I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
Chris Larabee's eyes snapped open suddenly as he struggled in the soft darkness. He didn't know if he was fighting to wake up or to stay in the surreal universe he moved in. Sitting up abruptly, he thrust the sheets he had twisted around his legs aside to slide in a tangled pile beside the bed.
"Shit, not again..."
In the certain knowledge that there would be no rest for him tonight, he swung his feet to the floor and stood unsteadily beside the open window of the small room. There was a slight stirring of air that cooled his naked body and, as his breathing slowed, he calmed enough to realize that what he had thought he was experiencing in such exquisitely vague detail wasn't real. The sense of loss was overpowering.
What the hell was happening to him?
With his hands shaking slightly, he managed to slip on a pair of cotton drawstring pants so that he could walk down the hall to the bathroom for the glass of water he needed desperately. His throat ached. He didn't know if he was simply thirsty, dehydrated from the long plane trip, or if he had really been moaning aloud in the aftermath of the loss of... of what?
"I must be goin' crazy..."
Chris ran both hands through his hair, then cinched the corded waist of the loose pants. There was enough moonlight from the window to faintly illuminate the room as he moved to the door. He didn't want to turn on any lights and wake his host.
He shook his head slightly in amusement at the label he had given to Ali Azariah. Was he a guest in Ali's home or a prisoner?
Either way, he was going to take a piss and get a drink of water. Ali and his companions and this whole Arabian Nights charade be dammed to hell.
The door was unlocked and swung open onto the empty corridor. He padded silently down the hallway to the bathroom he'd briefly noted earlier when he was shown to his room. The tiles felt cool on his bare feet as he closed the door behind him.
Not more than five minutes later, after taking care of both his needs, Chris flicked the light off and moved back down the hallway towards his room. The illuminated dial of the watch he had glanced at earlier declared the time as 3:27 a.m. Maybe he could doze a bit before morning.
Chris froze as he realized that he wasn't alone in the corridor. The shape that he had assumed was a shadow moved away from the wall and resolved into a recognizable form. A woman. The woman. From his dreams.
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire...
She moved towards him, gesturing to the door of his room then lightly touching the index finger of her right hand to her lips indicating the need for stealth. Chris allowed her to enter the bedroom ahead of him and was startled when she pushed the door closed behind them.
He was certainly not a diplomat or an expert on Eastern customs, but he had roomed with Ali Azariah for two years in college and he knew that women in Ali's country did not routinely roam around at night and enter the bedrooms of foreign men.
Before he could ask for an explanation of her unorthodox behavior, she moved towards him and he noted that she was wearing little more than he was...the dark silk of her hair was loose and lay in waves across her shoulders and the thin garment she was wrapped in. She stepped closer to him and he was silenced by an upward glance from her almond eyes.
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this...
Chris's body was responding to her presence even before she loosed the clothing that barely covered her form, shrugging it from her shoulders, letting it slide past her full breasts to her waist where the filmy material paused a moment before falling to the floor.
He didn't even think of stopping her when she reached for the drawstring of his trousers and untied it before sliding both her hands around his waist and pushing the thin cotton past his hips and taut buttocks, over his hardness and out of their way. Her presence now seemed both real and natural and simultaneously a continuation of the dream he had been repeatedly lost in.
They were drawn together in response to an ancient force. Chris bent his head as she tilted her face to him and their lips met and melded.
The lightning that flashed outside the window across the bare desert illuminated their bodies as they melted against one another. When the low growl of thunder sounded moments later, Chris had lifted her up, away from the door, and laid her on the bed.
If anyone had been watching from the dark corners of the room, the second and third flares of lightning would have revealed the two moving as one, joined in a primitive dance of desire.
Rain began to fall across the dry land, large drops thudding in an assault against the sand, absorbed hungrily by the earth as the two lovers fed just as hungrily, each from the other's body and entwined limbs.
This way she moves with the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothing is as it seems...
The intense pleasure took him so forcefully that he was only vaguely aware of the continued movements of the woman beneath him as she extended the sensations he felt beyond belief. When it was over for both of them, he had nothing left... no thoughts, no consciousness of his surroundings, nothing. He slept.
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand...
"Chris? Wake up, please..."
Ali shook his friend's shoulder gently again. There was something he wanted to share with the man who had accepted him at a time in his life when he felt very alone in a strange country.
Chris finally responded to Ali's touch and his voice. He rolled over and opened his eyes, surprised to see that it was morning and that Ali was smiling down at him as though they were back at school and Chris had slept through the jarring of the alarm for his first class... again.
