We rolled up on a kind of elevation with a flat top. The car stopped right near the bulb – it was hanging just above my door.

“I don't...” I was confused and embarrassed and did not know how to convey it. “I don't... understand?”

Maisha looked at me curiously.

“Oh,” she suddenly realized, “right. That's a common thing for newcomers. You'll get it. Watch out for the dogs!”

“The what?”

Maisha exited the car and went away. Slowly – and rather surprisingly – I realized that I did hear a dog barking. I opened the door and went outside into the cold night. I looked up to study the way the bulb could so solidly hang in the air and got jumped by a huge hairy animal.

“Jesus!” I leaped away and almost fell.

“Don't worry, she doesn't bite! Ama, come here!”

It was a beige Labrador. It was excitingly jumping around me, barking, sniffing me, jumping again.

“Ama, what are you doing? this is rude! Come here, girl!”

Ama ran off to Maisha. I made several steps forward and noticed another dog – this time it was a small mops; it silently ran up to me, sniffed my dusty boots and ran away without a note.

“Ew, so noisy!”A tall man with a splendid wide grey beard appeared before Maisha. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a red shirt with 'red shirt' imprinted in white letters on the chest.

This was the moment when the whole picture started to clear out for me. Behind the man a doorway appeared; from it spread a wall – it went in all directions, right, left, and up to the cornice. It went past me and ended with a corner several feet away; the bulb was now hanging on a metal rod extending from the wall. Opposite to the house, a whole yard materialized from the night air, with another car, two doghouses, some utility outbuildings, and fences.

Another girl appeared on the porch. Maisha kissed the man; the girl, grabbed and rubbed Labrador's muzzle with her hands, “woo, you're my girl, eh!”

She introduced me to the man – her husband.

“The name's Meir,” he said in a splendid British accent.

“My pleasure!” I said, shaking his hand.

“Oh, the pleasure's ours. We're always glad to have newcomers!”

The girl was their daughter named Ailin.

I was invited into the house. We entered a lobby full of outwear on hangers and footwear on the floor. The mops went past me; I scratched its scruff, and it seemed to like it.

“His name is Booty,” the daughter said.

“Booty, huh? That's some real doggo name!”

“Yeah, he's the most real doggo in this house!” the man with the beard joked.

People started shuffling around the house; Booty sat beside me with closed eyes, enjoying scratching and caressing.

Is this a mirage?

Is this real?

“Come in, pal, make yourself at home,” Maisha lead me through the doorway; in front of me there was a staircase, on the left – another lobby, and on the right – a big living room with a huge table.

“What kind of magic is this?”

Meir seemed to understand what I was asking about clearly.

“I call it the volume of sight,” he explained. “The White does not open fully to everybody. You can only see what it allows you to see, and to gain the right to see stuff, you have to put in some work.”

“So, like a game?”

“Well, one could say so in a way, but I wouldn't. The stakes are high here, you know. Death is still real. Unfortunately.” He threw his hands up and smiled. “Anyway, don't be shy, sit down,” Meir was walking around in his 'red shirt' and emitting domestic friendliness.

“One second, we'll clear the bathroom for you and... where do you think you're going?” Maisha caught the mops when he was getting ready to jump on the first step of the stairs. “You're not gonna outside? You don't wanna outside anymore, you're sure? Meir, wash his feet, please.”

“Auright.”

“Ailin, where's the bike?”

“I put it in the shad.”

“Okay, um... sit down, honey, don't stand!” Ailin brought me a chair and said to sit down too. I obliged – I was indeed rather tired.

What am I going to do, when this mirage goes poof?

If it is a mirage, I'm still in the desert. I'm likely cold – deadly cold; I'm hungry and thirsty.

Meir went out of the bathroom, mops trotting near his feet.

“Honey, what are we doing with the jars?”

“What jars?” Maisha was replying from the kitchen, which was around the corner on the left. “Ow, um, take them down.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“All of them?”

“Yes. No!” She ran off to the smaller room and into the bathroom.

“You were going...”

“Yeah-yeah, hold it...”

The mops ran up to me and demanded more grooming. I scratched behind his ears and palmed his head; by the looks of it, he was growing to like me. Ailin brought me a cup of hot tea.

“While they're meddling with their stuff,” she said with a smile.

I'm caressing a pile of sand. I'm likely drinking sand too. God, this mirage is going on for too long, it's getting cruel.

They eventually took out the glass jars with some kinds of jams and preserved juices, and then some other stuff, that a person from Western culture would never conceive of hiding in a bathroom.

“My stuff?” I suddenly remembered about my backpack, where all of my changing clothes were.

“Oh, I believe it's in the car!”

Maisha went to take it and was let into the bathroom. I had a shower – a sweet, moist, hot shower. I stood there thinking, that if it was a mirage, then I'm bathing in the dust. My bag was brought to me from the car and put beside the door; I dried off, put on my clean clothes, and went out.

The table in the guest room was already filled with dishes: vegetables, fruits, bread, hot potatoes, carafes with water, and juice.

If it's still a mirage, I'm about to eat sa... Uh, fuck it.

We had supper. Maisha brought from the kitchen a bowl of some kind of stew, probably beef with cream sauce. I ate all I was given. I could not care about whether it was a mirage a not anymore.

