Chapter 3
Joss sat in a small restaurant, enjoying her dinner. It had been a fabulous day, start to finish. The librarian in charge had been a little rattled by her appearance, she could tell. She suspected he’d been anticipating someone older, plainer and more academic-looking, but he couldn’t argue with her letter from Dr. Al-Azem, and finally allowed her access to the collection. She’d started out asking the clerk to bring her the first of the two volumes she most wanted to see, and from then on, she was lost. Jocelyn read and read and read, taking notes, making sketches and occasionally stopping to dab quickly at her eyes before she could commit the atrocity of dropping of tear onto one of these hallowed publications. It had been years since she’d had the time and the freedom to pursue her passion for all things Egyptian, much less being able to read these books while in
Once she’d worked her way through the two special volumes, she simply browsed through the unrestricted shelves of the collection, reading a little here and there. She studied maps, examined artifacts, made notes and generally had a lovely wallow in information. The men working at the library got used to her presence at last, even offering her some lunch when they took their break. Jocelyn was amazed to discover that, first, it was after one o’clock, and, second, she was starving. She ate with three of the staff members in a small back room, gratefully sharing the order one of them had brought in from food vendors in the street. There was a wonderful chicken dish that they ate with pita bread, hummus and an assortment of fresh fruit. After lunch, she’d returned to the stacks, where she read and worked until the library closed.
Joss wanted to branch out a bit from eating at the hotel, although the food there was excellent. She’d asked the staff at the library for suggestions, and several of them had assured her that an outstanding meal could be had for very little at a family-run restaurant on the same street as the library, but in the opposite direction from the hotel. She thanked them profusely for their help with the books, for lunch and for their dinner recommendation and headed back to the hotel. By the time she got to her room, she decided a quick shower and a change of clothes were needed before she sat near anyone trying to eat. The water felt wonderful, and the sandalwood soap provided by the hotel made her senses sing. “I have to see if I can buy some of this to take back with me,” she thought as she lathered herself. “It not only smells divine, but it makes my skin so soft!”
Feeling more human, Jocelyn tried to decide what to wear. Being used to a cool climate, she was finding it a challenge to look decent and not die of heatstroke. Fortunately, she’d done some online research before she arrived and after firmly disregarding all the tips saying not to visit
Now she was sitting an outside table facing a quiet side street, relishing her meal. She’d started with a curried pumpkin soup so delicious she’d had to fight the urge to stick her face right down into the soup plate and lick it clean. The second course consisted of some wonderful couscous and minced vegetables simmered in broth and fingers of delicate dough filled with a seasoned lamb mixture. Night had fallen, and a deep purple sky stretched overhead. There were candles on all the tables and some street musicians were playing close by . . . she could hear the exotic strains in the background. As she sipped her tea, Jocelyn gave a long sigh of contentment. For the first time since she’d lost Stephen, she felt a peace about being alone. Until now, she’d still mourned not only the loss of the man, but the loss of being half of a couple. For over two decades, she’d always had someone else there, someone to do things with, talk to and look out for as he’d looked out for her. Losing that security had been devastating.
But, here she was, sitting by herself in a new restaurant in a foreign country, and doing just fine, thank you. Oh, this trip had been a wonderful idea . . . she needed this to shake her out of the shell that she’d built around herself. Nothing like jumping into the deep end to find out if you can still swim! The waiter came to see if she wanted dessert, and Joss was going to refuse until he showed her the tray. While she was quite resistant to chocolate, the flaky, honey-soaked pastries of the region were another matter. When she seemed hesitant, the waiter had playfully waved the tray beneath her nose, his eyes twinkling. “OK, OK,” she finally said. “But if they won’t let me on the plane because I’m too fat, I’m blaming it on you!” She chose the smallest pastry he had and ate it very slowly, letting the sweetness linger on her tongue.
After leaving a generous tip and bidding her friendly waiter goodnight, Jocelyn made her way slowly back to the hotel, enjoying the walk. She’d been there long enough that she was beginning to recognize a number of the hotel staff, and they exchanged smiles and quiet greetings as she went through the lobby. The doors of the elevator opened and she got on, nodding at the other occupants and pressing the button for her floor. Her lovely, lovely room was waiting for her, the bed turned down, the table lamps on low and a small tray of cookies on the table by the large window. “This,” Joss thought, “this is a mighty fine way to live!”
She got a glass of water and then settled into one of the wooden chairs with her notebook, keeping the cookies within reach. Working through the notes she’d taken that day, Joss was thrilled again by what she’d been able to learn and the resources she’d had in her hands. When this trip was over, she was going to owe Dr. Al-Azem the best thank-you letter she’d ever written. In fact, she needed to do more than that. She resolved to keep an eye out for some special gift that she could send to him, something that would let him know how much she appreciated the effort he’d made to ensure that this trip would be even more wonderful than she’d hoped.
Before long, she began to feel drowsy and opted for bed. She felt a small frisson of excitement as she brushed her teeth . . . what would her dreams hold for her tonight? “Now, stop it,” she said firmly to her reflection. “That was a one time only bit of weirdness. Tonight you’ll just have your normal, ordinary dreams. Maybe you’re so tired you won’t dream at all!” She rinsed her mouth and turned off the bathroom light, moving into the room. She turned off the table lamps, watching the shadows deepen in the room as she did so. Sliding between the sheets, Jocelyn arranged the pillows to her liking and darkened the bedside light. She settled back, breathing deeply. The curtains were doing their soft dance at the windows, the bed was wonderfully comfortable, and in a few minutes, she sank into a deep sleep…
She stood at the edge of the bazaar, watching the riders come down the dune. Her whole being was focused on the man in front, although she could not yet see him well enough to pick out any distinguishing features. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she reach him, speak to him, touch him. Jocelyn began to run, fighting for a foothold in the sand. They came closer, and the excitement of the people at the bazaar swelled to a roar. Quiet! They needed to be quiet! He’d never hear her if they kept shouting that way and he had to hear her, he must! She screamed out to him, begging him to wait for her, but the dark riders continued on, heedless of her pleas.
He was close enough now that Joss could make out some details. The man was tall—even allowing for him being on horseback, she was sure he was over six feet. He was dressed in flowing black, some kind of long tunic, perhaps, or robe worn over loose pants. A black turban of a style she’d never seen covered his head, and a black scarf attached to the turban protected the lower part of his face. Wide belts crossed his chest, and a sword or knife hung from his waist. Everything about him spoke of power, authority and control. Her chest tightened with fear as the riders moved past, never slowing. No! This can’t happen! He had to see her, he had to stop! Jocelyn struggled against the difficult footing, crying out to the unknown horseman, but on he rode, over the next dune . . . gone. She collapsed, sobbing, the anguish overwhelming her spirit.
Jocelyn jerked awake, gasping, sobbing, shaking. Oh, no . . . what was happening to her? It was like last night, but even worse. The pain of seeing the dark rider disappear from sight was so intense she thought her heart would burst. “It’s just a dream . . . it’s not real. The man isn’t real!” Why was this affecting her so deeply? What did the black-clothed horseman represent? “No, I am NOT getting into dream analysis! It must be something I saw once, in a movie or something, and being in
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A Dream Realized – Chapter 4