She does not need to sleep, but she loves to rest. The night hours are devoted to the arts of love, reading, devising her self ornamentation, and occasional time travel, an endeavor that is something like dreaming. Reading and time travel are closely related, and they give her the time within an interior space in which to process the events of the day and the lessons of an infinitely long life.
One of the books on her nightstand is Gothicka.
Gothicka is a book that may help her explain herself to others. There are parts that focus on the evolution of heroine vampires such as herself, as she has developed into a modern legend, something like a patron saint, though she is not a saint of any religion. Yes, she has the attributes and habits of a saint, but a very worldly one, one that is deeply involved in this world and those who are the focus of her specific attention. She is not a deity, she does not have the power to change the world, or save the innocent from injustice and cruelty. She is an immortal being, who remains human, and so in that way is larger than life and more powerful than any other human being, to be known as an influence or if you are lucky enough to be chosen by her, intimately.
So what else is on/in her night table? That cabinet and its drawers hold an array of exquisite objects and amusements and information. There are flowers, letters, books, perfume, a clock that tells the time in all the capital cities, a brush, a fragrant drink, a sewing kit, fashion magazines, mementos, maps, lists, a lamp, candles, old photographs and miniature portraits, caskets containing their own worlds of details, a color diary.
Sometimes she lets herself turn into a swan.
She sometimes lets herself drift into memories of her childhood, another life, something about a Secret Garden, Inga Moore.
Or was she the little French illegitimate daughter of Rochester who married Jane Eyre, grown up in Paris and now living timelessly?
Living so deeply within her books as she reads, it’s hard to tell where one ends and she begins.
Clarimonde has many pasts, so sometimes she lies there and thinks and weaves together the strands of all the stories that live within her.