me about it.”
Julian’s voice took on a low steady rhythm as he tried to recount his dream. I listened intently, not interrupting. It was important, I told myself, that he gets it all off his chest.
“Can you imagine a large public square? There is a huge bonfire, and there are lots of people around, but there is a mood of fear. This is not a celebration; rather the people don’t seem to want to be there.”
Julian gulped his scotch before continuing.
“The language is foreign, Spanish or Portuguese sounding. Some people are just staring at the bonfire; others are huddled together talking quietly. I do not understand what they are saying. Then I turn to see what everyone is looking at and I see a man dressed in a brown soutane.”
“In a what?” I regretted the interruption as soon as I had blurted it out.
“A cassock, or in this case more like a monk’s type of habit. You know! A soutane!”
I didn’t know, but I indicated that he should continue with his story.
“This man looked like evil personified. He had an ugly leer on his face and his eyes appeared to be scanning the crowd looking for a reaction, trying to make eye contact, but no one would look at him directly. He seemed to command the crowd. Then he looked straight at ME. I am ashamed to say that I too looked away. He started to scream directly at me, I really felt as if I was the focal point of his abuse and I felt afraid. I did not understand what he said, but I know he did not mean well. Then I looked towards the fire.”
Julian’s eyes had flicked up to mine transfixing me with a steady gaze.
“Michael. It was horrible. They were burning a person! They were burning another human being on the fire!”
Before I could say anything, Julian had broken eye contact with me and turned to pace the room, continuing with his story.
“I started to scream. In my dream I mean. I felt that I knew who the man on the fire was. He was linked to me somehow. I could see the man writhing in the flames, but he made no sound. I was the one screaming!”
Julian had reached the end of the room and then spun around abruptly.
“This is important Michael, in my dream I knew this person. It is just that I cannot remember who he was now! I was asking the people to stop, to free the man. I was crying and then I ran forward to the fire and the ugly man reached into the fire and pulled out a burning brand and struck me here.”
Julian lifted his hand to the side of his head.
“I probably lost consciousness because I can’t remember anything else.”
I waited for more.
Julian just shrugged, “Then I woke up.” He sat down heavily in the chair.
“For Christ’s sake Julian! You dragged me over here to tell me that!” It had never been like Julian to make a mountain out of a molehill. I had expected much worse. I was more than a little annoyed as I had cancelled a dinner engagement with a particularly attractive lady to see Julian that night.
“So, what! It was an ordinary nightmare, nothing special. I’ve had even more horrible dreams, believe me. Just forget it! Bloody hell!”
Julian did not react at first, and then he stood up and came towards me.
“Wait, Michael! Look! Let me show you something.”
Julian bowed his head and pulled apart the black shiny hair on the side of his head. Through the parted hair, I could glimpse his scalp and could make out a dark patch, a birthmark. It was the size of a child’s palm and was pinkish-brown in colour.
“He hit me right here, Michael! Exactly here! I felt the unbearable heat on the side of my head; I could even smell my skin and hair burning!”
I looked down again at Julian’s birthmark. In a strange way, it did look a bit like a burn mark. This was silly I told myself. Julian was surely pulling my leg?
I straightened up and told Julian in no uncertain terms that I felt he was over reacting;
“So, what? You discover this birthmark when you are 23 years old and suddenly you wonder how it got there. It starts to bother you and you start to brood over it. Your subconscious mind takes over and you have some stupid dream!”
I was rather harsh, partly because I felt making light of his fears would help dismiss them, and partly because (and this was probably the real reason), I was still more than a little annoyed with this childish and unusual outburst. For Julian, it was totally out of character. I did not really know how to react, so I finished cruelly with:
“Forget about it! Just be thankful it’s not on your face.”
Julian looked at me strangely; I don’t think he had been listening to a word I said.
“Why should it be on my face? He didn’t strike me in the face, did he?”
I was dumbstruck, and not for the first time suspected Julian was somehow taking me for a fool. Was he really serious? I countered:
“Who? What are you talking about, for God’s sake!” my voice seemed to raise several octaves. Julian answered calmly; seemingly oblivious to the discomfort I was in and with a deadly serious undertone in his voice like a preacher verbally underlining the important part of his sermon for a slow and backward congregation he told me:
“Michael, the problem is, I did not find this birthmark until after my nightmares. I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t stop myself checking my head after my dream. If I had found nothing I would have laughed it off. I probably would never have told you, but I did find it! It does look a bit like a burn mark, does it not?”
Suddenly, I felt very sorry for Julian. He had apparently been rather unnerved by this whole episode, and I hadn’t helped him in the slightest. I believed his story to be nothing more than a delirium. Impulsively I had reached out and gripped his shoulders, gently shaking him, in symbolic gesture of solidarity.
“Julian, you scare me! You cannot seriously believe what you are saying, I’m sure. Look. Just relax. What you need is a good rest. Take some time off. Go abroad! Florida or the Bahamas are nice at this time of the year.”
I needed a more instant solution and added, “But for now, let’s go to the club and chill out! I would stay off the booze for a bit though if I was you”. I nodded in the direction of the empty whiskey tumblers.
We spent the rest of the evening socialising at the club with friends and he didn’t mention his dream again. Julian looked his normal self and even cracked a few jokes. Whatever had been weighing on his mind appeared to have vanished. By the end of the evening, having ignored my own warning on the liquor, the entire episode had slipped from my mind.
Trying to return to sleep now was impossible. The confounded bird had decided to rhythmically hoot somewhere outside my window. By re-running the conversation with Julian in my head I felt rather strange but was confident that he would attempt to contact me soon. I planned to see Pamela in the morning and tell her …what? She would think I was mad, or worse, that Julian was! Then again, I mused, maybe she may know about his nightmare already! Had this happened before I wondered? With these thoughts in my head, I made a mental note to tread carefully. Eventually I fell into a troubled sleep until morning.
It was the shrill of the telephone that woke me. I knew instinctively that it was Julian, which proved to be right on the button. Julian was brief and very insistent. He begged me to not ask any questions, and not to tell his mother anything other than to cover for his disappearance. He seemed to know that she would be enquiring about him. He also added that he would be back soon and promised to explain everything to me on his return. Then, as abruptly as he had called, he hung up. I checked