Pilate's Wife: The Gospel According to the Eyewitness

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Day before the Nones of Martius. Tenth hour of the night. [Tuesday, March 6, c. 4:00 a.m.]

I must write this while it is still fresh in my mind.

In the beginning the dream was vague. I walked for some time along a portico. Then I saw the baths on the hill above me, and knew that I was at Baiae. The people who walked past were much like the bathers I remember: Fat old lawyers or gnarled old soldiers with their mistresses; the young fops with their unrelenting eyes; the wealthy dowagers and wealthy old homosexuals with their parasols and trains of fawning boys. A group came from a boating party, drunk and singing, the girls wearing dresses so thin they might have been naked.

I climbed stone stairs to one of the big houses that sit like immense altars on the slopes. I entered through the garden, between rows of potted shrubs. I found myself in a hallway with small bedrooms on either side. Some of the doors were open; these rooms were empty, and lit brilliantly with sunlight. The closed doors were concealed in shadows.

Despite my dread of the closed doors, I could not stop myself from approaching one of them. The door had a bronze handle, which I could see far more clearly than the dim light should have allowed. The handle was in the shape of a crocodile, with vine leaf ornaments above and below. I touched it.

Immediately I was aware, even in my dreaming state, that objects do not provide such sensations in dreams. I could feel the coldness of the metal, the fine workmanship, every roughness filed down, every detail precise. The crocodile's eyes were tiny red beads.

I know that there are dreams from which one awakens into another dream, only to imagine it a true awakening. I tried to awaken from this false awakening, by which I would prove it false.

But I could neither release the handle, nor leave the dream. This startled me with fear, and in my desire to escape I lifted the handle. Again the sensation was unlike anything in a dream: I could hear the slight clicking of the oiled parts. I felt the mechanism of the latch as it opened.

The door moved away. For a moment there was silence. Then I heard a woman murmuring. Immediately I knew that she was with a lover. I could hear her breathe, deeply and in sharp rhythm.

I looked inside. The light was like dusk, not bright as in the other rooms. A woman was on a couch, on top of a man who was hidden in shadows. Her knees were up, her torso bent forward, her small breasts free. Her skin appeared to glow. For a moment her face was too brightly colored, like a woman who has overdone her cosmetics.

And then her face became entirely real, as real as the door handle - as real as a face viewed in the full light of day. I could see the moisture on her temple; the wet ringlets of hair; the pearl of her teeth between her parted lips. A gold earring in the shape of a grape cluster swayed with the motion of her head.

She was Sperata. And although the man she was with was shrouded as before, I knew that he was L. V--. At once I shouted to her, "I warned you! Why did go you to him!"

She looked up and faced me fully. She was not Sperata. She was myself. Myself as a girl, seen as if in a silver mirror capable of disregarding time. She looked at me as though she had always possessed my soul.

I have no words for the terror of that recognition. In that moment I believed beyond doubt that I died the day the others did. The years since have been nothing more than a fraud, a shade's dream of life.

That terrible girl swayed and bent to her lover. Her breasts teased his breast. Her entire body convulsed in rhythm to a hissing word: "This. This. This." Suddenly she turned onto her back. Her lover, now atop her, was still nothing more than a dark phantom. She said no articulate word now; she only gasped as though each breath were her first and last. Her face became dark and distorted like a beast. Her eyes were as dead as beads.

I screamed and struggled from sleep. I was certain I had awakened the entire house. I waited for Florentina to burst in on me.

There was only the silence of darkness. It proceeded for what seemed an eternity. Each instant increased my fear that I still inhabited that strange world -- half dream, half real -- from which I could never escape.

At last I knew I must discover the place of my confinement. I feared it was Hades. I left my couch and went to the door. In the light of the brazier I could see that the handle was a bronze crocodile identical to the one I had dreamed, except for the bead eyes.

I was perfectly suspended between terror and curiosity, between the certainty that I was mad and the certainty that I held the reasonable explanation for my dream. Had I walked in my sleep, perhaps only within the room? Or had I left the room, and chanced upon a couple making love? Perhaps even L. V-- and Sperata?

