M7 Mike Costa Lives: Nefertiti Dreams

Chapter 1:

“Nefertiti Williamsburg!” echoed this nonchalant utterance from across the room. I had just settled into this voracious novel about the Second Intermediate Period, and now I almost forgot to bookmark my place on my reader tablet.

“Nefertiti! Dinner is ready!” announced the College Dorm’s regional café director. Yes, that’s my name. Although I don’t fancy myself an ambitious Queen from the late 18^th Dynasty, nor did I adopt it as a pseudonym. My parents were both avid Egyptologists.

“I’m coming!” I proclaimed with my audacious lilt amid squinty lenses glued to my denim blazer attire. I waved my ringed index finger across the tablet screen to mark my progress, stood up, and briskly entered the Café.

“So, what’s new on the grill?” I asked the waitress politely. Sunlight poured into the Café from heavy wooden blinds in the late afternoon on this side of Berkeley, California.

“The Special today is Crab Surprise. If you find any Crab meat in it, that will be a surprise,” the waitress grinned. “You know, since last year’s Pandemic we haven’t caught the usual Salmon or Dungeness Crab. When will the Government let up? We can’t survive another six months of rationing saltwater fare.”

“I see. Is there a Vegan Menu?” I asked.

“Egyptologist huh?” she asked me.

“Of course,” I interjected. “Although I do worry for the Crab’s venture into the Halls of Anubis in its afterlife,” I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Honey, we see people coming and going. Some are named after Intef or Thutmoses or Ramses the Great on their Internet handles. Outside of that, you’re standing in an Egyptology Café. Nah, don’t look surprised, I knew your parents. Nice couple they were, always tipping the bartender down Barrow’s Hall. Here’s the Vegan Menu,” she winked.

I scanned down the list of Fruit Smoothies, French Salads, Pasta, breads, and Mediterranean cuisine. The list was on a tablet computer integrated into the wooden table. I found my selection, pressed it lightly, and watched an avatar dance for a few seconds on the screen.

The College Dorm’s Café Director, Melissa Scott, found my booth in the café and decided to visit. She plopped down a series of volumes onto the table, and carefully removed a sealed envelope from this leathery attaché case, handing it to me as I adjusted my glasses to the Café lighting.

“What’s this?” I exhaled as a slight breeze lifted the dust from the room. Opening the paper with a flick of my sharpened nails, my eyes examined its contents with intrigue.

“There’s an excavation going on in North Abtu. It’s fully funded, and well received by the Egyptology Community. And get this – they’re allowing College Grad Students an exclusive visit to the site. We could slip in, take a few photos and leave before anyone notices. Now that’s something to post on your thesis cover, right?” Melissa replied.

My eyes bulged at the sight of the represented Egyptologists list.

“Yeah, I noticed that as well. The top five are attending it. No one knows about you,” Melissa smiled. “Your parents would approve.”

Twenty minutes later my food arrived via the waitress. Melissa’s offer was well-placed in my career choice. There was something else she gave me. It was a silvery amulet of Bes, the Egyptian God that protected against nightmares. Although it was a tourist trinket in terms of value, I was recently having these vivid dreams about Ancient Egypt. I placed it on my neck as one would a Cross or Star of David or some other charm.

I stayed at the Café until closing time, which was about 9:00pm. I never realized how much the Second Intermediate Period was so interesting. The Café Janitor was about to start, so I switched my tablet off and exited the building, walking along the tree-lined avenue to the Dorm apartments.

My roommate Clara held the door open on entering the dormitory. My room was this two-bedroom flat with shared bathroom and a living room, laundry was down the hallway. I had enough room for my Queen-size bed, some bookshelves, a dresser with a digital television mounted on top, a clock radio, an electric toothbrush, and a laptop PC. Most of my clutter was in Egyptology, second year Grad School. A picture frame of my parents was taped to the bookshelf under a copy of Egyptian Grammar. There was a closet in the room. The bathroom was large for Dorm standards, comprised of a shower, twin granite sinks, toilet, and wooden Sauna. All the fixtures were modern. Clara used the living room for her exercise videos and for evening Yoga.

