Opening her eyes, she rubbed at her face to waken herself wholly.  Peering at the clock on her
dressing-table, she saw to her surprise that it was quarter-past three.  She had been asleep for
almost three hours!  But there, she had felt so very tired and had obviously needed the rest. Pushing
aside the quilt, she sat up on the chaise-longue.  Looking around at the familiar scene, she shook her
head as if she couldn’t quite believe her surroundings.

 The dream had been so vivid, so lifelike that she thought herself still in that strange house, asleep on
the little bed with its lace-covered pillows and gossamer canopies, its feathery quilt and the rosy
glow of a lamp beside the bed.  The scent of roses. The voice of her Angel singing the sweetest
lullaby....

 Her Angel...!  Her Angel of Music!

 A smile tilted her lips.  Indeed, a most unusual angel, she thought.  No golden wings;  no white-clad
figure carrying a harp;  no shining halo around his magnificent head.  This dream angel had been a
strikingly tall and elegant man who chose to hide his features.

He too, had seemed so natural, so real and believable.  Even the mask had...

The mask!

 A little gasp escaped her.  Oh heavens, wasn’t it said around the Opéra that the Phantom wore a
mask?  Had she actually dreamed about the Phantom of the Opera?

She recalled Meg chattering about the Ghost and the fact that his face was always covered.  Joseph
Buquet claimed to have seen him once without the mask, when he had been working alone in the
third cellar.  The old man said that the Ghost was the ugliest man who ever lived and wore the mask
to hide his hideous features.  Yet he was an elegant creature, very tall and slender who always wore
full evening dress, insisted the ballet girls.

The Phantom!  She had dreamed of the Phantom!  Surely the Phantom was not an Angel?

 And yet it had been a wonderful dream, and he had appeared in it as her saviour and her friend.  An
intriguingly mysterious man in a strange yet fantastic dream.  Apart from that which had turned into a
nightmare.  A shudder ran through her.  Nightmares were horrid!  It was always a relief to wake up
after frightening visions which came in sleep.

Christine filled her small wash basin with water, briskly splashed her face and washed her hands.
Moving across the room she placed the kettle onto the hob of the small wood-burning stove which
provided both heat and minor cooking facilities.  As it heated, she prepared a tray and placed her
almond pastry upon a small plate, along with a little fruit in order to assuage her hunger until she
could have her evening meal after rehearsal had finished and they could all go home.  Filling the little
teapot with hot water to brew the light China tea, she placed it on the tray and took it to her
dressing-table, where she propped up her script and started to read through it as she ate and drank.

But as hard as she tried to concentrate on the score, her mind kept drifting back to her dream, that
extraordinary world she had inhabited in her sleep.  Papa!  Darling Papa had been sitting nearby as
she’d languidly drifted to and fro on the pretty, flower-bedecked swing.  They had exchanged
affectionate smiles as he played his violin and she swung back and forth.  And then came that
horrible part, the nightmarish part, where she had been pushed higher and higher by an unseen
malevolence until she fell from the swing and tumbled into nothingness.

Her silent screams as she fell;  her arms flailing helplessly;  her body plummeting ever downward into
that great black abyss.  It had all been so vivid, so completely terrifying.

But the arms which had stretched out to her, so boldly catching her fall! Such a heroic gesture from
the unseen being who had proved himself her guardian angel.  Oh, to meet such a man in real life!  A
man to teach her, guide her, give her confidence in herself and her abilities.  And that beautiful voice
– surely the voice of an angel could be no sweeter.  An Angel of Music...yet a man...to love her...

 Christine pondered on her dream, her script forgotten.  Perhaps the dream mirrored her hopes, her
fears. She felt so strongly that she had failed Papa and his dearest wish for her to become a great
opera diva.  To her own mind, her voice was a wispy rag of sound, a timorous and feeble affair.
Yes, she had graduated from the Conservatoire with credit, but since she had joined the chorus here
at the Paris Opéra, nothing had come about as she had hoped.   She was just another chorus girl,
shy and rather quiet though eager and willing to work hard.

Madame Carlotta hated her, although she did not know why.  Could it have been the diva who
manifested in her dream as the malicious spirit who had pushed her with evil intent?  No surely not,
Christine thought.  I cannot believe she wishes me harm.  No, it must be my own mind, my fears of
failure and incompetence which conjured up that dark abyss.

 Why was she such a timid and faint-hearted creature? She despised her seeming inability to make
something of her life. The managers ignored her.  Of course, Madame Giry was strict with everyone,
not just her.  Meg, darling Meg, was her good and dear friend, but there were a few dancers who
laughed at her, thinking her a strange witch of a girl from a foreign land.

Christine sighed as she finished her light repast.  Perhaps dreaming of the Angel of Music was an
omen?  Papa had always promised that he would send this heavenly creature to her but so far, he
had not materialised.  Maybe the Angel would come to her very soon?  Oh please, let it be!

She washed her dishes and tidied the room.  Retrieving her practice pumps, she bent forward to tie
up the ribbons.  A puzzled frown crept over her face and stilled her hands for a moment.  Surely she
hadn’t removed her shoes?  She could not recall taking off one single item of clothing because she’d
been so fatigued.  How very odd, she thought, then gave a little shrug as she continued to tie the
ribbons.

Moving across to the huge mirror she adjusted her costume and pinned up a few stray curls which
had loosened in sleep.  She stared at her reflection, seeing a slender, dark-haired girl with
long-lashed blue eyes, the slight frown still there upon her smooth forehead, and shoulders that
slumped all too often in an attitude of dejection.

 “Christine....”

 The fragment of sound echoed around the room.

Christine jumped away from the mirror, hands flying up to her throat as she looked about her for the
source of that sound.

“Yes?”, she gasped.  “Yes, I—I’m here!”

 “Christine....”

 Came the voice again, full of tender solicitude.

 Startled now into complete awareness, her passive stance became that of a straight-backed,
responsive young girl whose erstwhile lacklustre expression turned to one of sparkling attention.

“Angel, oh Angel!...is it really you?...”, she whispered incredulously to the air around her.

“It is I, Christine.  I, your Angel of Music, here to tell you that henceforth, you need have no fears,
for I shall be with you.  Come to me here tonight and I will teach you;  give you my music;  help you
and guide you and lead you to the path of shining glories. Tell no-one of these lessons, for they shall
be out secret but remember, I am your friend, Christine.  Together, we will make your voice into an
instrument of purity and radiance such as has never been known before.  Go forth, my little one, and
hold your head high.”

“Yes, yes I will, Angel!  Thank you, oh thank you, for coming to me when I needed you so much!  I
must go to rehearsal now but when I come back, you will be here, won’t you?”  Christine’s eyes
were shining with joy as she glimpsed a magic world unfolding before her.

“I will be here waiting for you, then you shall sing for me.”

“And you will teach me, Angel?  Help me to become a great singer?”

“Together, Christine, we will make all dreams come true.  You will sing as you have never sung
before.  All I ask is that you tell no-one.  If you do, then I must leave you forever.”

 “I promise, Angel, with all my heart.  I will not tell a living soul.”  Christine vowed fervently.

 “Very well, child.  We will begin our first lesson in this room tonight.  Go now to your rehearsal and
come to me when all is finished and the theatre unoccupied.”

 “I will be here.  And...thank you, dearest Angel!”  Christine smiled radiantly as with an uplifted heart
and wings on her feet, she raced out of the room and went to join the company on stage.