I opened the door, not certain in which hall I would find myself, or whom I would meet.

The hall was lit with two lamps. Florentina was asleep on her cot beside the door. Sperata's cot was empty.

At once I determined that I would go quietly throughout the halls, inspecting each door latch until I found another crocodile similar to the one on my door. I was certain I would find Sperata within that room, in the company of L. V--. I did not regard the need for slippers or a shawl.

The halls were entirely silent save for the vague snoring of slaves and the spitting of the lamp wicks.

I proceeded to the back of the house, where the hall turns to left and right. Looking to the right, I saw no one outside the large bedroom, which L. V-- has taken. No doubt L. V--'s legbreakers were sleeping in the sitting room adjoining the bedroom.

I went at once to that door. The latch was fashioned with vine leaves above and below. The handle, however, was in the shape of two horse heads.

I considered that in my walking sleep I had seen this handle as a crocodile. Carefully I placed my ear to the door. I could not be certain. Perhaps I heard murmuring voices.

Very gently I tried the latch. The click was less than a cricket's chirp yet it struck me through with fear. I pressed more firmly, then with as much force as I am able. Still I could not work it.

A cold draft crept around me. I observed its source: The narrow alcove at the opposite end of that hall. It occurred to me that L. V--'s rooms open onto the terrace at the back of the house.

I slipped through the alcove and went onto the terrace.

The half moon had risen to the southeast. In that light I could see over the garden, to the olive orchard beneath it and the wooded park beyond.

I do not know how long I was there before I observed a pale motion among the olive trees. It drifted like a wandering shade, about a stade distant from me. I thought this: The prophecy of the dream was partly in error, but true enough. Sperata has gone to meet her lover in an orchard.

I watched her. In short time I could see that this apparition had neither a girl's step nor her proportions. I studied its progress, noticing a rhythm in its movement which could not be explained by any regular variation in the ground. This motion suggested a subtle skip with each step. As would appear the gait of a man with a slight limp.

So I knew that the figure wandering among these dark trees was L. V--. And that in following him, I would find Sperata.

I descended the steps into the garden, passing the small fountain. I removed my eyes from L. V-- only to glance at the steps. I did not mind that my feet were bare. I was fearful only that he would reach the park, where the oaks are thick, and I would lose him there.

I went into the orchard. The trees cast vague shadows before me. L. V-- approached the forest. I began to run, regardless of the stones and thorns under foot.

At the border of the woods L. V-- halted, as though waiting for a call or signal. He did not move.

Time passed, sufficient that I regreted not having a wrap. Still L. V-- did not move. I recalled him describing his routine at Capri, the hour he spends each day watching the sea. Yet I was certain he did not intend merely to study the oak forest.

Behind me I heard a noise like a small animal stirring. I turned. Along the second terrace there is a pergola. Within it, largely concealed by the covering of vines, I observed portions of a pale garment. Certainly whoever was there would a have a better view of me. Quickly I decided I would gain little by accusing L. V-- of staring at trees. However, if I accosted the new arrival, I would discover the entire scheme.

I ran to the steps. At this the phantom in the pergola took flight, running out onto the path and then ascending the steps to the terrace. It appeared to be Sperata, her hair pinned and held by combs.

Or perhaps it was merely a slender man.

I ran up the steps, reaching the second terrace just as this person crossed the highest terrace, running alongside the balustrade. All of this occurred in a strange silence marred only by my own breathing.

And then, knowing I would lose the race, I called out "Stop! I know you!" The sound of my voice was like a thunderclap to me.

The fugitive halted at once. I continued up the steps. Now I could see that this person was certainly a man. He turned and faced me: L. V--'s secretary.

I achieved the paved terrace behind the house and advanced on him. "Where is my girl?" I demanded.

He said very quietly, "Your girl?"

"Sperata. The girl you were to deliver to your patron."

"I don't know where your girl is." As he spoke he looked out over the orchard.

Certainly L. V-- had heard my shout. Clearly visible in the moonlight, he walked quickly toward us.

We waited for him in silence. When he reached the terrace I said to him, "Where is Sperata?"