By 10:00pm I was ready for sleep, having performed the usual toiletries, makeup and a cleansing shower. When I awoke, after apparently ten minutes of darkness, I was lying in this grassy field. The Morning Sun had yet to appear. The sky above me was crystal clear with distinguishable Stars and a crescent Moon on the horizon. Reeds as tall as sheep dotted the plains. I stood up and began walking towards this visage in the midst. The ground was moist with occasional sand as my bare feet impressed footprints as I walked. The image ahead reminded me of page 241 in my College text book on Egyptian Architecture.

I approached this windowless clay dwelling. Two air-catcher formations allowed the wind to circulate on the roof, as a form of air-conditioning. The ceiling seemed to be of wood covered in yellow palm fronds. The walls are of sun-dried clay bricks, with a varnish of white color from crushed limestone. A mosaic of blue tiles on the floor led to twin reed mats. The doorframe was decorated with a winged Sun symbol, as if protecting the owner from collapse. A glint of metal ushered me forward, whereupon I discovered a silver charm suspended from a string of Faience.

Outside the dwelling the sound of trembling movements echoed in the distance. There on the horizon cascaded a storm of chariots, their horses kicking up dust as they sped along. Behind the dwelling hid a marshland with honking geese, blue-billed ducks, and a few hungry crocodiles. The marshland fed a concourse of red dirt leading to a few Pylon gateways a few miles away. I decided to walk in that direction.

Whitewashed limestone trapezoids connected to limestone walls, covered in murals of flora and fauna. The Pylon gateways towered above with windows for Security. Though locked, the gilded copper gates were spaced apart allowing a glimpse into the daily rituals of leopard skin garbed Priests burning Frankincense to dozens of veiled idols. The sweet scent of Myrrh and Frankincense covered the stench of animal waste, refuse, and industrial copper production that seemed to litter the exterior of the Sanctuary. Columns of granite, painted to resemble Egyptian plants or flowers, upheld a wooden roof with golden stars affixed to a blue lapis background. Two limestone obelisks greeted the entrance.

A contingent of peasants carrying bushels of flowers, fruits, and a wrapped Mummy appeared in the courtyard of the Temple to offer tribute. The women wore simple blue linen gowns, worn leather sandals, and wax cones on their wigs. The men carrying the Mummy were clean shaven, and donned simple linen tunics, kilts, with leather sandals also. Two male adults followed, sporting Osiris beards.

A trumpet sounded from afar. It had this metallic intonation almost like my alarm clock. Suddenly my vision began to blur, and my ears rang with this repeating vibration, as if a cellular phone was chiming. I heard a voice in my ears, calling my name…

“Nefertiti!” the voice demanded. I awoke in my bed, still in my Dorm flat. Clara was standing bedside nearby. “Are you awake?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” I replied. “I was just… dreaming.” The clock radio showed the time. It was 11:00am, Saturday. I was supposed to clean out the trash that morning.

“Well, when you are ready, the trash bin is outside near the door. Don’t forget to put in the recycling!” Clara said.

A few hours following lunch, I decided to take up Melissa’s offer to visit the Abydos Excavation Site in Egypt. I could claim the time spent there as extra-credit for my classes. So I sent her a text message on my Pear C-Phone. I wasn’t expecting an answer right away. A few household chores elapsed until I received a reply.

“Sure, I will send word to the Community. Please pack lightly. Melissa,” read the return message. I pressed Save on the Phone and switched it off.

I returned to my Dorm room to pack my suitcase and a carry-on holder. “Let’s see. Underwear, check; Cosmetics, check; two pairs of normal clothing, a swim suit, hats, preventive Masks, walking shoes, Sunscreen with Aloe, check; passport and visa, check; some cash, check; cell phone, First Aid Kit, okay – what else do I need?”

“What about a dusty Fedora and a whip?” asked a voice from behind me.

I turned around and greeted the visitor with a smile. It was my cousin, Leo.

“Ah Cousin Leo, when did you arrive?” I asked him warmly with a brief hug.

