The Dream Mirrors: A Metaphysical Mystery of Magick: Witches of Maple Hollow, #2

This captivating story beautifully illustrates how nature, the elements, dreams, and human connection serve as guides, revealing the profound interplay between our physical reality and the unseen dimensions of mind, spirit, and emotion. It reminds us that nothing is working against us—everything conspires to help us grow, evolve, and embrace life's mysteries. Through an intricately woven narrative, the author explores the next frontier of multidimensional living. A visionary and uplifting read that inspires us to see beyond the ordinary and step into the expansive possibilities of existence of the unseen world. – Cathleen Beerkens, Bestselling Author of Your Creator Matrix

Lose yourself in the ancestral mansion of Maple Hollow where haunted mirrors line the walls and dreams guide the way. Rich with sorcerer-themed imagery, everyday witches, and secret portals, this atmospheric tale combines edge-of-the seat action with metaphysical musings on the self and the soul. – Katherine Bell, PhD, The Dream Journal Podcast

A mystical tale which unfolds through dream imagery and includes wisdom to discover who you truly are. – Meera Ishaya, Author of Surrender is good for the Soul: The art of surrendering to gain fulfilment in life

I felt the magic of this world from the very first chapter. The imagery is captivating and so easy to visualize, and the characters are likeable right away. Megan's love for Hannah and Maple Hollow is clear from each enchanting word. – Kirsten McNeill, Worthy Writers Coaching

The Dream Mirrors

A Metaphysical Mystery of Magick

Megan Mary

Inner Realms Publishing

The story, all names, places, characters, locations, events and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Any use of this publication to train generative AI intelligence (AI technologies) is expressly prohibited. The author and publisher reserve all rights to license uses of this work.

Copyright © 2025 by Megan Mary Iudice

Published by Inner Realms Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information contact:

Inner Realms Publishing info@innerrealmspublishing.com

MeganMary.com

Book cover by Dragana Nikolic

Illustration by Melissa Rankin

Editing by Ivywild Editing & Writing Services LLC

979-8-9900882-6-9 (hardcover)

979-8-9900882-9-0 (dustjacket)

979-8-9900882-5-2 (paperback)

979-8-9900882-8-3 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2025907099

To my husband, whose heroic efforts saved our home and cats Merlin & Milu, from what could have been a devastating and tragic fire in the winter of 2025. It is only through his quick thinking and courageous action, the protection of our spirit guides, and the synchronistic alignment of all planets on that day, that this book is now in your hands.

Contents

Foreword

Prologue

1.The Fog

2.The Party

3.The Portal

4.The Icehouse

5.The Library

6.The Disappearance

7.The Reversal

8.The Discovery

9.The Legacy

10.The Mirrors

11.The Illusionix

12.The Shop

13.The Shore

14.The Shade

15.The Journal

16.The Garden

17.The Eclipse

18.The Tower

19.The Armoire

20.The Path

21.The Skye Mirror

22.The Communing

23.The Owls

24.The Trees

25.The Mirror Attack

26.The Leaf

27.The Vortex

28.The Fire

29.The Box

30.The Well

31.The Lightning

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

A Note to the Reader

About the Author

Foreword

Readers of Megan Mary’s previous book, The Dream Haunters, will be pleased to follow the adventures of her characters in her latest book, The Dream Mirrors: A Metaphysical Mirror of Magick. The narrative pitches the reader into a world of dreams, storms, mirrors, cats, pumpkins, and spells. I say pitched because at the heart of the narrative is the vortex, the sense of matter in circular motion, whether as minute as an atom or as vast as a galaxy. The author weaves dream interpretation seamlessly into the series of events. At every turn, I recognised the interpretation methodologies as laid out in my book, Dreams: Exploring Uncharted Depths of Consciousness (Mandrake, 2020). The story’s setting, Skye Manor, is on an island remote, yet connected to the cosmos. Nor does the author shun technology, the characters (Hannah, Aunt Jewelia, Morgan, Ashlin, Old Man Adams) making a healthy use of cars and telephones as they battle the dark forces of the Illusionix. And dispelling illusion is central to the tale, as Hannah is presented with the philosophy of the mirror, learning that what she (and we) see in the glass is but one step towards finding the true self.

