A Timeline Jump to an Ancient Middle Eastern Market

I made it back from another jump.

In my dreams, I was suddenly transported to a bustling market. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices, cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the pungent stench of animal hides and manure.

I was surrounded by people speaking an unfamiliar tongue. I seemed to be somewhere in the Middle East in ancient times.

My senses were overwhelmed as I wove through the throngs. The ground beneath my bare feet was uneven and gritty, with sharp stones and debris. I was wearing a long, dark blue robe that, fortunately, blended with those around me.

Children darted here and there, kicking up clouds of red dust. Goats bleated, horns blew. The sound of distant drumming carried through the air.

Women in flowing skirts of red, green, and gold swirled around me. Their hands were intricately adorned with beaded jewelry. Their eyes, lined with black kohl, darted over the goods for sale and never looked my way.

The merchants' stalls were lined with colorful fabrics and metal trinkets. Towering piles of exotic fruits and shiny pottery filled the spaces in between.

The men were both young and old, but all their faces were weathered from the sun. They, too, wore vibrant, flowing garments of various patterns and colours. Their hands gestured wildly as they touted their goods.

My attention was drawn to a particular stall adorned with an array of fragrant spices. I reached out to touch a colorful glass jar. Suddenly, the merchant appeared before me. A man with a full red-brown beard and inquisitive eyes.

"Nothing is impossible," I said, marvelling as I took in my surroundings.

He nodded as if he understood me. I wondered if he would find me strange, out of place.

"Here I am, exploring a strange Timeline," I added.

I began to wonder how I would pay for anything. How I would survive in such a strange place.

And just like that, my journey ended as I zoomed back at high speed through a long tunnel. A sudden frequency shift. I was back in my own Timeline, lying in my bed. My heart was racing with the particular mixture of exhileration and terror that has now become familiar to me.

And then I remembered. The lines I had written in my book, A Map of Secret Rivers, How to Navigate Timelines.

‘Consider how we would prefer to be dressed if we found ourselves in a marketplace in ancient Egypt.’ I’d written.

A prediction or a self-fulling prophecy? Who knows. All I could do was laugh. I’m still laughing. And I’m very, very grateful to be back.

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Pippa Oona, reporting from the frontlines of consciousness. Over and out.