field with no evidence of what transpired.

“Lorelei, come back .  Lorelei, when I count to three and snap my fingers, you will return to 2009.”

“One, two, three”

The psycho-hypnotist snapped his fingers and Lorelei awoke.

“Well, Lorelei, did you enjoy your journey into the past.  It was quite interesting that you saw yourself as a gypsy in Renaissance England, and that you met the Famous Bard, himself.”

“Doc, I really don’t remember a thing.   Boy, you really did put me under.  Anyway, did I say anything to help me with my obsessive compulsive disorder because I really do want to stop.”

 Lorelei glanced at her husband, Will, who sat there listening.

“Lorelei, I think I now understand the reason you find the need to collect all things related to Shakespeare.   Mr. Stratford, you now know why Lorelei has filled your home with Shakespearean paraphernalia.  You now know why she wants you to wear leotards in the bedroom with a cavalier hat.  You now know why she insists that she be called ‘Me Lady’.” 

Lorelei looked at her husband, and he looked at her.  Lorelei’s husband thanked the doctor for the session and ushered his wife to the door.    

“Will, what did I say?”

“Nothing, Dear - just a bunch of gibberish about a tent and a gypsy.  Let’s go home; Midsummer Night’s Dream is going to be on PBS tonight.”