“I just popped in while I was driving through Berkeley, remembered you live around here, and decided to pay you a visit. Where’s your next adventure?” Leo asked with a return grin.

“Well, if you must ask, the Café Director sent me an invitation to visit Egypt. Apparently there is an excavation site in Abydos, under wraps. The top five Egyptologists are attending it. I decided to agree,” I replied while packing.

“Abydos? Well congratulations! That’s great,” Leo said excitedly. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night,” I replied. “I just received an email with all the necessary documents. It will be a brief, walk-in, take photos and walk-out type experience, nothing fancy like a Nile Cruise or anything.”

“Wow! That’s a shock. You’d think they would give you more time to prepare. Are you taking the Rocket this time?” Leo said. The Rocket was a recent Space Tourism transportation system that allows overnight travel to exotic locations.

“Yeah, I believe so. It’s about 5 hours’ flight including an hour of weightlessness. They leave the Space Port from SFO this time. The landing site is near the Luxor Desert area,” I said while zipping my suitcase closed. “I believe there is a hook-up with the International Space Station on the return flight.”

“Cool,” Leo mentioned while fumbling with his car keys. His red Maserati sports car was parked outside with the air-conditioning running. “Well, I’ve got to go see the sights. Call me when you arrive,” Leo replied.

“Thanks,” I said. “Drive safely.”

Chapter 2:

Onboard the TX-17 Spaceship Orbiter (the Rocket) I was seated and strapped into the cushioned seat across from a single window portal. My luggage was safely stored in the Cargo hold after it passed a lengthy security check. Outside I could faintly see some fog-like emissions from the Rocket’s engines. We were positioned in an upwards direction, but the anti-gravity cabin was horizontal. A robotic device inched by on a track lining the floor, offering magazines, carbonated drinks, and digital computer games to the passengers.

Music was on the intercom followed by detailed instructions in case the ship aborts, in which case the capsule will detach and parachute to safety. This has only happened twice in the Company’s history, both occurring in test runs. The Captain gave instructions to her crew and prepared to takeoff…

Minutes later the ship propelled itself upwards into the clear blue sky on a column of liquid Oxygen. The land below slowly became as indistinguishable as ants crawling on a lemon peel.

An hour into the flight and I could visualize the upper levels of the ionosphere from the portal window. Gone were cloud formations, and entered various satellites vying for space to send signals back to the Mainland. The ISS was up ahead a few hours away. So I decided to nap for my duration.

My eyelids fluttered in the obscurity of darkness. Something wet was licking my left cheek. I awoke, startled that a feral cat was sitting on my chest. “Oh, did you want something?” I asked it as it ran away into the marshland.

I approached a stone building on my left. Smoothly polished granite walls rose to a pinnacle of gold and lapis lazuli atop a magnificent obelisk. It was carved in Late 18^th Dynasty hieroglyphs judging by the depth of each incision.

Yellow platform tables with horizontal and vertical panes of wood supported vials of perfume, wafting incense, two amphorae of freshly-cultivated red wine, and cooked meat with lotus flowers. The floor was of red Aswan Granite, arranged like brickwork. Jewel-collared pet Greyhounds guarded the entrances to the various interconnecting rooms. Each door was fashioned of bronze with handles in the shape of Uas Scepters terminating into an Ankh glyph, sealed by Tumbler locks. Clearly this was a Temple of some sort. But to whom was it?

I walked about the Courtyard. Sandstone statues of Pharaohs – both standing and seated – guarded the avenue leading to the Djoser-Djoseru, or Inner Sanctum. This was carefully flanked by Stone Sphinxes with the faces of a lost Queen. Pillars supported the starry ceiling formation. A coins’ toss away was a sacred pool or lake with white Lotus blossoms sprouting in the center. Four statue heads of Bes along the upper walls served as water fountains when the sky rained its annual offering.

