Dream of: 30 September 2001 "Moslem Beauty"

As I was walking along a residential street, I slipped between two houses, walked through a back yard, and came out on a picturesque little creek. I began walking along the tree-shrouded stream, stepping from rock to rock, relishing the beauty and solitude. But to my dismay, the creek stumped to an abrupt end against a curved three-meter high wall of ponderous white rock.

As I starred perplexedly at the wall, wondering which way to turn next, I was surprised to notice an attractive black-haired woman, dressed in a long white dress, standing amidst the weeds on the bank. I walked up to her and we immediately struck up a conversation. She was probably in her mid 20s and I felt about the same age as she. She quickly led me to her house, sitting amid the trees, and we walked inside. We descended straight to the basement, which was arranged like a den or living room.

I quickly realized that the woman didn't live here alone, that she still lived with her mother and father. I also realized this was a Moslem family which had moved here from a Moslem land; I wondered which country they were from. I was most concerned the mother and father would return home and be angry to find me here. I asked the woman when her parents would be back, and she told me not to worry, that they wouldn't return for several hours.

I sat down in an easy chair. Behind me stood a bookshelf ranged with books. On one shelf stood a set of 30-40 large volumes with light blue cloth covers. I picked up a volume and leafed through it; it was filled with pictograms which looked distinctly Mayan. I was fascinated. Ancient Mayan writing was extremely rare; these books must contain all the known Mayan writings. What a fascinating collection! I assumed the books belonged to the woman's father. But why would a Moslem have books of Mayan writing? What kind of man was her father? I briefly envisioned him as a strong young black-haired man, someone I didn't want to meet.

I turned my attention back to the woman. She seemed more attractive than ever. She obviously wanted to have physical contact with me, and in a swirl of images, I saw her lying naked in front of me. Her body was gorgeous. Her only peculiarity was the amount of her black pubic hair, which lightly extended all the way up to her navel and onto her legs half-way down to the knees.

I needed to get out of here. I couldn't risk being here with the woman when her father returned. When I stood to leave, she was standing in front of me, fully clothed in her long white dress. I told her I would like to come back and see her again; I suggested I might come back tomorrow. She told me tomorrow wasn't good, and she indicated I should wait at least a week. I was unsure whether she was trying to brush me off, or if she simply wanted to wait a little longer. I hoped she wanted to see me again; I certainly wanted to see more of her.

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