“But the dream was so real. The same dream over
and over. In the dream, she was there and so were you.”
“Yes, in a way she does exist but she is not a
servant. She is my daughter.” He paused to let this
information absorb. “Tell me what you remember of the
dream.”
My eyes remained closed but I knew by his tone
that he was eager for me to speak. Though weak, I
attempted to describe the visions that had filled my sleep.
“The dream was always the same. I was in this bed,
naked and bound as I am now. The young woman…your
daughter…appeared, wrapped entirely...and only...in a
cloud. Her body was perfect and pure. Her face a mask of
white extending to the line of the lower edge of the jaw.
Her lips were painted a bright red color. There was no
expression on her face. Never, at any time, did she betray
any emotion except for a slight dilation of the nostrils. It
was as if she were there to perform a task that she neither
liked nor disliked doing. Complete detachment. When she
was done, her task performed, she disappeared again
within a cloud.” I hoped he would press me no further.
“Continue” he instructed. “I must hear your
recollection of the details.”
We were two men, both worldly and experienced
though I dare say he had the better of me in both
departments. Still, he was asking me to recount the actions
of his daughter and my participation in them. Whether real
or imagined, I was reluctant to be as frank with him as true
accuracy required. I attempted to raise my body up by
bending my elbows but the restraints and my weakened
condition prevented much movement.
21