He did not answer until he stood before me. "I have no idea what you mean." He proceeded to examine me, his eyes upon my exposed shoulders as though I were a half-naked whore in a tavern door. Only then did I become acutely aware that my sole attire was my nightdress.

I said, "Do you deny that you sent her a gift, after staring at her in our dining hall like a drooling sailor?"

"I sent her mother a gift."

"You intended to persuade her mother to make a prostitute of her."

"I have never intended to sleep with her. Tonight or any other night. Do you want to examine my rooms for evidence of her?" He looked at his secretary. "Or has the lady already done so?"

"You awakened us," the secretary told his patron. "I went out after you and found the lady here just a moment ago."

For a moment this account hung in the air, as though L. V-- himself could not understand it. Then he said to me, "Do you want to inspect my rooms?"

I shook my head, certain that when I arrived, the meeting had yet to take place. Most likely Sperata had seen me in the garden and intended to wait until I left. Certainly I would learn more by confronting her.

I told L. V-- simply, "Stay away from my girl."

I had left him when he spoke after me. "I told you I sent a gift to the mother. Florentina. I remembered that she was your girl at Baiae. She was lovely then, wasn't she? A boyish beauty. Lovely, but not as beautiful as her daughter has become."

He spoke as though in a mysterious revery. But he was only taunting me. I turned to confront him. His eyes were like moonlight and a smile flickered on his face. He added nothing to his previous taunt. I went on into the house.

I was not at all surprised to find that Sperata had returned to her cot. I got her up and awakened Florentina. I told Florrie to get a lamp and sent them both inside my room.

After closing the door I said to Sperata, "You were to meet Senator L. V-- tonight."

I could see at once that this was so. Without thinking I struck her. Her head fell to the side and I thought she would fall. But she was able to steady herself. Blood painted the corner of her mouth.

I said to Florentina, "Of all people you should know the dangers of this game." And then I turned on Sperata again: "Have you seen your mother's back. Look at it! Look at her scars! They will peel the flesh off of you!"

To say this upset me so that my arms quaked violently and my stomach turned.

When I had gathered myself, I said to Sperata, "Have you already slept with him?"

She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes. She said, "I haven't, mistress. Truly I haven't. They told me that if I would merely speak with him tonight they would give me the bracelet. The bracelet that Mama wouldn't allow me."

I could see her innocence and her fear. I told her, "The next time you so much as nod to one of L. V--'s people I will have you flogged. I promise you it will be done. Now go to bed."

When she had left I said to Florentina, "You know what these men will do to her. I cannot believe you want that."

For a moment I observed a remarkable expression in Florrie's eyes, as though we might reach one another. Or perhaps it was a flickering of the lamp. An instant later her eyes were as inscrutable as ever.

At last she said, "He's a Senator. What he wants, he'll have. Nothing I can do can prevent it. Nothing you can do, either, mistress."

I sent her out.

Sperata was not the girl in the dream. I was the girl. So I believe that the image I saw was not a memory, because one cannot observe oneself in that fashion. It was therefore an emanation from the event itself. One that has lingered like an evil shade clinging to earth these many years.

That girl was me. Who was the man?

The sun will rise in an hour. My only desire is to arrest the motion of the stars. Instead I must live in equal fear of day and sleep, and look with equal dread to the past and what is to come.

Such veridical or lucid dreaming, with extremely vivid sensory perceptions and images, is a phenomenon not only well-documented by modern researchers, but also remarked on by Aristotle. The 4th century B.C. philosopher attributed such dreams to either the perception of outside sensory experiences while asleep, or to sensory persistence, as when one stares at a light or a particular color, then looks away, yet continues to see that light or color. Most of Aristotle's successors rejected his attempt at a scientific explanation, preferring to regard the gods as the source of dreams and visions.

According to Democritus, events as well as thoughts could create emanations. Pilate's wife, whose eclectic spiritual beliefs were characteristic of her time and level of sophistication, also seems to have adopted the first-century B.C. Stoic philosopher Posidinus' notion that evil souls, muddied by sin, would cling to the earth after death, while the vaporous souls of the virtuous would ascend to the stars.

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