"What..."
Ali gestured towards the window and then moved over to look out once again in pleasure. Chris managed to sit up, then stand and move beside Ali to see what he was smiling at. His jaw dropped.
Beyond the courtyard walls, where there had been nothing but the monotone rusty brown of sand and stone stretching toward the bluish haze of the low mountains in the distance, there were now random patches of green vegetation and brilliant color. Flowers.
Ali laughed in delight and explained to Chris that the unusual onslaught of the storm during the night had caused the sudden and almost unheard of appearance of the desert gardens... seeds that had been dormant for years brought to life in one miracle begat by another... water in a land with practically none.
Chris returned Ali's smile as the man told him that this was obviously a good omen for the meeting that Chris had convinced him to attend. With his father's death, he had stepped into a position of power and influence. His intelligence, education and acceptance of his country's need to modernize were assured to take him even further.
With a suddenness that left him dizzy, Chris recalled the events of the night before after he had left Ali half-angry and thoroughly confused and uncomfortable. Now he wondered how he could have thought that Ali's behavior was somehow threatening.
He had been exhausted when the mysterious request for the trip to see Ali had been hand delivered to him by none other than Judge Travis. Chris had been asked to use his influence with Ali from their time together. The Judge had sworn that he didn't know any more than Chris did...just that the request had come from a 'high government source'.
Still reeling from the effects of too many sleepless nights during the last cases Denver's ATF Team Seven had worked... successfully ...and the unsettling dreams that had plagued him even here... Chris was torn between telling Ali what had happened and keeping it to himself lest Ali assume that he had lost his mind.
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of her love.
Chris finally did tell Ali after they had eaten a light meal in deference to Chris's fatigue and jet lag and lingered in the sunny courtyard over glasses of iced juice alternated with small cups of very strong coffee. Ali's reaction was not what Chris expected. Not only did Ali believe him without question and not think he had completely lost his mind, he related the Muslim belief of the beautiful woman who was thought to represent comfort, peace, contentment and acceptance of life's twists and turns... even tragedies.
In Ali's opinion and belief Chris had been 'blessed' by Allah. Since Chris was a warrior in the sense of his country's religion, Allah had honored him even before death with a visit from a houri as a reward now and encouragement for his continued strength.
Even stranger was the addendum to the letter that Ali had received notifying him that Chris had requested entrance into the country on a special visa. The letter was typed on formal paper with an official seal but at the very bottom there were a few lines of written Arabic.
Ali had wondered why someone had written the sentences on the form since they had nothing to do with the official nature of the missive. At Chris's request, he translated:
"It has been a long time. And I have been looking for both myself and my loved one. My life is for you. And no one other than you."
Ali had meetings to attend and both men felt that Chris still needed some time for his body... and mind... to adjust to the surroundings. And in light of what Ali believed was Chris's great good fortune, he urged him to stay with him for a day or two more than he had originally planned before he returned to the fray of the war against guns on the streets of the large American city.
Chris remained slouched comfortably in his chair for a long time after Ali had left to prepare for his meeting. He knew that he could ask for anything he wanted from the numerous servants that he could sense coming and going behind him occasionally across the covered section of the patio. The kitchen area must be close as he could smell roasting meat and some kind of exotic spices. Soft voices spoke instructions in Arabic and were answered in kind.
For the first time in more than six months, he felt relaxed. There was another emotion he was unused to... hope. Chris didn't know how much of Ali's beliefs he was willing to embrace but first the dreams then what he was convinced was the reality of the woman. Ali had called her a houri, a mythical maiden sent from God, had seemed to give him true comfort in a way that no one had been able to since he had lost Sarah and Adam.
Chris didn't know how long he would remain here in the quiet and peace of the estate carved out of the vast expanse of desert fed by one of the rare sources of water. The land had been fought for by all of Ali's family and hard won. This was a place worth having.
He had decided that he would never speak of the series of dreams that had culminated in the events of last night. Not after hearing Ali's explanation of what he felt was Chris's great good fortune and a sign for him to continue in the path he had chosen. Perhaps with the chance of a companion to share his life with him.
Chris took another drink of the cool, exotic juice as he gazed out over the desert with it's rare patches of color. Ali had said the grass and flowers would only last through the day but should be enjoyed as the glorious gift they were, no matter how brief the duration of their beauty.
Chris felt a deep sense of peace fall over him for the first time in over six years. And with the peace, came hope.
THE END