The Year is 23 AD August 17 two weeks before Caligula's 12 Birthdate
Caligula, a young boy of eleven, closed his eyes as he slept, his chest rising and falling in a measured rhythm...
And then, he dreamed..
In this state of unreality, he found himself in a plain, gray world.
Monochromatic.
It's been his world as far as he can remember, even in reality—after waking up from an intense fever years ago. He remembered bawling his eyes out, trying to shake it off in his eyes.
It's uncomfortable.
But he learned to accept it as his new reality—slowly and overtime. He learned to adapt. Because he realized that, he was powerless to fight such an enigma.
It's a force of nature.
And even if he could fight it, he wouldn't know how.
He's only a kid.
Incapable of anything.
Caligula closed his eyes and readied himself for the intrusion of the bright light coming from the sun, a habit he developed to protect his defective vision.
As he shut his eyes, his other senses seemed to be heightened.
The wind blows.
It's a familiar sensation.. he can almost feel the aestas heat gently caressing his skin, carrying the scent of dry earth into his nose.
And, somehow, someway, he knew that it was morning.
Hora secunda before solis ortus...
He opened his eyes, squinting at the scene before him. Caligula expected the brilliance of the sun to assault his eyes but...contrary to what he believed...everything seemed so..
Clear?
At this place, he could see the outlines of trees and hills nearby. He could see them so vividly, albeit there was no color.
Every line and shape in this world is razor sharp. But that is all.
He stared in wonder.
Caligula, like a person who saw the beauty of the world for the first time, although it's still in black and white—he moved his head side by side, up and down. Drinking in every detail of his environment.
The sun's brightness doesn't even affect his eyesight.
For the first time in a while, he felt so free..
He could feel his heart beating in his chest out of excitement.
There was no other person there but him...but he wished that there is..
And if this someone were to tell him that this is reality, and not a fantasy, then he would believe it in a heartbeat.
The world around him felt surreal.
Every sensation felt amplified—that he stayed like that for a while, seemingly entranced by everything he saw...
*crunch* *crunch*
He instinctively looked back, feeling annoyed, a contrast to what he wished earlier.
A figure was slowly coming towards him, moving at a steady, confident pace, stepping on the dry leaves that designed the ground—as though the world itself acknowledged the man's right to be there.
Disrupting his quiet world.
Out of habit, his eyes trained to where the face is.
It was blank—like always. Blurry.
Caligula breathed in deeply.
Then his vision shifted. He felt it, rather than saw, suddenly he found himself standing under a very wide and tall tree.
A high tree with thick branches and dense leaves…
*crunch* *crunch*
The man was still moving closer and closer. Not reacting to the fact that the scene surrounding Caligula has changed.
He felt something inside himself—a spark—a bit of intrigue about the man.
While waiting for the man, Caligula craned his neck and studied the tree above him, accepting it as it is.
He did not question himself or anything.
As he tilted his head up the tree, he tried to find gaps in the boughs and lush foliage to see the clouds—but there was none.
Suddenly a question arose... 'What am I doing there?' He paused.
......
"I can't seem to remember", he whispered.
Feeling lost at why he couldn't remember, he focused his attention back on the man that was still approaching. He studied his gait some more.
The figure's build was unmistakably a soldier—a body built from his years on the battlefield.
And the armor he is wearing—a loricahamata— glints under the sunlight.
His hair gently swaying in the warm wind.
Even though he is missing a gladius and a galea, his stride and his demeanor screamed with all the regalia of a Roman general.
He can see the movement of every muscle in his legs.
......
Caligula didn't know how he knew. The information in his brain seems to supply the words in his head. He did not question it. It's just what it is.
......
His heart started to hurt, he felt like he had missed this person all his life... although he couldn't recognize him.
His dream doesn't make an iota of sense.
The boy tried hard to think and to remember—who is this man? He looked at the blank face again.
Empty.
It was very scary.
There seems to be a cloud to his eyes that blocks seeing people's faces. It's like his brain clammed up, it's not functioning.
Anxiety rose within him—like how the first time this happened.
He remembered it as if it was just yesterday. A phenomenon happening like this is not something you can shake off so easily.
One day, after the fever, he woke up and was unable to see the world's color. And when someone approached him like this, a man, he shook with terror—he had no face.
His vision stayed like that until now.
That Caligula still feels lost sometimes.
He felt a sudden mix of emotions blanketing his whole being. His hands started to sweat, his breath hitching.
The presence of that man coming near him.. he could feel it.
Caligula felt himself tensing up when the man finally stopped in front of him.
And for a while no one spoke, and no one moved.
As if they are both measuring each other, which is absurd. He was just a kid. And the man? He can tell he is older.. mid-thirties maybe?
He could feel that the man was eyeing him, even though he couldn't see faces—he could still sense their aura and study their expressions with their body language.
Then the man decided to break the long silence and the boy's line of thoughts—the man spoke.
"Filius meus iuvenis..."
Caligula's eyes closed involuntarily at the voice he remembered so well. Then his tears fell like rain.
How could he forget?
It was his father, Germanicus..
His father reached out his hand to Caligula. He felt a warm, kind smile, even without seeing it. Just his presence alone makes him feel like he is normal.
