Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again, I came as no one, with my name half-alive, a girl in her shadow, a guest she would not survive. Rebecca… Rebecca… There was someone in the wallpaper, someone in the air — not a body I could point to, only proof she'd been there. And her R lay sewn in the linen like a stain, the silver knew her, the long halls knew her name. And the west wing is sleeping but it isn't asleep, and the cold of her perfume still rises from the deep — Manderley again, Manderley again, the house only answers to one; I am only the shadow that follows your name, you're the moon and I'm dust of the sun. Rebecca, Rebecca — the sea gives you up but the walls keep you near; I am the wife with no name of my own, and the woman they love isn't here. They called me the mistress, but the title felt like lace, thin enough to tear on feeling, thin enough to show my face. "Look at the girl in her borrowed place — the cliff is so gentle, the fall is so clean…" Then the boat, and the bay, and the truth in the dark: he never loved her — he buried that, like a spark. And the lie becomes love, and the love becomes dread, and the secret comes up from the water like the dead — Manderley again, Manderley again, the house only answers to one; I am only the shadow that follows your name, you're the moon and I'm dust of the sun. Rebecca, Rebecca — the sea gives you up but the walls keep you near; I am the wife with no name of my own, and the woman they love isn't here. But the secret breaking did not set me free, it only changed the shape of the dread in front of me; and I heard my own name for the first time in the smoke — his name, in the dark… but look — the horizon's awake. Manderley's burning, Manderley's burning, the sky over Cornwall is red as her gown; the R turns to ash and the sea takes the rest, and the great house is coming, is coming, is coming, is coming — is coming down. Rebecca… Rebecca… Rebecca… …we can never go back to Manderley.
