DREAM MAGUS OF BABYLON

It began with me having total awareness of all my senses. I was walking along, with Stephen on my right. We were under a large red and white circus tent. There was lots of straw on the sandy ground. There was the heavy methane bite high up my sinuses which reminded me at that point, of my troubled sinuses in the waking state. I marvelled to myself at the different animals, which I couldn’t see that I could distinguish from the varied smells of manure. Stephen was talking broadly as he always does when we walked together in the waking state, mostly as a way to deflect the distraction of people's hostility to our outré sexuality, or race. He remarked that he got me here because he always loved the circus, they were so much fun, and there was the odd chance that there would be a magician. He beamed, winking mischievously when he added the last thought. We walked along the straw-covered path with me enjoying the underlying currents of pride, and affection in his voice towards me. High overhead the red and white big top was being soaked to the threads, with the intense midday Sun that blazed down unrelentingly, in what was obviously a cloud-naked sky. There were tents and stalls of all colours, on either side of us as we progressed, which I noticed as I let my gaze rise from time to time, were all of the same large peppermint-striped schemata. I'd been aglow with joy for the attention Stephen was paying me; for my love of him. It was so real, so intimate being alone with him. But most importantly, I was pleased as all hell that here he was in the dreamtime, not only unaffected by the madness that had befallen his waking state body, but he was taller too. He wore a sexy Panama hat, which he was so fond of wearing on birthdays and special events, a sky-blue blazer that actually fit him and white slacks that sat comfortably on the crest of his tan leather shoes. The image of him was so warming it made the dream moment last a lifetime. I smiled at one point thinking of how not unlike the very dapper Carl Leroiderien he seemed. He was as well dressed, as always I'd have liked him to have been, and my few attempts in that direction he'd resisted. We came to a tent that was off to Stephen's right, and it had been his pausing that had made me look up. He beamed down at me with his customary open-mouthed silent grin brows arched high above smiling eyes. Gesturing, Stephen pointed up to the sign over the entrance that on a yellow board had a couple of stars that flanked a couple of cards, which in turn flanked a large crystal ball. Stephen's illumined face bore traces to a precocious; ofttimes obstinate, childhood about which his parents and friends had shared lovingly. Holding up the thick red velvet flap of the entrance, he ushered me inside to what, from the glare outside seemed an ocean of still, cool black light. He let the heavy flap drop noisily behind him and placed his left hand on the small of my back soothingly. The silence grew less stark as I grew accustomed, just as I began making out the tent's spacious periphery, I heard a voice. A soothing contralto, her voice seemed to pull her face into manifestation. A large wart sat high on her left cheek, while throughout her face wrinkles crested like strong waves breaking across the face of the high seas. Leaning forward over the black velvet-draped round table, earthy hands gestured invitingly offering stubby little fingers, each sporting a large luminous silver ring. I gave Stephen a look that said, "This is most clichéd." As if this entire dream were all his invention. He accepted my teasing by graciously offering me a seat on one of the two empty ottomans. Thick, bushy black brows stood independently arched up her ample forehead, making as best a display of her eyes. Large and direct, they had a life that betrayed the rest of her face. Never before had I ever seen eyes so richly blue, they were a deep lapis lazuli pushing royal purple. And soulfully sublime, they were solid as the black or brown of the eyes of most peoples of African descent are, not the usual luminescent glass beaded look of some hazel or blue eyes. They were warm, familiar, and the source of life itself. Her stout face matched the ample-bosomed body she wore, all of which was crowned in a turban of black with intense stabs of red, purple, blue, and yellow, also matching the dress she wore. In between her outstretched arms hovering just above the table top, was a large crystal ball which had at its center a blue ball of light. I smiled and following Stephen's directive I sat down he joining, now on the left. Stephen nodded to me inviting me to begin, and so off I went. Turning to her I started telling her that in the waking state I was experiencing much allergic reaction. I mentioned the pollen-rife winds at that time of year, and as I spoke I recalled that I'd also powdered the cats days earlier to control their fleas. As I spoke too, I found myself saying things as though another part of my totality were giving this medical history. I realized as I said it how true it was, that whenever I approached Stephen in the waking state my allergies would flare up and be so acute, as to make my being next to him almost impossible. Her voice came back in a heavy boom that declared; eyes open but fixed to the entrance and beyond, "Yes. This is because you're experiencing acute fear over this one...", she gestured to Stephen, "…leaving.