Traveller The plane from Paris through London for Stocholm was four hours late, the professional looking thing behind the checkin counter explained to me in a friendly voice, like the one you would use to a child that had just lost his mother in a freak car crash, never for a second breaking the plastered moviestar-type smile. I got my ticket back, and turned slowly in my tracks to face an empty arrival hall at Heathrow international. The time was two-thirty Ay Em and outside the rain was pouring down from a sky that was even darker than usual. It was like this all the way down to Paris she informed me in the same mock friendly voice, subliminally suggesting that i did not know squat about meteorology and she did. First an unforseen mechanical failiure had rendered one of the aircraftís two engines inoperable and then the storm had hit, almost blowing planes of the runway at Charles Du Gaulle, there was no way that anything could take of in that kind of weather which left me, effectively marooned in a sea of empty, soft, emarald chairs in the waiting hall. I sat staring at the rain falling oustide in the light of the natrium floodlights, every single drop glowing orange, like liquid fire falling into pools of blackest mercury far below my lookout point, fidgeting with a keyring, stroking it gently, feeling the smooth texture against my fingers. It was a small heart in a reddish-purplish plastic, large as a 25-pence piece and inlaid in the plastic were a storm of small metal shards that made the heart glimmer and shine as light reflected of it, a gift from the daughter of a friend. She was ten and had just discovered that boys could sometimes be more than just a complete and utter nuisance, and she had given it to me with a look and a smile that would drive boys and men alike crazy in five years time. I surrendered my position, still fidgeting with the heart, left my coat and bag by pne of the emarald green and went to seek out the only source of entertainment left: the instant coffee machine that had replaced the compulsory airport bar, where the bored and the ones afraid of flying could drink themselves senseless waiting for their flight, it was out of order. I kept walking, exploring empty halls and frozen escalators feeling like the last person on the earth. Airports arenít known for tehir diverse architecture nor their interesting interior however and soon i was back in my chair, thinking gloomy thoughts, staring at the rain and drinking hot watery coffee from a white styrofoam cup (my exploits into the darker recesses of the airport had finally revealed another and this time fully functional vending machine). Time passed slowly in the silent, air-conditioned (too cold) hall. My mind wandered, in lack of something else to occupy it, across the last week, turning darker by the minute until i reached Mariah, my girlfreind, or rather, my ex-girlfriend, and the party at which she had decided was an appropriate time for her to inform me of her intentions to transfer from the former to the latter. I could have the apartment if i wanted, she wanted the furniture, i didnít care. When she had left, I sat, head in my hands at the edge of the large double bed that occupied most of my friendís bedroom in his London city penthouse, feeling the heavens fall above me and waiting for the rush of blood to die down in my ears and my pulse to start beating normally again. That was when Annie had come to me, silently like a faerie in a long white nightgown and auburn hair let down to the small of her back, smiling that smile that could persuade me into doing anything she desired. She squeezed my hand gently and said îDonít worry MikeÖ Youíll always have meÖî and then sheíd gone. Left in my hand was the small heart, glittering in the light from the bedside lamp. I listened to my heart pound in my chest and felt the dull ache like a blunt knife twisting round and round as i thought it through over and over again, feeling utterly miserable for some time, and dimly in the distance i knew that i was asleep. The colours slowly drained out of the chairs around me, like from a dirty aquarium leaving only a pale shade of grey in its wake, into a large emarald pool on the floor, sloshing gently it grew, larger and larger and more and more solid becoming a green meadow littered by dandelions, a home for bugs, beetles and a thousand adventures in the mind of a small boy. I lay on my back in the tall, soft grass, bruised knees pointing in uneven angles towards the clear blue sky above listening to the singing, coming from somewhere by the river, silently mimicking the words and wagging my head back and forth in time with the rythm of the old seamanís chanty. I started in my chair, sitting up straight and blinking until my vision cleared, it was still dark outside and an insistant splashing on the windows told me that the rain diligently kept up the downpour. It took some time before i realized i could still hear the chanty growing susceptibly stronger by the second. My body turned, without asking my brain, to gaze towards the hallway on the other side of the room with half wonder, half suspicion. The lights were dimmed and i couldnít really remember if they had been that way when i returned