The mirror is a topic that I explore in my later book, Wicked Uncles and Haunted Cellars: What the Gothic Heroine Tells Us Today (Greenwich Exchange, 2024). Other gothic motifs that endear Megan Mary’s narrative to me include the ever-pervading storm, the old house and family connections, and unravelling mysterious documents. I was touched also with her selective use of the Celtic language, actually Irish, which I learned while growing up in Dublin. Above all is the warm sense of connection between the female characters, the sense that all women (fictional and real) can throw off victimhood and take our own steps towards self-actualisation, that we are not helpless pawns. This is a message I stress again and again in "Wicked Uncles, the gothic heroine being an intelligent, energetic, and rational trope emergent in the literature of the time. Since The Dream Mirrors" is the second in Megan Mary’s series, the time to get acquainted with her fiction is now.

– Mary Phelan, Author of Dreams: Exploring Uncharted Depths of Consciousness and Wicked Uncles and Haunted Cellars: What the Gothic Heroine Tells Us Today

Prologue

9:36pm September 9, 2009

Rain pummeled the hood of her cloak as Hannah ran fast into the woods. The sky cracked open with an earth-shattering clap of thunder, and multiple bolts of lightning activated across the vastness above Skye Manor. Her feet fell heavily upon the moist soil, her heart racing in her chest. The metal clanged on the lantern she held as it thrashed rapidly to and fro. Tree branches seemed to be trying to block her path as she sought a way through the thick woods.

Ahead of her, another cloaked figure ran at full speed. The woman ducked and held her arms up against the branches, swinging wildly in defense.

Wait! Wait! Hannah yelled, desperation welling up inside her. The storm’s deafening thunder rocking her core each time it released another onslaught; it felt as if she were on a battlefield of darkness. The trees that had seemed so welcoming during the day had now become obstacles preventing her desperate attempts to move through them.

At that moment the figure began to slow her pace and stagger from side to side. Hannah closed in, extending her hand outward, the tips of her fingers just touching the cloak as it fell. She attempted to catch it but the dead weight of the woman inside crashed to the ground into a soggy pile of leaves. Hannah swooped down to kneel over her, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her. Jezebelle! Jezebelle! she said urgently, but there was no response. Jezebelle lay solidly still, unconscious, frozen.

Chapter one

The Fog

3:33 am September 9, 2009

Earlier, that very morning, while everyone was sleeping in the manor and the moon was still high in the sky, the mysterious fog of the island of Maple Hollow began to rise off the sea and creep slow and low onto the manor grounds. Having left its watery rest, it crawled onto the rocks near the shore, penetrating every nook and cranny. Once it had filled the empty spaces, it began rolling over the tops of them like a gentle wave. It crept into the vast pumpkin patch around the manor, wetting the elaborate vines and coating the large gourds with a dewy mist. It moved past the first strands of grass onto the long walkway that led from the sea to the manor, filling the space between the towering shrubs that lined the pathway. Further it spread, not dissipating but rather gaining speed as it made its way from sea to shingle.

As it approached the manor it rose higher, turning into a towering tornado that rose up and up until it reached the open window of Hannah’s bedroom, high above the ground. Hannah was fast asleep in her bed, the gentle purr of Midnight the black cat vibrating near her head on her pillow. The fog crept into the window, first as wispy fingers, then undulating and rising into fullness as it filled the entire bottom of the room from floor to bed.

Midnight raised his head, noticing the change in moisture and temperature in the room. His eyes grew wide as he perused the fog surrounding them, his whiskers twitching and ears rotating from side to side. He rose from his slumber and stood shifting his weight, one of his front paws on Hannah’s chest. He slowly exhaled on Hannah’s face, his whiskers gently tickled her nose.

