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ECHO’S PROPHETIC DREAM
Echo lay still and concentrated on her dream. It was the repetitive dream that had appeared often recently. As well, on multiple occasions aroused her from sleep. This time she reconstructed the dream in detail in her head. Thinking so clearly, she decided now was the time to write it all down. Quietly, so as not to disturb Zeb, Echo sneaked out of bed. She headed downstairs and grabbed her diary from the den before taking a seat at the kitchen table. This was no ordinary dream. In her heart of hearts she knew it was a vision from the Creator of all things. Pen in hand she wrote down the specifics.
ECHO’S DREAM
I have had this dream many times. I do not know exactly how many times I have had this dream or when I first had it. I suspect I first encountered this dream vision as a young child. I am aware of having it intermittently as a teenager when I passed through the puberty rites of the White Painted Woman/Esdzanadehe/Changing Woman ceremony. The dream has become more frequent since I returned home from serving my second TOD in Afghanistan with the United States Army. I also had the dream almost nightly when I was in the early phases of becoming the Knowledge Keeper. It arose again with great frequency when I was first pregnant with Elan and Onawa and then again shortly before their birth. In the last several months I have had the dream, or should I say remembered the dream, more often than ever before. Its frequency puzzles me this time. In the past it was related to life changing events. Now, although life is always changing, there seems to be nothing I can relate the dream to.
In my dream I have my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I am wearing a dark long-sleeved T-shirt with a military style camouflaged short-sleeved shirt over the top of that. I am wearing blue jeans and desert camo boots. I am walking across and through a desert with mountains in the background. It is spring and I hear birds singing out to one another. I assume they are mating calls. I know that I am strong and solid.
Suddenly, I burst into running at full speed as though someone is chasing me. I turn around and look behind me, but I see nothing. I deftly sneak behind a large boulder. The boulder is painted green, black and red. It could be a piece of art that belongs in a museum. It might be a flag. It seems familiar but it is so spread out I cannot tell for certain. I climb on the rock to have a better look around. I see that a man is chasing me. He has a gun, a military-style automatic weapon. I recognize it as a Kalashnikov. Now I know I am at war. The land around me stinks of the foul air of Afghanistan.
I scan the area around me. To my north there are trees and safe places to hide, but there is a large field between myself and the trees. I do not think I can make it to the trees without getting shot or at least, shot at. To the south is a lake. Since I am in the desert, I assume it is a mirage. I imagine that I should run to the lake, dive in and grab a reed to breathe through, and swim under water. Even in my dream I realize that I could not survive in a desert mirage.
I look back at the man with the weapon. There are four bodies lying on the ground in his wake. All of them are covered in blood. I am certain they are all dead from getting shot by his weapon. The blood is shadowy, black. In my dream I recognize all of them as other members of my military unit. They are so far away that I cannot possibly see their faces, yet I know who they are. I quickly check myself for weapons. I have a knife, a good knife, a UK-SFK Black Hawk. It feels like safety in my hand. I wonder if I will need it to kill the man up close or if I will use it to defend myself. I do not want to die, but I have no fear of it. My mind races as I remember the knife was given to me by a British Special Forces commando. He smiled when he handed it to me and told me one day I would need it. He was right. In my dream I see his face, his smile and I thank him. He nods knowingly back at me. Then he is gone.
This interaction gives me another small feeling of safety. I check my heart rate as I have been taught. It hits right at seventy-two beats per minute. This gives me a feeling of calm, control. I am wearing a Blue Stone tactical shoulder holster. It is built for two guns but strangely both holsters are empty. I spot a gun, then a second gun on the ground. They are not too far from my feet. How could I have been so careless as to drop them? As I reach to pick them up a hail of bullets thuds into the sand inches away. I jump back. Fortunately, I am coordinated enough, lucky enough to grab the guns. I am amazed at my own acumen. I load the weapons instinctually without thought using muscle memory and training. At the same time my eyes are regarding the man with the gun and the area toward the east where the man is coming from. I figure he is 500 yards away from me. I am an easy target, too easy of a target, given the right circumstances.
I spin my head so I can see toward the west. If he continues to run in a straight line, I will be able to use the large boulder as protection and get to a place where the desert sand slopes down toward a more protected area. The man is speeding up now. He is running faster and faster. I figure I have one minute, maybe ninety seconds before he catches up to me. I have no choice but to outrun him. I think of my mother and father and my grandparents of many generations. I pray they have given me the strength to survive. Praying, thinking, running, reacting, remembering and planning are all woven into a single simultaneous action.
As I take my first step to run, I wonder, oddly, for the first time, why is this man after me? What does he want? What have I done? Am I his enemy? Have I hurt him? Is he angry at someone I know? Why has he killed other members of my unit? An odd thought comes to me that I might be part of a gang of some sort, an Apache gang. I then realize I am wearing a red kerchief around my neck. I understand it is there to hide my identity. I wonder if I am a thief, a robber or a criminal of some kind. I do not think that I am a criminal. Then again, I am filled with uncertainty in all things except my own survival. I also believe the kerchief is protect me from the desert dust. Everything has more than one meaning to me.
I quicken my pace. I run fast, very fast. I run with such speed that I do not recognize the runner as myself because I am moving across the desert much faster than I ever imagined I am able. I know that adrenaline is racing through my system, giving me an edge. I send Usen a prayer of thanks. My prayer gives me stronger wind in my lungs. I feel no sense of fatigue. In fact, I feel powerfully strong, but not invincible. As my fear lessons my confidence increases.
I look back and no longer see the man. I assume I have outrun him as I find myself at the foot of a large mountain. It feels safe, familiar. I know my way around and through these mountains. As I am thinking about what I need to do I hear the footsteps of someone running in my direction. About four hundred yards behind me the man with the gun has once again found me. Now he is on horseback and has a dog running with him. I am shaken by the idea that I might have to shoot the dog and the horse. I know I need to disappear quickly, not only to save myself, but strangely, to save the animals.
My boots feel loose on my feet and I quickly retie them so I can maintain a swift running pace. I sneak off, down a hidden trail, into the mountainous area. I believe the man does not see me and the dog has not caught my scent. The trail will be difficult for a horse. I sense safety. In the distance I hear Zeb calling my name. I cannot see him. My heart thinks of my children. Then, I wake up.
This dream is nearly identical in every aspect each time it repeats itself.
Echo quietly sneaked upstairs so as not to disturb Zeb or the kids and slipped under the covers. As she lay there, eyes open, thinking, she wondered exactly what she had paid attention to, what her dreams meant and was she really safe anywhere. Where was all this coming from? She took her own advice and remembered how she told her children to never worry before going to sleep. She closed her eyes and emptied her mind. A song to Usen lullabied her off to the Land of Nod.
When she opened her eyes, Zeb was laying on his side looking at her. His face spoke of concern.
“What are you looking at me like that for?”
“You were dreaming that dream again, weren’t you?”
“I was.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I believe so. I hope so.”
“The kids are up and moving around. I’ll go down and make them breakfast,” said Zeb. “You can go back to sleep if you wish.”
“Clean up after them and have them brush their teeth and wash their hands and cute little faces.”
Zeb smiled. Echo had been strongly suggesting he participate on a greater level when it came to the children chores. She was correct in doing so. He had done very little of the day to day parenting over the past four years. He agreed it was time he pitched in more. Somehow, he was not doing the little things to Echo’s standards. But he was trying. Echo stepped out of bed, brushed her teeth and stepped into the shower. Zeb headed downstairs to make breakfast.