I glanced ahead to a Priest clad in a bleached white linen robe, his head cleanly shaven and tattooed. His face was calm and serene, but mysterious. He pointed towards a metallic plate set against a wall, a mirror of polished copper. As I eagerly agreed to this action of goodwill, I sensed danger… The image of the polished mirror showed my reflection. I was dressed in a pleated white linen robe, with a sash, and a curious headpiece like my namesake once wore…

The capsule rocked violently for a few seconds, awakening me. We had landed. Outside the capsule I could see the Valley of Queens and various Museums in the distance. Our parachutes fell after the capsule touched the ground, partly covering the ship’s windows with red and white polyester. The robot returned along the floor, offering a clean towel and water bottles to each passenger. I messaged Clara and Leo that we landed safely in the Luxor Desert Port.

The crew opened up the Capsule’s main door as a stairwell connected outside. Fresh Egyptian air filled our lungs as recycled Oxygen escaped. This felt almost like a newly discovered tomb effect.

The Security apparatus escorted all passengers to the cleaning office first, to make certain we were not carriers of a recent virus. Blue light scanned our bodies to kill pests before we entered the Baggage Claim room and the lobby. This process exhumed a good hour’s time.

Cloud formations formed outside the lobby in the direction of Karnak. My cell phone allowed a few bars of reception, so I called Melissa Scott.

“Hey,” I started. “Yeah, the flight was superb. No, I fell asleep, as usual…”

“There is a bus that will take you to Abydos. It’s the Royal Cleopatra,” Melissa replied on the phone. “Yes, it has air-conditioning, and extra cushions.”

“Of course, I know. I may have a sleep disorder? Really? I thought the dreams were normal, you know,” I told her. “The last one was extremely vivid, like I was almost there – in Ancient Egypt. Like I was Nefertiti herself,” I said.

“Okay, I will check with the Community. They know you are here,” Melissa replied and switched off.

I dragged my patented leathery suitcase along the concrete path to the bus terminal in the humid, temperate Egyptian air. The suitcase has integrated wheels. Security was tight except for locals selling trinkets, melons, and bottled water. Officials carrying documents and tablet computers escaped the terminal with ease, while wearing business attire and personal identification buttons.

A local tourist guide helped me with my luggage. He also verified my identity on the passport, visa, and eye scan. My name only causes me problems sometimes.

The bus drove out from the Space Port like a camel in the sand dunes, slowly at first before it gallops away and just as bumpy. We passed by salesmen in the roadside ventures selling fake artifacts or replicas to unwary tourists, fruit juices, Egyptian Cotton shirts emblazoned with Tutankhamon’s Mask, and Egyptian National flags. Scores of children raided Bus stops asking for tips or camera photographs with them. An occasional feral cat appeared along the roadway.

I decided to nap for a few minutes while waiting. The trip to Abydos was a few hours long given traffic.

I was walking inside a royal Palace. Potted ferns on platform tables positioned themselves like checkers on a board game, guarding each room along a winding hallway. The floor was ceramic tiles, of red and turquoise color. Walls decorated with murals of religious and daily life adorned the entrances. Up above the ceiling had square skylights, and painted blue sky with gilded stars imprinted like tiles. Carved limestone pillars held the ceiling.

In one room I saw a group of huddled, naked male children with side-locks of plaited, black hair being doused with water by a bald, linen-clad priest. The water fell into a passage in the floor leading outside like a drain. Water came from ceramic ewers held by the priest whom also carried a bronze staff.

Another room was on ahead. This was a House of Life where craftsmen were busy constructing items for a tomb, while a teenager consulted with a woman. The craftsmen held various Shabty figures of wood and gold, or lapis and silver; the Shabty was a servant who worked for the deceased in the Egyptian Heaven.

“No, Tut, you can’t play with that, they’re for your Afterlife,” the woman informed the teenager as he attempted to pick up a Shabty figure.

I waded back to the main hall. A woman was talking to a girl in the garden just outside one window. “Little Ankh-sen-pa-aton, you should be more like Tut. He loves life,” the woman said. The girl was playing with a doll of linen with plaited hair. She was young, maybe 12 years old, of dark hair and cool, blue eyes. The woman wore a flat crown of black material and a golden cobra tiara. She appeared to be in her 50’s and was tall with a long flowing gown of white linen with golden sequins and a lotus sash.