Hannah began to awaken. She moved her fingers. Then, in an instant, her eyes snapped open, as if she instinctively sensed someone was in the room. Also at that moment, as if there were a vacuum in another dimension sucking it all up, the fog instantly poured into the mirror over the dresser across the room from the bed, and it was gone.

Hannah sat up, unaware of what had just crossed her path. She gave a few gentle pets to Midnight’s head and back and looked over at the slightly open window. Behind her, a swirl of fog circled in the mirror, the final remnants of its passage to the other side.

Undetected until its time of recognition. Lying in wait for that moment of reflection to come.

Chapter two

The Party

6:33pm September 9, 2009

Agreat storm surged outside the warm and dry confines of Skye Manor. The rain beat against the tall, arch-shaped windows that lined one wall of the great hall, the panes gilded with wrought-iron bars. On either side of the windows, heavy velvet curtains hung. The lights were dim. In the middle, stood a stately dining table, large enough to fit twenty or more people. It had been the great gathering place of old. So many important meetings this hall had seen ... if only the table could whisper the tales.

The gentle sound of distant, lovely piano music filled the room. From the rafters of the hall hung a long row of ornate chandeliers, their metal curving onto itself in a round pumpkin shape. Tiny tassels and crystals hung from each one, catching the flames and making them dance around the room.

A hearty fire churned and cracked inside the grand fireplace, its bright light reflected on the stone floor. Above it hung a large mirror, its glass as dark as a black hole in a galaxy. Candlelight flickered as wax slowly dripped down the sides of the multiple candles that were balanced in large iron candelabras on the enormous table. Ancient columns of cream stone, cracked from years of aging, rose up from the ground towards the sky.

Large decanters of wine and delicate champagne flutes were placed carefully around the table, circling the baroque tapestry runner gilded with etchings of Celtic knotwork. Strewn about every corner of the great hall were large portraits of people legacies old, their faces telling a tale all their own. They sat silent as the room awaited its guests.

The table was set for six, three on each side. It was spilling with fruits, nuts, and breads all piled upon opulent serving trays. Halves of oranges, crisp apples, persimmons, and pomegranates were nestled among opulent black, red, and green grapes. Hazelnuts, walnuts, almonds, cashews, and nuts of all shapes and sizes filled in the empty spaces until there wasn’t a speck of space left.

The sound of clicking heels echoed through the room as Jewelia Skye descended the stairs. Her slender frame was wrapped in a cascading sumptuous velvet dress. Her long black hair tumbled past her shoulders as she crossed the foyer, entered the great hall, and surveyed the scene to make sure everything was prepared. The guests would be arriving any minute to join herself and her niece Hannah, and she wanted it to be perfect.

Her concentration was broken by a cracking knock at the front door, caused by the manor’s heavy iron gargoyle knocker. She glided into the foyer and opened the door with anticipation. Morgan! she said, a rich smile crossing her deep red lips. She reached out her hand to welcome her in. You’re just in time.

Well, hello, my dear, Madame Morgan said warmly, lowering the hood of her cloak as she crossed the threshold, revealing her long silver curls and deep green eyes.

Come inside and warm your bones. Jewelia ushered her longtime friend toward the parlor that opened off the foyer. It was filled with lavish violet upholstered furnishings and featured a large window flanked on either side by tall white columns and red curtains.

At that moment, Old Man Adams appeared from down the hall carrying a large tray of wine glasses filled to the brim with glowing liquid. He had been the caretaker of Skye Manor since Jewelia was young. Living in his own cottage tucked away in a cozy corner of the grounds, he would happily offer his assistance to Hannah and Jewelia whenever special occasions arose. He shined up his usual weathered appearance for the dinner by donning a crisp white collared shirt, satin black vest, and a dark cap to obscure his snowy white hair. "Can I