Postmarked Peili

There was an envelope adhered to the mirror. I was positive I had not seen it when I saw the mirror before, nor when I had first sat down in the seat opposite. I cautiously got up and walked slowly to the mirror, focusing as much on the reflection in it as on the envelope. I didn't trust the place to not change suddenly, as it had proved it could do so in small ways which were not settling well with me.


I pulled the envelope off the mirror surface and examined it. For all intents and purposes it very much resembled a legitimately normal letter, until the markings were examined. It was addressed to me- E. Gridelin, Waiting room No. E76....? Leeds, England. The Outer world.

Bollocks. This was a blasted dream if there ever was. One of those dreams where you try to wake up and you only arrive in another dream where it seems like you've awakened, except your bed is levitating and the ground is tiled in slices of toast slathered with alternating colors of jam.

"Fine. I'm lucid then. I'm in a dream and I know it. Let's make the best of it, shall we?"
(So, I talk to myself. It's fairly normal for me. Don't tell me you don't break into soliloquy when no one else is about?)

Anyhow...the envelope was covered with the prerequisite postmarks and cancellations, but like none I had ever seen. The stamps were lovely if not bizarre, and all of them like the sticker for the return address was for a place called Tirahvaalta. Though my geography was escaping me at the time, I was quite sure that such a place did not exist. Not in the "normal" world anyhow.

But, this was a dream, and it didn't really matter what I thought did or didn't exist. I opened the envelope carefully and pulled out a very formal looking invitation.
It read:

Salutations, Ms. Gridelin.
By great fortune and even greater necessity, Her Peculiar and Chromatic Eminence, Oriel Crespina De Carnate, La Valtana de Tirahvaalta has requested your presence
on this auspicious day;
The 34th of Glockenspiel, to report to the Royal Palace of Peili straightaway.

We look forward to your arrival,

Signed with sincere and honorable regards,
Cuthbert Bluenose, Palace Steward

.............
What does one say to such an invitation? Better yet how does one attempt to get to said destination when there are no doors to be had? Bugger.
I read the invitation again to see if it returned any clues I may have missed. I flipped over the card, peeked inside the envelope, then read the card again. I sighed deeply.

There was a note sticking to the mirror in pompous handwriting.
"My dear thing, DO try the mirror."
I picked off the note and glowered at it. "No reason to get snippy." I spoke aloud at it. I flipped it over.

"And don't forget to bring the book and keys, you silly girl."

I crumpled the paper, annoyed at being harped at by it and tossed it into a corner. I thought I may have heard the note scream quietly as I did so. It made me quite pleased.

After retrieving the book and keys, which I placed back into my pockets, I stood in front of the mirror. "Alright, " I said aloud. I've read "Through the Looking Glass". I'm not daft. All I have to do is step through, right?" Somehow, getting myself to perform the action was not nearly as easy as speaking the idea. Gingerly I put my hand on the surface of the glass, which felt solid at first but then seemed to melt like syrup... and my hand soon disappeared into the surface with a vague ripple. Gathering some courage, I decided that I should take the "quickly like pulling off a bandage approach" and stepped into the mirror.

It was less like stepping through a door than being absorbed by a gelatinous dessert. A fascinating feeling really. I felt myself inside the mirror glass, and turned to look back out of it into the room I had just been in. Everything was tinged an odd bluish green. I turned again and headed forward into the dimness.