I approached two smaller rooms towards the back area of the Palace. One had a small boat floating in a calcite basin filled with water and lotus flowers as it rested on a platform table. Below on the floor a pet mongoose cleansed itself with its tongue. Rugs fashioned of reed mats comforted the room while a couch made in the appearance of an exotic animal permitted feather-filled cushions to support some harem women.

The next room was a Treasury as indicated by an Official holding a scribe’s palette and papyrus scroll, with two attendants holding bags of gold rings, grain, and more scrolls. Each person wore similar attire – flowing linen tunics, kilts, sashes, and leather sandals. An ebony coffer displayed its wealth of gold and silver vessels, jewels, and semi-precious stones. I looked away from these rooms for a second as a man was running into me as I stood there. He looked up with these kohl-lined eyes, a white Khat head cloth, and a trembling mouth…

“Alright! Everyone Out!” announced a voice. It was the bus driver. We arrived in Abydos.

The passengers exited the bus into the afternoon breeze. My hotel was a few minutes’ walk from here, so I paid a local to carry my luggage on his two-person tricycle. I could see irrigated fields along the Nile River, with cattle grazing, tourist camels, and small Felucca boats. The Temple of King Sety I appeared in the distance carefully separated from the main city by concrete and palm trees. Flying cars for the elite fluttered about the city, landing on a cushion of air while their wings folded up.

My hotel was a seven star resort, complete with indoor pools, waterfalls, statuary, Billiards room, and limited Casino. A bellhop took my luggage to my room, on the fifth floor. This gave me time to absorb my surroundings.

“Okay, so there’s a gift shop on the left. A restaurant is on the west side, good. And I do see some people talking over there towards the Information Kiosk,” I said to myself. I walked over there and asked for a carbonated soda drink.

“Nefertiti Williamsburg! I do remember you from Zoology 201!” a colleague introduced me from my University. “How have you been? Are you still studying for – of course you are, why else would you be here?”

It was the usual. I let her go on about my parents, how my classes seemed opaque, and our Sorority Meetings. I did not mention why I kept falling asleep or why I dreamed about Ancient Egypt so much since last quarter. I left out the part about Queen Nefertiti. There was no need to spike the wine just yet.

“…Well I am here for the duration of the exhibit, and if you want to chat or hang out my room is on the fourth floor, here, in the Marvelous Royal Cleopatra. Take care now,” she replied.

My phone beeped a few times. Three messages popped on – one was from the bellhop to inform me that my room was ready. Another said to adjust my time clock to Egyptian time zone. And the third one was from Melissa Scott, about the exhibit tomorrow evening, to wear something “Smart Casual.” I sent messages out to Leo, Clara, and Melissa about the trip on board the Rocket, the bus ride, and etc.

I decided to linger a while before ascending to my room. The Casino was a fun detour from the usual tourist traps, since the Government realized its monetary potential. Ancient Egyptian slot machines were Egyptian Pound Traps likewise.

I followed the crowd into the gaming tables section. Roulette, Camel Racing, Backgammon, Digital Senet, Black Jack, and Craps were the usual fare. Amounts ranged in Egyptian currency but also accepted US paper money or Euros. Drinks and pastries were free provided one actually played for a few hours. The entrance gimmick was a free credit of 10,000 units – which lasted about 10 minutes for a gambler. Luckily I wasn’t that into gambling. I mostly sprouted around winners for the free drinks and pastries.

Dinner was in another hour, which passed by faster than a greyhound and swifter than a shadow. NY Steak, grilled potatoes, vegetable pilaf, and fruit dessert followed by breads, soups, and free carbonated drinks was complementary to friends of the Egyptology Community. They also paid for my hotel stay.

My digital watch read 9:00pm. I explored the Billiards room for an hour, watching Egyptologists hit 8-Balls into corner pockets. Then I took a brief swim in the provided swimming pools and hot tub. By 10:40pm I ascended to my room via a glass elevator. My room was at the end of one hallway. It had this ingenious lock shaped like a Scarab beetle accepting plastic card keys. I opened the door and entered.

