A Bizarre Bazaar

The scene: An Arabian bazaar. A public gathering place.

I strolled into a large plaza. It was filled with many natives of middle eastern countries dressed in native garb. It is very hot and somewhat dusty as I strolled under an archway and moved towards the center of the plaza.

Within this bazaar there were sights and smells that were very enticing. Some vendors had only pushcarts while other vendors sold their wares from tables that were aligned in rows through the plaza area and along the sidewalks along the perimeter of the square. The sun was bright and most everyone seemed to be wearing loose fitting white or grayish robes. No one seemed to notice or pay any mind to the fact that my dress looked incongruent in contrast to all others in the square.

I was looking at various things: foodstuffs, baskets, crafty things. The behavior of all the people around me I likened to experiences I would more have attributed to that of a flea market back home. I was with my family (parents, spouse, siblings). It was some kind of family affair. I thought how wonderful it was to have the family together again. We don’t often get the chance much anymore.

Suddenly, (it seemed) I was separated from my group. I began searching for them by scanning the crowd. It was rather unexpectedly getting more crowded as time went on. The ambient noise was getting louder and louder. A group of mostly men (middle eastern in descent) were converging around me slowly. I tried to pick myself through the crowd (still looking for my family).

It was a vacation of some sorts. That’s right we were on vacation.

I started to bump into some people because the throng of folks was now so thick it was impossible not to. I started repeating a mantra of “Excuse me, please. Pardon me…”

I heard my name being called or referred to. Once, twice, a third time… I didn’t recognize the voices and I couldn’t make out the source but I was straining hard to tune my ear to try to distinguish the source through the cacophony of the crowded bazaar.

As more time passed, I began to feel and taste fear. I feared for my family and myself although I couldn’t attribute my misgivings to any real perceptible threat.

I then saw a platform with more folks of Middle Eastern descent milling about. There was a podium on the platform but it didn’t seem like anyone was using it. Because it seemed public and would pose a higher vantage point from which I could then scan the crowd for my family, I began to try to move towards the platform. I wondered what its general use was within the bazaar.

I heard my name being mentioned again… in a thick, broken English dialect.

“Yeah, he is a very funny guy… that Mr. McNierney…. You’d think he’d learn better.

I began to move closer towards this stage of some sort and the crowd seemed to part. The throng began to thin out the closer I got to the stage. I still couldn’t make out which person was talking about “Mr. McNierney” though.

Just as I was reaching the stage, I was intercepted by two large framed men. They were both wearing dark business suits that seemed very inconsistent given the native garb that all others in the plaza were attired in. They had very somber looks on their faces. Without saying a word they casually steered me to the side of the platform stage and out into even more open space.

My feeling of impending harm was rising. The fear that was rising began to manifest itself as an almost metallic taste in my mouth.

Despite the close proximity to me, I couldn’t make out much detail in either of “my guides” faces. I began to question them directly. One of the two seemed to be leading us while the other firmly had hands on me steering me in the direction that they seemed to want me to follow. I noticed that at odd times, his grip shifted from both of my shoulders to one arm and a shoulder then back to their original position. At no point did it appear they were armed but I wasn’t about to make that assumption.

With a sickening revelation, I pretty much realized they were steering me away from any vestige of public eyes to some point where I could only assume I was about to receive some bodily harm (or worse). I also realized at this point in time that between the moments when I first entered the bazaar and encountered the crowd of people and this particular point in time, I no longer had possession of my wallet. That’s how they knew what my name was I thought. Oh my goodness. My whole family’s vacation money and credit cards were in that wallet. I was fool to carry so much on my person. In addition to the fear, I now felt shame and embarrassment.

That combination of knowing I was robbed and the real fear that my situation was about to get worse, I then reacted with shouting … “Hey! Help… Someone… I’ve been robbed, please help me!”

I cried out to the man behind me “Get your hands off me! Get your hands off of me!”

I then rather instinctively attempted to kick the man behind me by stopping and swinging my right leg in a backward arc aiming (I thought) at my captor’s legs… The heel of my right foot made hard contact with something… I struck it again and again…. After three blows, I tried to spin myself around to get a better position. I then fell to the ground.

It was at that point I realized I was kicking my bed frame. I was lying on my belly on the floor of my bedroom at home. My right foot was throbbing, my heart racing… This whole sequence of events was only a dream.

---Jim