The sleeping mind that Benji approaches is currently a relatively serene one. The ship begins to rock, close to the shores; it's the Mediterranean, Turkey, an old place but it doesn't look as old as it does in the 2000s. The buildings are comparatively quite new, as 14th-century Anatolia comes into focus. The Ottoman Empire is alive and kicking, but in its early stages. It has begun to flourish, but has not completely extended its reach into neighboring countries.
The boat hits the shore with a thump. The child begins to disintegrate--not in any real alarming way, but in the way that dreams segue on, sometimes more abruptly than is entirely comfortable for some minds. People are shouting, in the city on the shore. It is dusk. Something is on fire. They are singing, now, too, carrying torches down from the mountains (there are no mountains in this part of Anatolia, but Kurdistan and the coast have begun to blend in memory), toward a roaring, massive, fire. There are men and women, dressed in the heavy silk and damask attire appropriate to their stations: women wear tunic-dresses over trousers. They are not veiled, because they aren't Turkish, and those aren't their customs just yet.
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The boat hits the shore with a thump. The child begins to disintegrate--not in any real alarming way, but in the way that dreams segue on, sometimes more abruptly than is entirely comfortable for some minds. People are shouting, in the city on the shore. It is dusk. Something is on fire. They are singing, now, too, carrying torches down from the mountains (there are no mountains in this part of Anatolia, but Kurdistan and the coast have begun to blend in memory), toward a roaring, massive, fire. There are men and women, dressed in the heavy silk and damask attire appropriate to their stations: women wear tunic-dresses over trousers. They are not veiled, because they aren't Turkish, and those aren't their customs just yet.
It's Newroz. That means there's a party.