The room was dark except for moonlight, so I switched on the lights. My room was a suite, so it contained two Queen-sized beds, complete (and private) bathroom, kitchenette, balcony, and living room with TV. A sign on the marble table read, “Complementary soda is in the fridge.” The lights were in the shape of Tutankhamon busts. A laundry bag with bathing cap, extra towels, and sandals lay in a hamper near the closet. Two clock radios rested on night tables between the beds. I found my luggage and sorted through my stuff for the remainder of the hour.

I plopped down onto the memory-foam bed with Egyptian cotton comforter, blankets and sheets. The pillows seemed to contain down feathers or imitation foam. There was a remote controller device on the bed to control temperature settings, TV, lights, radios, and bed positions. I glanced to the clock radio which read “11:31 PM.” I used it to switch off the lights and went to sleep.

Chapter 3:

The alarm buzzed for nine minutes. “Wha--?” I invoked Bes. “Why did I not dream this time?” I asked the pillows. The clock read 10:00am, Egyptian time.

I slipped out of bed, walked to the bathroom and plunged my head into the ice bucket reserved for champagne with its melted ice. The tepid water cooled my fair brunette hair, dripping along my bronzed, muscular back and off that tattoo of Horus I had inscribed once. Why do I have a tattoo of Horus? It was a College thing.

The bathroom shower invigorated my sleeplessness. Hotel toiletries included among other things a four-ounce bottle of Sobek Body Wash, a vial of official Royal Cleopatra perfume, and her trademarked bars of soap. I wanted to keep the complementary hotel robe but it had this microchip embedded on the back. Four clean glasses for water with paper lids were neatly placed near the travertine marble sinks. The mirror fogged up by the steam, so I opened a small window leading outside where I could hear drumming in the distance.

Bum-Bum-Bum, Tra-La-La-La, Bum-Bum, Bum echoed the drums. I peered outside the square of concrete and wire mesh, and downwards to the Plaza. A group of dancers or acrobats performed to the drums in a tented enclosure across from the lobby. It was “Amonhotep Day.”

I dressed in “Smart Casual” clothing, which meant nothing too fancy, but still casual. No denim pants or anything American, so I wore pressed slacks, a business shirt with light silk jacket, and walking shoes. I don’t believe this would win a fashion contest, but then I don’t know Modern Egypt. My transition lenses completed the picture, with a casual windbreaker hat, no Fedora.

The glass elevator was unusually crowded today. Maid Service occupied most of the halls, so I took the stairs. The Casino level was bustling with activity. One could hear the bing-bing-bing of winning slot machines hitting Bonus rounds. Tour guides ordered their servants to escort travelers to each separate destination routes. Ground Floor exited to the lobby and the Valet service with servants waiting for stretched limousines or flying cars. The Valet officials wore French outfits with red Fez caps and black batons. I was instructed in my email to watch for the “Red Car with the Golden Camel.” About ten minutes later this red Bentley pulls up with a gold camel emblazoned on its door, its Arabic driver asking for directions in cool Californian accent. I approached and placed my College student ID onto the glass window on the passenger’s side. The driver turned to me and smiled.

“God willing, this day I finally meet you, Ms. Williamsburg. How was your flight?” he asked me politely as I entered the car. “I am Ahmed, the official driver of Nefertiti,” he smiled.

We drove up to the traffic light and down the passage towards the City.

The road was not as bumpy this time, blamed on perfect shock absorbers. The interior of the car resembled an old Taxi car, with a photo of Ahmed’s family taped to the sunscreen panel. There was a GPS computer integrated in the wood-like dashboard, along with a cigar lighter, digital compass, and coffee maker. Below on the armrest were a hidden compartment and a drink holder. The passenger side allowed room for a separate pillow. Ahmed didn’t speak much. He mostly kept to the road as I educated him in Late Roman Antiques.

