Bija: Escape from Darkness

Amara’s Dream

“All things must change, though nothing is ever lost.”

~ from The Story of Origins, the memories of Amara.

I, Amara Absontia, have been waking fitfully for seven mornings from the same, recurring dream. When I awoke this morning, it was different, though the dream itself was the same. This morning before I awoke, I dreamed I was walking along an unfamiliar creek in a forest of trees with which I am not familiar. I was watching starlings, swarms and swarms of starlings. As I kept walking, I came upon a young woman sitting, looking across to the other side of the stream at an embankment. The young woman acted as though she did not see me or even sense my presence. She was weeping and repeating, “Chief Wi-Bi, Chief Wi-Bi,” as she was rocking back and forth. She was looking at a particular rock formation which, upon closer viewing, I saw to be the figure of a man seated cross-legged, carved into the

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rock of the hillside. The face of the man was eerily familiar to me, for it was that of the man to whom I am betrothed, my beloved, Wijona Bija.

In this dream, I floated to the other side of the stream. The moment I alit on the land at the base of the stone figure I was myself, as I am now, but older than I am now and in a

different time and place. Right before me was the Chief Wi-Bi who was no longer the carved figure but the flesh and blood young man, Wijona Bija. Wi-Bi, I came to understand in my dream, was the abbreviated version of his name: Wi being the first two letters of his first name, Wijona, and Bi being the first two letters of his last name, Bija. This had evidently become his nickname. We were both older and married to one another. He was crouched down, appearing to be inspecting a communal or tribal member’s storage baskets and earthenware storage jars for amounts of grains and honey. I knew he was doing this even without any explanation. I knew and understood everything that was occurring in the dream as though I had actually been living in that time and place.

Wijona’s brows were furrowed and he looked concerned. The time of year was probably late autumn or early winter, since everyone had draped over their shoulders very thick, black, furry hides of some kind of animal which they wore as robes. Our village or community was nestled in a strange forest of trees and plants I am unfamiliar with on Atlantis. There were deciduous trees as well as broad-leafed evergreens.

There were pine and fir evergreen trees which I am familiar with from the mountains of Atlantis. Wijona’s raven black hair was done in many pony

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Bija Escape from Darkness

tails, caught up with twined leather straps and feathers of red, white and black. This was a strange hairdo, since on Atlantis, men’s hair was usually short and straight, evenly trimmed to the chin or shoulders and with bangs, while women’s was long, one length and neatly trimmed, usually shoulder-length or longer, and with bangs as well.

Sometimes people of both sexes would do their hair in a severe, upswept knot at the back of the head, or in a single pony-tail that hung down the back. Strange though it was, the new hairdo of Wojona’s was attractive to me. It was unlike any other hairdo in the village and distinguished him as the Chief. I adored him, as I do even now on Atlantis.

In my dream, Wijona is the chief and my husband, and was greatly concerned over the shortage of food supplies for winter. The swarms of starlings readying for migration were a sign of soon encroaching winter. Wijona arose and went to the central underground supply storage located beneath a mound of earth that was entered on the side at almost ground level. Two steps led up to the entrance doorway. I followed him down the stairs inside.

It was huge inside, and filled with earthen, lidded jars of honey and dried meats, as well as woven baskets of grains, seeds, dried berries and nuts. Wijona appeared to be checking amounts of food against the number of people and length of time the food would be needed. We were down there for some time when I decided to go back up.

For some puzzling reason, the dream always ends here. When I awoke this time, something happened that had never happened before upon opening my eyes from this dream. I

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did not know where I was or even who I was. I was extremely disoriented and when I looked around my bedroom, I did not recognize it.

After a few minutes, I finally gained my composure and my memory. I got up and stepped out onto my private

veranda overlooking The Bay of Tranquility on the outskirts of The Sacred City. It was still in the wee hours of the early morning, and the crescent moon grinned down at me and two stars, one of them Venus, winked reassuringly. An unease remained from my disturbing awakening. It felt as though I was actually there, in that strange place where our life was so stark and nearly primitive. I probably woke up too suddenly, causing my spirit to have a moment of forgetfulness.

This was more than a dream. Though I had awakened in Atlantis in mid-summer, the cool ocean breeze causing me to shiver and return to snuggle in my muslin and down-filled mattress and bedding, I felt I had been projected somewhere else in time. This dream had feelings, emotions, visions, sensations, sounds and smells and most eerily of all, a past that was understood.

These sensations could only be attributed to reality. I could actually feel, smell, hear and taste the moments, feel the air and the chill dampness of the mist that settled in our hair and dripped from the tips of leaves onto our heads and faces. I could smell the musky odor of the damp fur around our shoulders. I heard the voices of the people, the people of our village, and saw their individual faces, faces that were familiar in the dream, but were strange upon awaking. I felt the feelings as though I was actually there, physically, living that moment which my soul obviously understood.

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This dream haunts me, for I feel that something is about to happen, but I never find out what. There is also something in the dream, it seems, which I am about to tell Wijona;

something of great importance about which I am very happy. It feels as though I am about to tell him that I am pregnant with our first child. Yet, at the same time, there is something else, something that is on the verge of happening; something that feels ominous but which I never stay asleep long enough to discover.

What could it mean, this recurring dream which haunts my waking hours with pervasive memories of a place I have never been before, in a time which seems to be the future but so strange?

I am Amara Absontia. I am sixteen years old and I live in the Sacred City of Atlantis. I am the daughter and only child of Adonia Absontia and Sempione Absontia. My father is a diplomat to other lands which I have not seen myself, but have heard of from him. Winona Bija was six years old when I was born and we have known each other since then. We are promised to each other, that is, we know that one day we will be married, though nothing has been officially proclaimed, nor has there been an official betrothal. To me, though, it is firm enough and we are, for all intents and purposes, betrothed.

My father, Adonia, and Wijona’s father, Soshone Bija, grew up together near the Bay of Tranquility. When they grew into manhood, they also became diplomats of the Court, traveling on peace-keeping missions to other lands and nations. Our lives always flowed with a continuity, peaceful save for the political grumblings and

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complaints that father comes home with at times, so I do not understand where this recurring dream is coming from, nor do I fathom, as yet, its meaning. It is still very real, very pervasive and disturbing. I do hope that it will run its course and leave me to my life of normalcy.

My father has been worried of late concerning a matter in the Temple. He and Soshone have been consulting frequently with Ravena, a Seer of the Temple, and they seem to be planning something which they will not yet disclose to either Wijona or myself. They do, however, confide in our mothers, which is only natural, I suppose. I do get so curious and father knows of my interests in foreign societies which he visits. Lately, though, he has been deliberately avoiding me, actually forcing himself not to be in my presence for very long. He is afraid that with me, he may actually concede.

Father and I have always been close and his aloofness toward me is disquieting. Perhaps I sense something beyond the obvious in all of this, something odd and foreboding, but that seems too pessimistic.

Ravena tells us to listen to our dreams. He says that dreams are very important and are trying to convey a message. He takes great stock in his dreams and those

of his friends and loved ones. Should I go to Ravena and hope that he can help me interpret this recurring dream of mine? I think not. For now, I am content writing this in my journal to wait for the right time to come. Who knows? Maybe it will be years before I find an answer, if there is even one to be found.

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