from my little expedition but right now the illumination wasnít my primary concern. I could see flickering torchlight in the right hallway entering the room, the same one i had come through several hours ago, and i could discern individual voices, one alto, one bass, one that would make a pretty decent hardrock singer one that had the musical talent of a deaf horse and one that wouldnít know a melody if you tattooed it in his face with a jackhammer. The first one to enter was the deaf horse, walking in a swinging, loose, gait conductiing the others with a half-filled rum bottle and his left forefinger, head thrown back, eyes closed, completely lost in the music. He was dressed in cut-off canvas puff-pants, a large white shirt that had been white a long time ago, headcloth and a sable by his side and a wide smile covering a dirty unshaven face completed his appearance. The others followed suit, four burly sailors handling a large oak chest with the lid wide open and filled to the brim with gold, pearls and strange glittering gems, the front two carriers carrying flaming and smoking torches high above their faces and the backmost two carrying bottles very close to theirs. Though i wasnít really paying attention to them, how strange that might sound, my eyes had caught the sixth member of the small party, walking in step with the leader, flaming long red hair to the small of her back, green almost glowing eyes in a pixieish face dressed in a smarter version of the pirate theme cutting in at all the right places and walking with fluid motions that more than anything accentuated her looks. They walked on past the room, without ever looking in my general direction their song fading slowly out into nothing. I had ducked and used the back of the emarald chair closest to me as shelter and now i finally gathered enough scraps of courage together to stand up and sneak silently to the corner where the room turned into the hallway where the rowdy bunch had disappered. Carefully i snuck a peek into the hall, i could still see a distant flicker of the torches and hear the chanty, verse twenty-six, in which the sailor leaves port in search for eternal glory and riches and telling his beloved goodbye. I still canít explain why, call it curiosity if you will, a childish lust for adventure or an escape from the utter boredoom of going back to my chair and trying to go back to sleep for a few more hours, but i followed them, tentatively at first and more boldly as i realized that the people in front of me either didnít know or care if i followed their band. Most likely they didnít care, i have never been any good at sneaking, all of my childhood playmates would agree to that, and hard soles on a marble floor didnít really help in my efforts. As i got further down the hall things started happening around me, the hall grew larger and more cavernous, the ceiling losing itself in shadows and the floor got softer and softer and soon i was no longer walking on marble but on soft, damp white sand. Stalactites hung from what must have been the ceiling and the drip-drip of water mixing with an ever-breaking surf. I rounded a corner and found myself satanding at a shoreline, turqoise water glittering in the bright sunlight outside the cave. There was a ship anchored a few hundred meters out in the bay, a large merchantman flying the skull and crossbones, the flag fluttering merrily in the light breeze and a small boat traversed the distance between the beach and the ship in quick pace. A spark of red in the bow told me that the girl was one of the passengers. I didnít see them board the ship, instead i had turned, intent of finishing this little episode of my life dream or real, whatever it was with a little regret and going back to my bags and my chair and hope that i would wake up in the real world next time. The cave wasnít there anymore. I stared stupidly at the smooth stone wall for a couple of seconds before my brain jumped back on track. I pushed the wall with my palms, making sure it was for real and not some cheesy dÈcor but it didnít yield one inch. It took me a few minutes to discover the ladder, rusting and inset in the wall to the left it disappeared into the vast darkness above. Seeing no other way a grabbed a rung and began climbing up towards whatever. I dared not look down (another childhood epsiode had left me with a terrible fear of heights, especially where trees where concerned) but focused instead on the rung directly in front of my eyes. Things were changning again, it was hard to see with my limited field of vision but the edges swam almost as if two images were mixing and flowing about each other trying to get the upper hand on each other. I swallowed a couple of times and tried to focus on the wall behind the ladder, it swam too, changing between pitted rock and smooth shiny metal. In absence of better ideas i closed my eyes and climbed quickly upwards almost banging my head into the metal hatch at the top of the ladder. I opened my eyes and looked around, around me was a maze of steel pipes and cables, purpouse unknown, twisting around each other in a number of innovative ways resembling a mix between the bowels of a pan of spaghetti and a three dimensional jigsaw-puzzle, the