Imaginary journeys

Last night, I spent much of my time in imaginary journeys once again. The starting point, this time, was Istanbul, that mysterious place where Occident and Orient almost kiss. My count has just been there, doing what he and I together almost but then never did.

My journey began at the waters of the Bosporus, with two whales. One was a friend who came to see me and spend some time together, the other (appearing only later) was an Orca and rather bent on the opposite of friendship. Finally, all gates held and no harm was done. Thus my dream-self set out from Istanbul over the waves of distance and on to those wonderful places my mind so often circles around. In dreams, of course, time is even less important than when awake, and on the physical landscape of the world, too, it doesn’t force a single time.

Like that, a part of my dream-self flew over the sea to Alexandria, and then slowly returning upwards along the coast, visiting Jerusalem and Damascus. Also, I travelled into the lands and they were the lands of dream and magic, where great Kings and beautiful Queens had created lands and cities of wonder. Fairy tales of towers, domes, deserts and those elusive princes of the Persian realm.

Though at the same time, the other half of my dream-self remained near Istanbul, still with my whale friend, and received another very special guest. From the multi-coloured lands of far away and many dreams came the lady Peony, as a dear friend of old, to do what she always does: tell me tales and dreams of wonderful places. In my dream, as is the nature of dreams, she wore part of the appearance of a very wise professor of mine, and with that ladie’s voice, she told me about Dimashq and about the countries that lie east from there, and then east again and even further. Passing Samarkand, Tashkent, desert after desert and oasis after oasis along the many great ridges of mountains that rise into the endless blue sky above. She told me, quite probably, of my most favourite colour blue and of imperial porcelain, for that is indeed what she just yesterday did.

In fact, I do not know how far east I finally travelled this night, for most of my (and her, in my dream) attention was on the much closer near east of the distant past – just there at everyone’s fingertips in the reality of dreams.

And what better way, then, of waking up my sleepy beloved next to me than with the enchanting tunes of The Silk Road Orchestra, once I had left to magic of this night’s dreams.