The dream is more vivid this time, to the point where I’m wary of even calling it a dream. I’ve never had a dream where I can feel a slight breeze ruffling my hair, hear birds calling to each other or smell the faint aroma of salt on the air.
Instead of being in a tent, I find myself in a thickly forested area of trees with the sound of the ocean nearby. I hear men’s voices shouting barely fifty metres to my right, so I slowly make my way towards it.
I pass underneath a sunny opening in the trees, and the flash of a bright purple colour makes me hesitate for a second before I backtrack back into the sunlight.
Oh. My. Gosh. I’m in my pajamas! I slow my freak-out mode a little, realizing that this is my dream so it really doesn’t matter what I’m dressed in...although, this doesn’t feel like a dream at all, so I cross my arms over my chest with uncertainty.
I continue on towards the shouts of people, which grow louder the closer I get. The ground beneath my feet feels softer, and begins to change from a dark, mossy soil to a fine, beachy sand.
The tree trunks ahead of me thin out, and through the spaces in the leaves I can see a long stretch of sand with crystal clear blue waves breaking on a shore. Not only that, but there is a large ship drifting just offshore and smaller boats have been brought up onto the beach, carrying small loads of food and shelter.
A man leads a large group of men milling around the beach and this time I recognize him immediately. You don’t write a five hundred word essay on a guy for a History assessment without becoming more intimate with him than you EVER want to be.
This could be none other than Christopher Columbus, whom I recognize from a painting of him I included in my essay project.
I stepped out of the tree line, readying myself to tell all theses old long-ago dead guys exactly whose dream they are invading when I suddenly remember I am wearing what I went to bed in.
Great...just perfect! I am going to have to be content with watching for now, considering I’m still not sure how much of a dream this is.
I walk back into the trees, glad that none of the men have noticed me. I shrink further into the shadows, worried about being noticed when I see a very familiar pair of broad shoulders unloading the boats along with the other men.
They aren’t covered by a white shirt like earlier today but rather an overrobe under armour which is topped off with breaches, a cloak and boots, all of which were fashionable during Christopher Columbus’ time.
I’m a 110% certain though that the man pulling a crate out of one of the boats is not a 15th century sailor, but rather the ever charming Aidan.
My eyes just about pop out of my head at the sight of him, and my mouth goes into the shape of an over exaggerated “O” open at the shock of it all. Then something even creepier happens....He stops what he’s doing, almost as if he can sense my recognition of him and then turns around and stares STRAIGHT at me.
He begins to march towards me, with a look so deadly it could wilt flowers. I do the only logical thing any normal person would do if they had a psychotic looking guy making his way speedily towards them....
I turn around and begin to high tail it out of there as fast as my legs can carry me.