Dream

On clear moonlit nights repeatedly in the old days,
I had the same bright dream in hours that precede sunrise:
A handsome knight strode through desert in sultry haze, -
True hero of children's books, as I could to surmise.

A night did paint this wondrous image from the fairy tales
With magic brushes, but mocking me as a surprise:
Because I could just only see the some parts of his face.
He had quite an exotic, somewhat the unearthly guise.

The clothes were fluttering in wind in soaring waves, -
A train of thinnest fabric hid him completely, sometimes.
He walked unhurriedly towards me, opening the space
With hands, as if was calling me to go with him by signs.

He whispered me with the hot lips a single phrase,
Such very strange one as: "AkhtEp, do open eyes!".
But the mirage was vanishing in portal's frames
Between the worlds, behind silk screen in tint of skies.

Since then, I haven't had this dream for many years...
Or have we met already, but we don't know ourselves?