As we approached our destination, a sudden thud hit the car from above. “God is great! The birds hit our car, again!” He was referring to the sea gulls mating season this week as they flew in from Alexandria, dispersed by the Rocket. A glob of sea gull dung had hit the windshield.

“Potassium Nitrate,” I added. Ahmed turned to me in disgust, and then smiled to himself as we arrived to the Valet Parking lot. A servant ushered us out so he could park the Bentley.

“Well if it isn’t Nefertiti! Welcome dear,” introduced a woman in a casual suit with spiked heels. We entered a party scene at the Museum adjacent to the excavation site. The information brochure mentioned that a recently discovered tomb was found within the year, and so the people built the Museum around it as a preservation model. The tomb was intact; its seals were never broken.

“So you built a whole Museum around the site?” I inquired.

“Yes, we thought it was wise to prevent illegal digging,” replied an Egyptologist. “We even placed a barrier made of solid Titanium around the perimeter. It has withstood the harshest of attempts.”

“Is there a Mummy?” I asked another Egyptologist.

“Yes, we believe so. The burial chamber has not been breached yet, but our robots read there is a void with clutter consisting of organic and metallic items. An analysis indicates at least one Mummy is inside. Would you like some Mint Julep?” asked an Egyptologist. There were drinks distributed by robot servers.

“Oh of course, yes please,” I said. I sipped the drink slowly.

“Ms. Williamsburg?” asked a waiter. “I have a message from our Director.”

I placed the now empty Mint Julep on a server plate while receiving the message on my cellular phone. “Greetings, Nefertiti. I am Galen Knighthead, Supreme Director of Egyptian Art and Antiquities to the Abydos Museum of Natural History. I knew your parents, Jack and Jacqueline Williamsburg. I suggest you follow the highlighted path to the excavation site on your phone.”

Wow, The Galen Knighthead wants to meet me? And he knew my parents? I suddenly felt inspired like a Gaelic celebrity or something. I followed the path on my phone’s application into a secure room within the excavation site itself, just outside a breezy pathway. The path was lined in wet plaster, cordage, and carpeted wooden ramps. I looked up. In front of me was a statue of Bes holding its paw upwards as a greeting, while it held a sign written in English, Arabic and French – “Hello, Mind the ceiling.”

A voice startled me from behind. “You won’t find a Bes that tall in the States,” he said. I turned to meet Galen Knighthead, a kindly gentleman from East Texas originally. He was somewhat bald and in his progressive sixties, a survivor of Cancer, and Covid21. He owned a ranch and four Museums in Egypt. His last wife left him for a billionaire oligarch in Russia, so he settled down in Abydos.

“My pleasure,” I said as I extended my hand in greeting. “How well did you know Jack?”

Galen took me on a concise excursion through the dig site, pointing to the various levels of excavation with a short history of his finds. He and Jack were old friends, golf buddies mostly. Jack once confided in him a treasure city’s location and to never reveal it until the Egyptian Government became a true Democracy. That never happened after the Insurrection, so he forgot about it. Galen searched for the city but never found it. Then Jack went missing, assumed dead by the search party in Alexandria after three weeks of exploration. Jacqueline never gave up. Later someone reported a tip about Jack’s location so she took it and searched, but she never returned either. My uncle Devon took care of me until I became an adult and moved out to the College Dorm. Galen believed this site was a key to the treasure city itself, and he appointed me to help him find it. Then perhaps I can find my parents.

“Galen, I don’t know if I told you, but I’ve been having strange dreams of Ancient Egypt recently,” I said cautiously. “The dreams focus on the late 18^th Dynasty, in the reigns after Akhenaton…”

“Yes. There is something I need to show you,” Galen remarked as he opened a doorway into the excavation site. “Follow closely.”

The passage was dark and damp, almost musty. He blasted an electric torch flashlight into the passageway ahead. “The Burial Chamber itself,” he said. “Seals are intact. The Nine captives below an Anubis figure, tied in linen cordage and sealed in pressed clay. The seal is royal, and unmistakably female. Read it,” he said.