air smelled of hot grease, metal and dry heat, above me was a hatch with a large wheel in the middle, making the whole construction look like a misplaced door to a safe of some sort. I looked around again, no one was around, and made my decision, figuring that if i was already a little bonkers i might as well go all the way. The wheel turned easily and the hatch opened on oiled hinges. The sound of clanking machinery and engines revving almost overwhelmed me as i climbed through the hatch and out into a red dusk, the smell of salt mixed with a sharp tinge of airplane gasoline was everywhere. I stood, turning in a complete circle, finding myself standing on a runway or rather a helipad of some sort, a breeze touched my face and gulls cried in the distance, my eyes stopped over a gigantic thing hanging by a dozen or so moorings above and on the other side of the pad. I had never seen a zeppelin before, not counting shaky black and white photos of the Hindenburg and stuff like that, or the Good Year blimp, but this was way beyond that. Vaguely tear shaped and probably somewhere near a thousand feet from bow to stern it hung, a chained beast looking able to break from the pathetic human bonds at any moment. Below, attached like a parasite to the balloon hung the gondola, it's windows ablaze with light and stray notes of music filtered down to me where i stood, looking dumb. A long gangway connected the gondola with the ground, people were walking along it, in pairs or small groups, all dressed in the finest of clothing, men int tuxedos or smokings and women in long wide skirts or evening dresses, all in different colours and styles. And there she was again, hair glowing fiercly in the warm evening light, long emarald skirt setting of her eyes and a hint of freckles on bare shoulders, walking with a small group of women and men upwards. I squeezed the small heart, still lodged in my hand and set of towards the gangway, intent of catching her this time and ask her what was going on, where i was and why and a couple of thousand other questions i had saved up. She turned halfway around on the gangway, her eyes distant adn then they caught mine. The world around slowed down to a crawl around me and suddenly i was lost, in warm green pools. And then the tarmac came rushing towards me, my left foot didn't keep up with the rest of my body and i threw upp my hands to break the fall i knew was coming. The heart flew, glittering through the air in a wide arc and landed somewhere in front of me with a tiny metallic tink. My hand brushed against the carpet first and then my face landed heavily between them. I smelled dust and in-grown cigarette smoke for a while before i managed to pull myself up brushing myself of in the process and wincing at a bruised knee. Something was moving at the back of my head, like a memory, but elusive, sliding away at every attempt och catching it. I brushed the blear out of my eyes and tried to remember. A small light blinked next to the flight number and destination by the gate. Final call, flight S-234353 to Stockholm. Please board at once. The dream was lost, fragments floating like debris in the back of my head and i gave up trying to piece it together. I searched in complete vain for the heart, i was certain i must have dropped it as i fell from the chair and it wasn't like it could grow legs and walk away, but the heart stayed lost, and when a stewardess came up to me and told me that the plain was waiting and would i please come now so the flight wouldn't be delayed more than it already was i gave up, handed her my boarding pass and walked the lonely road down the tunnel towards the aircraft. I was halfway down when i noticed something was sticking to the sole of my left shoe. Further inquiry reavealed it to be a small piece of coral, exquisite in detail and smelling strongly of salt. I stared for a moment as a flickering frame of memory played across my inner eye and then silently slid the still damp piece into my pocket, and continued my walk, treading softly on the carpets. I can't remember how i got on the plane, guess that's just one of those things the brain rules out as unimportant where memory is concerned, but there i was, sitting in a chair that must have been mine, stroking the piece of coral and losing touch with reality once again. I wasn't really aware of someone serving me coffee until something began dangling back and forth in front of my eyes, suspended from a thin chain. My eyes refocused on the small heart glittering in the cabin lights and i followed the chain upwards to a hand and then into green glittering eyes matching the heart in luminicense. She was dressed in a stewardess' unifrom, smart and proper, her red hair in a ponytail, lenaing over me. "I think you dropped this" she said, still smiling, and carefully laid it in the table in front of me. "You should be careful with hearts, losing one is never good. By the way, i'm Erica, nice to meet you." "Michael" I shook her soft hand and she kept looking right into my eyes. As she straightened and turned i heard her say, quietly to herself "nice to meet you again Michael" she smiled, and the smile was enigmatic, and then she slowly made her way forward in the plane.