Dream Interpretation

Diocles took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He sat up at the edge of the bed thinking on the dream. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time he had had this dream. A few months ago, on the night he turned eighteen, he had experienced it for the first time.

The first time he had this dream, he shook it off as a nightmare, an unpleasant gift from Morpheus, God of Dreams. But now, having experienced it again, perhaps it meant something more.

Diocles remembered the stories he heard from his parents, tutors and friends, of people having prophetic dreams, messages sent from the gods. Could this be a message from a god? If it is, what could a human sacrifice in the Heraion possibly be trying to tell me?

Diocles decided to get a drink of the wine to help him settle his mind again for sleep. He stood up and stretched. He grabbed a chiton to pull over his nude form and exited his small room. He passed through the courtyard, through the dining room and entered the kitchen. He poured a cup of the diluted wine and down in one gulp.

Flashes of his dream passed through his mind. He poured another cup and drank it more slowly as he considered what to do. I should probably tell mother about this. She is the priestess at the Heraion. Maybe she understands some deeper insight to this dream.

Diocles finished his drink. He passed back through the house to the courtyard, from which the bedrooms could be accessed. As he neared his mother’s door, he raised his hand to knock. Just about to knock, he stopped when he heard a noise from within. He heard her voice give out a small cry.

Diocles knocked on the door and called out to her. “Mother! Are you alright? May I come in?”

There was moment of silence. Then his mother said, “Yes, Diolcles. You may enter.

Diocles opened the door and stepped into his mother’s bedroom. The dark bedroom was illuminated by the silvery moonlight cast through the window. His mother was sitting up in her bed. She was still in the peplos she wore before, with sheets pulled around her waist. She had let her hair down and it cascaded down over her shoulders, falling to the middle of her back. She smiled sweetly at Diocles, but the movement caused the moisture on her cheeks and in her eyes to shine in the moonolight.

Diocles realized she and been crying. His own questions about his dream were forgotten as he quickly moved forward to try to comfort her.

“Mother, what is wrong? Have you been weeping?” he said as he sat on the edge of her bed, lifting his knee to turn towards her. He reached out to hold her hand.

“Oh, Diocles! My sweet boy! I am sorry that my crying woke you. I have been overwhelmed at how fine a young man you have grown into, and I am going to miss your presence and help. I knew this day would come eventually, but now that it is here, I find that I cannot hold back my tears of sadness at losing you, and my worry for your well-being and mine.” She smiled in an embarrassed sort of way and started to wipe her cheeks with her free hand.

“Mother, I knew you were more upset than you were letting on about my leaving you and the prospect on running things on your own. As for waking me, do not fret! I did not hear your cries until I was at your door. I came to speak to you about a dream I had.”

“Well, I am glad I didn’t wake you. Please come tell me of this dream.”

Diocles related the dream he had. He spoke of the voice he heard and finding himself at the temple. He described the dark temple and how the voice seemed to be hers, yet coming from the statue of Hera. He described the scene before the altar, with naked woman and the human sacrifice prepared at the altar. He described the final moments with his inability to move and the fear he felt for the victim. He also described how he had had this dream before on this birthday.

Throughout his description, his mother had gasped and squeezed his hand tighter as the story had gotten more intense. But by the end, she had fallen silent, eyes downcast, shining with fresh tears. Diocles didn’t notice this change in his mother as he had been first closing his eyes to recall the dream, and then looking down at his feet, fearing his mother would think he was a silly boy having a silly nightmare.

When he finished his story and looked up at her, he was surprised to see her crying again. “Mother, was the dream too much for you?”

“No, Diocles, it was not the dream that has upset me…or not the dream, but what I know it represents. I was crying earlier not only for the sadness of losing you, but because of the guilt I felt in keeping something important from you. I know it is now time to reveal a secret to you. A secret your father and I have kept from you your whole life.”

“Diocles, your dream was at the temple because the temple can represent our inner most thoughts and secrets, in this case my inner thoughts. Though you did not see her face, I must have been the priestess taking the final moments to reveal a secret that could change everything about the comfort of home you have known your whole life, a comfort represented in the form of your father, the man tied to the altar.” Antheia paused. Her breathing and heart had quickened as she fought back tears. She needed a moment to collect herself before telling Diocles the truth.

Diocles had been stunned by her speech. The dread he had felt in the dream had returned as he listened to his mother. The hairs on his arms in neck had stood up again. His heart was pumping hard again. When she paused, seeing her try to not cry, he felt his own eyes begin to water. He squeezed her hand tightly, looked her in the eyes and encouraged her to continue, “Mother, please tell me.”

Antheia felt her son’s strength flow through his hand and his gaze to give her the final courage to do what she knew had to be done, the promise she had made but not yet fulfilled. She looked back in Diocles’ eyes and spoke in a trembling voice, “Diocles, you are not my son. I did not give birth to you!”

Antheia could no longer hold the tears back and gave a great sob as she saw the confusion in her son’s…no, Diocles’ face.

Diocles was trying to comprehend what was happening. A thousand questions seemed to fly through his mind at once, and yet it seemed as though he could not think of a single thing to say or do. So, we sat there staring blankly at his mother…or who?

Antheia had watched the waves of emotion and confusion wash over his face. When Diocles had not said anything, she had managed to calm herself down to tell her story.