At the meal, they told me more about themselves. They had two children. The daughter was the youngest. Her older brother, named Karl, was out in the city (I wasn't getting surprised anymore. In the city. OK. Got it.) They had a farm, where they were growing tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, potatoes – whatever is sold in modern groceries. They had a garden with multiple fruit trees. They also had three cows and seven pigs, a dozen of chickens, and a bunch of something else. They hired a man called Tigran, who helped the attend to the farm.

After the meal was over, Maisha asked, “Wine?”

The family looked at me – as if I was the head of the house now – but I was not ready for that.

“No, thank you, not today.”

“It's fine. Tea then?”

“Yes, tea would be great.”

“Good. And you – coffee?” Maisha asked Meir.

“That's correct,” Meir replied and reached for a fancy sideboard standing near the end of the table. He took out a smoking pipe

“So,” he asked, puffing rings of smoke. “The mountain?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind me asking?” Filling up the pipe, he looked at me with an expression of a man, actually wondering if I would mind or not.

“Why?” I tried to guess his question. He nodded.

“Absolutely, the first and most important question.”

“She visited me.”

He raised his brows.

“In a dream? Or...”

“No,” I pondered a little on whether I should say it or not but then went for it. “ … visited me personally.”

He lit the pipe and let out a long smoky exhale.

“This is serious.”

“You know this feeling then, right?”

He agreeably shook his head.

“Because I don't know how to explain it clearly. It's just like you want to be with her. Not in a sexual way, but rather... a comradery one?”

“You want to be on her team.”

This time I was nodding.

“Hers is the winning party. This is so clear, when you see her, it's not expressible verbally or visually, you just know it. And you want to be on her side.”

Meir made a deep sigh.

“This is not a trivial task, though. Climbing that mountain is a quest in and of itself, and aside from that you have to master so many other layers: the right attitude, knowledge and skills, and equipment. Not to mention – you have to find a way of getting to it.”

The women returned from the kitchen with a tray of cups and a bowl of sweets. For several moments the conversation went away into cozy chatter.

“These are the sweets Uncle Bo brought us,” Maisha said.

“O-oh, this should be good, we shall try it.”

The sweets were indeed very good, and the tea was delicious. I, however, was eager to ask Meir a lot of questions but wasn't sure how to approach them.

“Have you been there a lot?” I started carefully.

“Four times,” he replied.

“Wow. You must have a lot of experience then?”

“The problem with this kind of experience,” he began after sipping his coffee, “is that you cannot really convey it. It is impossible to explain, and – it is impossible to teach.” He started talking with theatrical pauses. “Because it's very personal. I can give you some general guides. Some useful cues. But the way itself – the way there – you'll have to figure it out yourself. Because for every climber it is his own. This is how she arranged everything.”

For a moment I thought about the guy in the hood I saw at the 'Dead Fish'.

“I already heard it from one man.”

“This is what every person will tell you. This is the basics, as they say.” Meir emptied the pipe in an ashtray and reached for another pack of tobacco.

“How did you find your way?”

“I was blessed, in a way – pardon me this pun. I knew my way from a very early age. I did not know how to walk it, however. That took me a lot of time to ascertain,” he loaded a new bunch of tobacco in the pipe and lit it up.

“But I've seen people, who were able to see the mountain immediately after they got off their vehicles. I've seen people, who had spent a lot of time digging around and crawling in the dust until they managed to see it. I've seen people who didn't seem to be doing anything, yet they somehow saw it when they needed it.”

He made a prolonged pause now.

“And, I know people, who are still wandering this wretched desert without a single clue. Some of them have been wandering for decades and still haven't seen it.”

I once again remembered the guy in the hood. His eyes were vivid in my memory. It made me wonder,

“Why would she do this to people?”

“I... don't think it's 'she'. She is merciful and knowledgeable – she does not pick those who she knows won't cope with the task. My theory is that it might be something to do with themselves.”

“She doesn't really help anybody either,” Maisha inserted.

“She has her own understanding of power,” Meir said, “which implies, that the person chosen is the person already with power. It is up to him, how he's going to use it.”

“Did Uncle Jan have a lot of power?” she asked.

“Oh, he absolutely did. I know you're going to disagree with me on this again, but I now am sure, that he made a wrong choice. One wrong choice failed him completely. That is another thing about her – when she chooses, she gives you choice...”

Maisha and Meir went on talking about ...'s way of treating her selected ones and how it affected this 'uncle Jan'. Then they switched to more family stuff; I sat at my side with my head leaning deeper down. I was listening, but I was also starting to feel especially tired.

“Anyway, I see our guest is all sleepy now,” Meir noticed.

So I was, and so, I was led to the upper floor, where bedrooms were. A separate bedroom with clean bed sheets was given to me; I did not know, how I could thank my hosts.

“Don't sweat it,” Meir said, “this desert is a cruel place, especially for newcomers. It is pretty much our duty to help any fellow climber who's just got here.”

With that I was left alone; without much more to do, I undressed and got into bed. The house had rumbled quietly behind the door for some time yet, while the family was finishing their own business. It did not bother me – I fell asleep almost immediately.