Then we went back to Kenza’s house for some refreshments and she left us playing in the courtyard while she went to get on with some cooking. That was our chance. Nina put a finger to her lips and led me to a staircase in one corner of the building. My heart was in my mouth in case Kenza came back and caught us as we climbed to the floor above the courtyard and crept along the tiled passageway to the door to the ancient auntie’s room. I felt a bit bad about disobeying her, but I really wanted to get some better dreams to help me sleep well. Nina knocked quietly on the door. I was excited and a bit nervous at the same time at the prospect of meeting the dreamseller. I only had a few sous left over from giving tips to the snake charmer and the juggler and the storyteller, but Nina said that should be enough to buy a good dream.
A soft voice called to us to come in and Nina pushed the door open. It was quite dark inside the room and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust after the brightness of the whitewashed walls of the courtyard. The room smelled of incense and patchouli oil, and a small tin candle lantern cast the patterns of stars on to the walls. In the corner sat the dreamseller and Nina ushered me forward to sit on a pile of soft cushions at her feet. She drew back her shawl from over her hair, which was as white as snow, and peered at me with her bright eyes. Her face was very lined and also she had tattoos on her forehead and her chin. I asked Nina about the tattoos afterwards and she told me it was an old tribal custom but it’s frowned on in Islam because altering the creation of Allah is haram, which means forbidden, so people don’t really have it done so much any more.
The old lady reminded me a bit of a bird, putting her head on one side as she watched me. Her shawl was beautiful, covered with embroidered designs that Nina says tell the stories of her tribe. She lived in the desert before she came to be nearer her family in the medina. The dreamseller spoke in French and asked me to tell her who I was and why I’d come. I told her about the bad dreams and she nodded. All the time I was talking, her eyes never left my face. It was like she was listening to my words but taking in everything else about me too, hearing the things I wasn’t saying out loud as well as the ones I was. I felt as if she was reading the secrets of my innermost soul, which was a bit disconcerting, but at the same time I sensed this was someone I could trust completely. When I’d finished telling her about my dreams and how I was too afraid to go back to sleep sometimes after them, she reached out and took my hand in hers, which was like the claw of a bird too and painted with henna in patterns and swirls like the tattoos on her face. She closed her eyes for a few moments. And then she started to talk, telling me my own story. As far as I can remember, this is what she said:
‘The first part of your journey is over. The next part is only just beginning. You are going to find a new home in a land that is strange to you at first, but it will take you into its heart and you will be safe there. There are difficult times ahead, but your own heart is filled with courage and you are stronger and braver than you know.’
She stopped for a minute and looked at me again, with her head tipped to the other side. Then she smiled a very kind smile that softened the fierceness of her face, and said, ‘When the moon shines on one hundred bowls of water, no matter where they are, each bowl is filled with moonlight. Remember that when you wake in the night. The moon that shines on you here is a reminder that love is like the moon in those bowls of water – it is everywhere. Your bad dreams come from the fear and the sadness you carry with you. It’s now time to let them go. Love and courage are stronger than those things. It’s only when you let go of fear and grief, though, that you will find the freedom to be brave and to love fully.’
Well, I thought, she could probably have guessed a lot of that from looking at me. I’m clearly a refugee from France and on my way to America like so many other people in Casablanca. But I was pleased to hear the bit about courage and freedom. And I liked the bit about the moon in the bowls of water – I’ll definitely bear that in mind when I wake up in the middle of the night and maybe it will help a bit. It’s quite reassuring to think of the moonlight shining on our old house in France as well as our new house here in Morocco.
Then she turned to Nina and said some things in Arabic that I couldn’t understand but Nina nodded and thanked her. I tried to give the dreamseller my last few sous but she shook her head and smiled broadly at me. It was then that I saw her front teeth were missing. Her face was very wrinkled and as brown as the leather cover of this notebook, but it was one of the kindest and wisest faces I’ve ever seen. She absolutely refused to take my money and then she said something rather strange. She told me that she couldn’t take money from a member of her own family. I suppose she was being extra kind because Kenza is her niece and I’m a friend of Nina’s.