And he, without saying a word, would drape his warm cloak over my shoulders and leave me to return to the black tent. I would remain lost in my dream, staring up at the pure night sky over the plain.

Yes. The bird of my imagination flew from the northern coast all the way into the depths of this broad-shouldered dream man’s eyes, across the heart of the night among the tribes and nomads.

Who knew what might happen?

I was amazed that in my dreams everyone was always good. Everything went well. I never saw anything bad happening. I never took anything too seriously. Even insect bites brought a smile to my face in that dream.

Finally, I remembered what Reyhaneh had said: “You’ve gone crazy. Go see a psychiatrist.”

I laughed at that, too, and told myself: Rest, restless spirit. Tomorrow we have to head back.

The one-day trip to the north came to an end. I set out early the next morning to return, and all along the way I planned my next trip and how I would travel.

A few days later, I started looking for an authentic nomadic tribe that still moved from place to place, where I could live for a month.

Eventually, after a great deal of correspondence with someone who had created a website introducing his tribe, I found one. The website owner introduced me to his sister, a community health worker in the village of Qaleh Sorkh in Isfahan province, near where their tribe was based.

I made arrangements with his sister. I checked the spare tire, water, and oil in my car and set off.

It was about six hundred kilometers away. I was supposed to spend the night at the health worker’s home, then go with her the next morning to the tribe, which was about ten kilometers beyond their village. She would introduce me to the tribe and ask permission for me to stay with them for a while.

I planned to stay for a month, but I didn’t tell my parents. I simply told them that I was going to spend two or three days visiting the family of one of my colleagues. They still didn’t know I had quit my job. I thought I’d go first and figure out how to tell them later.

I stayed in touch with the health worker throughout the journey, letting her know almost every hour how far I had gotten. It was winter, and it got dark very early, so I had to hurry—especially because I had left a little late.

I was an excellent driver. Anyone who had seen me drive would admit it. After all, I had once driven to Asaluyeh and back in four days, and by then I had almost forgotten the trip entirely. Apparently, the travel bug had been inside me even before I became a world traveler.

The story went like this. Back when I was still working at the government office I had since left, we once had an Indian visitor who spoke English in his own particular way, with an Indian accent. I was the only person there who could speak English, so during the few days that this man came and went from our office, I ended up handling most of his business.