Intro… Helped by his Dream Master Cy has managed to return to a favourite dream about Ancient Egypt. (Chapter 6) Except that this time, instead of being outside in the desert near the great pyramid, Cy has ended up inside a burial chamber…
‘This must be a Pharaoh’s tomb,’ said Cy as he wandered around, picking up objects to look at them and replacing them carefully. There were little wooden statues covered with beaten gold, heavy armbands studded with glass beads and precious stones, boxes with intricate inlays, and some small model soldiers. An alabaster jar gleamed softly, the figures on the side silhouetted in the light. In one corner stood a wooden mummy case. In another was a throne-like chair with a leopard’s head on each arm and four paws for feet.
A decorated chest showed the Pharaoh with his wife. Cy stared harder. Just for the briefest flicker Cy had thought that the Pharaoh had looked a bit like his dad. He looked again at the Pharaoh’s wife. Tall ostrich feathers rose proudly from her head-dress, and immediately above was the shape of the long cross with the loop at the top. The ankh. Eternal life. The magical symbol of the life of the soul… Cy rubbed the back of his neck. He had an odd feeling growing inside … as if there was someone else close by. It must be the drawings, Cy told himself. He was surrounded by them. Scenes from everyday life, people working in the fields, hunting, fishing, and trapping birds with nets. The hieroglyphics on the wall seemed to resonate with colour. The clothes on the painted figures glistened white, their kohl-ringed eyes gazed out at him. Cy shivered. Lauren was right. He had too much imagination.
But the feeling of being watched was overpowering. Was it the sign-writing which was making him so uncomfortable? The little pictures of the birds and animals with their bright eyes. Or the larger statues, some of which had glass eyes which caused them to regard you with an eerie, lifelike look? Cy took a firm grip of his thoughts and tried to concentrate.
The prickly sensation still didn’t go away. He paused to look at some papyrus scrolls and then, on the outer rim of his hearing he heard a soft noise.
Cy froze. He hadn’t imagined that, had he? Not intentionally … but in a way he had, because nothing could exist in this dream without him thinking about it, even if only for a microsecond. Could it?
Cy lifted his head and listened. There it was again… a soft creaking noise, and then, suddenly, he was aware of a movement. He whirled round. The noise was coming from inside the wooden mummy case standing upright in the corner.