He started to cry loudly.
"How could I ever forget?" he wailed. How can he? A burst of anger rose within him, but it quickly gave way to grief.
"Father!"
The boy looked at the blank face—literally blank, like a smooth, empty mask. But he knew! He knew it was his father! But he can't remember his face now! His eyes, his nose! He felt robbed!
Caligula stretched out his own small hands, trying hard to grasp his father's. "Father," he whispered, but his voice felt stuck, like it was caught in his throat.
For a brief moment, everything felt real!
The gentle sound of his father's voice and the feeling of comfort. But then, as quickly as he had appeared, Germanicus' body began to fade away.
Taking with him the peaceful scenery that they were in. Dizziness accompanied the shift.
A disparity to the earlier serene atmosphere of the dream, which now seemed like a distant memory. The stark contrast between the peaceful scenery and the violent setting of Germanicus' slow disappearance was jarring.
Caligula's mind struggled to reconcile the two, leaving him feeling disoriented and disconnected.
The ground suddenly felt soft and wet to his feet like quicksand.
A sky filled with turbulent clouds and crows.
His eyes filled with tears as he cried, "Father!" He tried to run after him, but his legs grew weak, unable to lift it up and he fell to the now sticky ground.
Looking up, he saw his father's feet above the wet ground like he was flying. He caught a final glimpse of Germanicus's warm gestures.
"You need to wake up, son."
"You've been asleep for too long," his father said softly."Take care of your mother and siblings. Tell your mother I love her."
He tried to speak, but his voice remained silent.
When his father's hand brushed his shoulder, a sudden chill ran through him. He looked down and saw, to his horror, a severed, bloody arm holding a sword resting on his shoulder.
A rapid sequence of memories rushed over his brain, his journey to Vetera castrum—him singing in front of the campfire—the soldiers calling him 'Caligula'—him learning the sword with his small body—the procession of the wounded soldiers—the severed arm falling from the big wagon—him getting spooked and scared—crying—his father lifting him up—the fever that night—an unknown man clamping down his mouth while he is sick—showing him the dagger that shines in the moonlight—that man hurting him—his father suddenly waking him up—going to Syria—Germanicus death—his brother Drusus slapping him—then another man wanting to hurt Caligula again.....
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" he clawed his face, it was too much for him to bear.
A wave of fear and intense grief washed over him....
"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"
With a gasp, Caligula woke up, sitting upright in the dark room, his heart pounding fast.
He can feel that he is crying, and a yell is caught in his throat.
Caligula tried to make sense of where he was.. but his eyes were met with the familiar grayness of his world.
He squinted his eyes.. It was dark.
With only the brightness of the moon shining through the open window.
And for a while he stayed like that until his heart started to slowly beat normally.
The dream he had... he could feel that it was...extraordinary.. he thought...
But some parts he can't remember.
The ache in his chest was palpable, as if the dream had reopened a wound that had scarred him over.
As he sat there, still trying to normalize his breath, he became aware of the silence around him.
The stillness was oppressive, and he felt a sudden urge to move, to do something to shatter the quiet.
His attention was caught by a faint crashing sound coming from the triclinium.
He sat up, his ears perked up, and listened intently.
The sound came again, louder this time, followed by a muffled sob. Caligula's curiosity got the better of him, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He padded softly out of his cubiculum, his eyes already used to the darkness.. It's fixed on the doorway leading to the triclinium.
As he entered the room, he recognized Agrippina, his mother.
Her back to him, standing by the table—she was surrounded by shattered ceramic fragments, and a small, delicate vase lay broken on the floor.
The room was lit with beeswax candles swaying in the gentle breeze of the night.
Agrippina's shoulders shook with each sob.
And Caligula could sense her devastation. He watched, frozen, as his mother's hands trembled, and she picked up another small vase.
With a swift, almost violent motion, she hurled it onto the marbled floor.
Shattering it into a hundred pieces. The sound echoed through the room, and he felt a pang of sadness.
This wasn't the first time he'd witnessed his mother's outbursts.
Even when he and his siblings are in the room—the breaking of delicate objects has become a regular occurrence, a manifestation of her grief and frustration.
He and his siblings had grown accustomed to the sound of shattering ceramics, but it still unsettled him.
Caligula stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
Agrippina's pain was evident, and he felt helpless in the face of her sorrow. Slowly, he backed away, not wanting to intrude on her private moment of grief.
Without making a sound, he retreated to his cubiculum.
Leaving his mother to her tears and shattered fragments. He lay down on his bed, his mind reeling from the events of the dream and his mother's meltdown.
The lingering emotions all swirled together, leaving him feeling lost and uncertain.
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INDEX: (lets refresh those latins!)
Aestas - Summer
Hora Secunda - Second Hour ( ancient Roman timekeeping) 7am-8am
Solis Ortus - Sunrise
lorica hamata - a type of chain mail armor
gladius - sword
galea - helmet with horsehair crest
Filius meus iuvenis - my young son
cubiculum - room (singular)
cubiculi - rooms (plural)
triclinium - dining area with triclinia
triclinia - a type of U shape couch