“Hmm… Queen of the Two Lands, Great Royal Wife, beloved of Waenra, the ruler, Nefer-neferu-aton Nefertiti,” I translated. My eyes bulged at the seal, which was followed by me blacking out.

I heard voices, commenting on blood pressure, motion sickness, and nausea. The lights above me were white, almost like fluorescent. My back felt like it was on a padded bed, and something covered my mouth and nose, giving me air. Then I passed out again.

I awoke on a bed in a room unfamiliar to me. Golden hues decorated the walls amongst pictures of giraffes, a baboon, and a figure of Bes. The bed was of Cedar wood, with a wooden head rest and cushions on top. The mattress was of packed linen, coarsely covered in reeds. A passage led outside so I stood up and followed it. It led me to a clearing.

A man stood in the center of the clearing, his fists tightly closed at his sides, with a crown and cobra diadem on his elongated head. His back was to me, so I reached out and touched his shoulder. He turned with a snarl.

“How dare you steal my throne? I am the Pharaoh, the rightful Horus on the seat of his father!” he shouted.

“Who are you?” I asked the man.

“I am your beloved, Waenra, Son of Aton-Ra, heir to my father and to my sons! Have you not forgotten me while in the arms of another man?” Akhenaton demanded.

“But that would make me your wife, Queen Nefer--,” I stopped. “Who did I sleep with?”

“Don’t you remember? Smenkhkara!” he yelled in anguish. “You are Queen Nefertiti!”

“Nefertiti!” said another voice. “NEFERTITI!”

“Nefertiti, snap out of it,” demanded a woman. “It’s just a dream.”

I awoke on a hospital bed inside the Museum’s emergency rooms. Galen told me I passed out in the tomb, so he sent someone over with scented salts and some Oxygen. He believed this was caused by some trapped Ancient air inside the chamber that leaked out as I was reading the text.

“The dream… It was Akhenaton and he blamed me for sleeping with Smenkhkara!” I said to the crowd of onlookers. “Really…”

“Ms. Williamsburg, do you suffer from hallucinations, sleepwalking or astral projection?” asked a man dressed in a white medical suit near the bed.

“No of course not, why?” I asked him.

“Just standard tests,” he replied. “We also require a blood sample.”

I looked towards Galen in disbelief. He shrugged it off.

“When can I return to the tomb? Can we?” I asked Galen.

Galen walked over to the hospital bed after I was pricked for a blood sample on my index finger. “If you feel up to it,” he said silently. “It was my fault, not yours. I should’ve known about the possibility of a leak.”

“Dr. Knighthead, indications suggest that the tomb is ready for opening,” said an attendant. Galen smiled and took my hand.

Two hours of silence felt like an eternity as workers lifted the stone sarcophagus lid from its home of 3300 years. They placed it onto a crevice within the Museum proper. Workers cut through the wrappings once it was X-rayed and photographed by heat sensors. The Mummy’s face was now visible.

“Hmm… She looks middle aged for an Egyptian. Tall with an aquiline nose, lightly tanned, thin lips, and if she had glasses she would look just like you,” Melissa Scott suggested. “Well, give or take a few centuries of perfection.”

I examined the face and compared her to my Californian Driver’s photo.

“I do see the family resemblance,” Galen said at length. “Good girl.”

We all had a laugh that would have awoken the dead. Later I noticed a green crystal amulet in the shape of a Bes figure around its neck. I was curious so I slipped it off the Mummy of Nefertiti and dropped in onto my neckline.

We returned to the Royal Cleopatra hotel following a brief survey of the tomb offerings. A box of Shabty figures, the gold coffin itself, a gilded ritual bed, two Ebony coffers full of amulets, some preserved baskets of food, clay amphorae of drink, a Cedar wood chair, and the like were photographed with identifying stickers for the catalogue later.

I entered my hotel room via the glass elevator. The clock radio read “10:00pm” Egyptian time. I changed into something more casual. With the green crystal Bes amulet firmly attached around my neck, I decided I would sleep better tonight. I hope Bes does his job of protection from nightmares. I thought about this for a few minutes before I turned off the light.