It is November 1789 in the scratched out colonial town of Sydney. Eliza Collins (nee Swift) wakes to the giddy sensation that her lucid dreams have returned and that her body feels reawakened. Thirty-one, a widow and a student of enlightenment, Eliza dares to hope that her grief has finally lifted and that she can now renew her social contract. Today she will approach the astronomer and ask to work with him and with the women, learning the local language. This, she knows, is the key to her purpose. It is the new world and she will play her part in it.
Why then is the path to the headland so forbidding? Why, despite her gifts, is the language so opaque to her open mind? Why this doubting of her mystic visions in the vast antipodean starscape. Fireside ceremony, ominous intoning, forbidding guardians of the stars, all create mystery on her quest. Eliza’s dreams persist and seem full of promise, yet within them she senses a loss of power and insight.
Can this really be the promised new world? Eliza has her independence. She has her friend Meg. She is determined to fulfil her social contract. But the fledgling colony is struggling. Disease, hunger and thankless toil surround her. There is violence in the air. She faces doubt and despair. How is it that the most downtrodden still display glimmers of hope and calm wisdom? Eliza is challenged by spectres of grief returning, and in her dreams she encounters three mythical birds. She will learn to trust, she will learn this language, but not until she learns to listen.
In her dreams among the stars Eliza must surrender, first to the wiley raven, then to the sensuous owl and finally to the powerful, wild emu. She eventually unlocks the key to the Yura language and learns that her power lies not in creating the story of her future, but in sitting, listening, and quietly retelling the myths of this land. There, on the other side of time, sitting among the women, Eliza finds her place, in the space between the stars.
On her walk to the headland, Eliza encounters more characters from her dream. Joy soon turns to disappointment as shadows emerge and everything seems beyond her grasp. We learn of Eliza’s husband, Thomas.
Just as a bird yearns to sing, Eliza needs a way through to the language of the Yura. The winter settles in, and on the horizon come a series of changes that throw focus on despondency all around her.
As Spring arrives in the colony, Eliza gathers her spirit through her morning musings. Her dreams provide no insight to her purpose, yet they do arouse memories. We begin to see what sets Eliza apart.
The notebooks begin to reveal their mysteries to Eliza. She recalls the day when everything changed. Then that night when she knew she would sail alone. Eliza receives her first talisman.
Stories and memories unfold. Meg encourages Eliza to read from her sea journal and to remember. Tentatively she begins to read, and then to experience her interior journey anew.
Eliza recalls a secret. Her body alive with child. She reads again of the sea journey’s rituals, and is reminded of her bewilderment. Alone. Apart. A tumble of conflicting emotions.
Eliza’s mood lifts as her baby grows and they journey through warm, calmer seas. After leaving the Cape of Good Hope, Eliza senses disquiet as she prepares for birthing.
Meg consoles Eliza, encouraging her to remember happier times. We learn of Meg’s own loss and shining inner strength. Eliza receives her second talisman.
Eliza turns to Meg and begins to share her story. Gradually, the past unfurls in the telling. Her love for Thomas. Her sudden awakening. Her unbounded passion. Her hopes for their future.
As Eliza’s past resolves, here on the other side of time, a dangerous flashpoint ignites and we witness the end of the beginning. Alarmed birdcalls signal revenge and retribution.
