A Dream from the Gods
That night, I dreamed of home.
In the dream, I was in the theatre in Leptis Magna. I had never actually been there, but my father had described it to me, so I knew what I was seeing. I was sitting on the topmost tier of seats, looking down at an empty stage.
The theatre was enormous, like Olympus. I felt dizzy. The marble columns on the stage were taller than the tallest trees I had ever seen, taller than pines or palms. Through them I glimpsed a line of rich blue sea behind the pillars, flecked with white-topped waves. I was perched so high that I could see the roundness of the world.
On each side of the stage stood huge statues of the Diascuri, the holy twin gods. Enormous, cast in shining bronze, they looked like real giants with tanned, sweaty skin. Their eyes were picked out in white glass and they gleamed as if they were alive. I realised that they were watching us, the audience. Except there was no audience – there was only me. Strangely, this did not disturb me, or at least, only deep in the back of my head, as if someone far away from me was shouting a warning. I knew why I was there; I was there to see a story.
My father said that dreams were very important. If someone came to him feeling unwell, one of the first things he would ask was: “What dreams have you been having?” Dreams were one of the ways in which the gods spoke to us, and Asclepius often sent cures in dreams. The great doctor, Galen, had cured his own serious illness after following the advice of a dream. So, I told myself, even in the dream, that I had to pay close attention. Whatever was being shown to me was important. But although I waited and waited, the play did not begin. The stage was empty. All I could see was the sea behind the pillars.
I began to feel as though something was wrong. As the shadows lengthened, the Diascuri seemed to frown at me.
I gripped the cold marble edge of my seat, frightened. Even the sea seemed shadowed, although there were no clouds in the sky. Then, I realised that it was not a shadow. It was a wave – a huge wave the length of the entire horizon. It was coming towards me, and growing fast.
I leapt to my feet. A distant rumble and crash told me it had hit the shore. Spray flew up in the air, with shards of stone, brick and dust. Where there had been a forest of columns, there was suddenly just boiling sea, racing towards me faster than wild white horses.
I screamed.
The wave came, racing up through the helpless city, drowning the houses, smashing down the trees, tossing boats like blossom in the wind, spurting between columns, swamping the Diascuri, heading straight towards me. I tasted salt and felt spray in my face—
Then I woke up, my heart pounding.
The moonlight was shining straight through my window and I was soaked in sweat. My blankets were twisted and tumbled on the floor. I could hear voices and hurrying feet outside in the courtyard and wondered if I had screamed so loudly that I had woken people up. The dream had been so horribly real. I could only think of one meaning: I was going to die soon. After all, the wave had come for me and no one else in the theatre.
“I don’t want to die!” I sobbed out loud.
Hooves clattered outside in the courtyard. The light was not all moonlight, I realised; some of it was torches carried by people outside. This surely wasn’t all happening because of my nightmare. I jumped up and went to look out of the window.
The courtyard was full of men and horses. The men wore armour and carried flaming torches. The horses snorted and shook their harnesses till they jingled. I spotted a familiar shape, a box carried by weary slaves: the Emperor’s litter. Then I heard a voice that was more than familiar.
“Father!” I gasped.
I didn’t stop to think if I were dressed to go out or not, I just flung open the door, raced down the stairs and threw myself into his arms.
I was home at last.