Today, I had a dream about Julija.
Small and large city-states; multiple units, each consisting of a small and dominant one. The archaic written narration said, slightly paraphrased, “The tributes grew smaller and smaller, and eventually ceased, as the ruler of a certain dominant city had failed to respond to disobedience.” The woman rulers dressed in byzantine-like clothing with big ear-rings were standing together, holding each other, as if posing for a picture. Julija, youthful and energetic, was looking at the tall woman on her right; she was showing her teeth, smiling. It was clear to me she liked her. The Buried One was on Julija’s left – smaller, and almost invisible; I couldn’t see her properly. Julija was smiling at the big city ruler who had a confident expression and was looking straight ahead. It’s as though my mind tried to cut the Buried One out of the picture completely. Her face was not visible. She was almost like a ghost in that living picture – small, barely visible. Faceless. But she was a ruler as well.
It wasn’t just the three of them, though; there were more of them, but I only focused on Julija, her expression, the tall one, and the Buried One. They were all holding each other, but the Buried One was a little jealous because Julija was so visibly charmed by that tall woman. Yet I also felt that it was nothing to be upset about.
Hands touching backs. They were supposed to be like that. The scene was both warm and ceremonial. When I was looking at that living picture, Julija’s and the tall ruler’s face and body were clearly visible, yet the Buried One’s whole head was oddly obscured by white light. I was unsettled because she was smiling and admiring her so obviously, but I let it pass. It felt like a celebration of an important event that had recently passed. I felt that they were all equal. They were standing there as equals.
No trace of weaponry or militaries was present in that dream. It was just them, the woman rulers and city-states. No guards.
Julija was looking at the tall ruler from under her brows, smiling affectionately.
It’s odd because Julija demonstrated no aggression towards me and was surprisingly amicable and calm, though retaining her characteristic bluntness. I was under impression she preferred the western feudal hierarchies and relations, yet she looked so natural wearing those summer clothes and heavy jewelry. During that ceremony, in the building that felt like a temple and not a fortress, Julija demanded nothing from me. She did not single me out and call me a deceiver. Not only she tolerated my existence; she was content. More than content.
The fact that I was graced by a dream that showed me Julija in genuinely joyful spirits and being so kind to me should be a cause for celebration.
The Buried One wasn’t disgusted by her peers in that dream; she felt comfortable in their presence. Their touch did not bring her discomfort.