That Day in the Desert: A Storyteller Tale Read online

  “All translation is difficult.” His voice brushed the tablecloth, ruffling its edges. “For one with your experience, perhaps more so than for us simpler souls, but think of those on Earth who might raise their eyes to Larreta if they knew of its existence.”

  Analia acknowledged his chiding by putting a tiny pink rosebud on the table between them. Behind his crinkled eyelids, the old man focused on the rose. It exploded and turned into its essence. Golden droplets rose well past the middle branches of Oak Woman. As they fell, everyone relaxed in the hail of gold.

  Analia closed her eyes to indicate she wanted privacy. He was flattering her, for Analia was the newcomer on Verdallon. The word newcomer floated into her mind. With her new status came a responsibility she had not fully considered until that moment. I am a teacher, she thought, not an artist who creates new visions. My experiences were my education and my task here is to tell of what I've learned. That is true.

  “Your task is to tell of what you've learned, is it not?” Nara said. “Your subject is behavior, not mathematics or poetry.”

  “Yes, but I was to help the dreamwalkers of Larreta. To teach the dreamers of Earth from here is a different matter. They hear only words. They forget their dreams at least half the time. They are difficult to convince. I fear I am not experienced enough for this assignment.”

  “All newcomers tremble,” Oak Woman rustled. A leaf from her tallest branch spiraled down and brushed Analia's cheek like a forgotten voice.

  “A newcomer,” Leo said to Valerie. They stood on the balcony of the Coast House, watching the sun disappear into the sea. “Don't we have enough trouble without dealing with some fool who doesn't know what he's doing?”

  Analia saw the two as tiny pictures in her mind. She struggled to place them in time so she could tell of it later. The picture changed to daylight. Sunlight shone in Valerie's eyes as she looked at Jesse, the newcomer with eyes the color of the Sea of Larreta at sundown.

  The sun burned her shoulders; the salted wind threw sand in her eyes. “I was up there last night. I climbed as far as I could, to the spot that should have been right, but I couldn't see a thing. It's just too damned perfect, believe me.”

  “I believe you,” he said. “But it's something to do.”

  Valerie started to shrug him off, but she looked into his eyes again. She had the oddest sensation that someone was watching them, but there was no one else on the beach.

  “Why not? We can walk up. I know the path.”

  The tiny figures in Analia's mind started up the mountain trail to the spot where Jesse found the one thing that had eluded Valerie in all her years on Larreta.

  “It would have happened anyway,” Analia said. “My remembering them did not affect their development. If she had not taken him up the mountain that day, they would still have discovered his gifts.”

  “But when?” Nara asked.

  “A little later.”

  “Who knows the result when events happen later? She gave him courage, and he was better able to encounter Leo because Valerie believed in him.”

  “I am a teacher, not a storyteller,” Analia said although she was beginning to realize she'd lost the argument.

  “Sometimes the only way to teach history is to record it,” said the old man in white.

  “Through the writings of the dreamers,” Nara added. “You will agree, won't you, Analia? Father has had a wonderful vision of your success. We will store your words in the great library of Larreta. Countless generations will learn from them.”

  “I am bound to listen and consider all ideas, but I am not bound to create anyone else's vision,” Analia said.

  “Your integrity is understood.” Nara blazed gold for a moment before her lights returned to blue. “I did not imply lack of choice, only a most wonderful possibility. Your journey is significant. You would not be here if Leo had not acted as he did. He rectified our ancient error, and for that act of courage, we are grateful beyond measure. The Mentors will sing about it for ages.” Her lights pulsed gold again, then silver. “You are one of us now. We need your voice to complete the harmony of the tale.”

  Analia sighed. “I will consider your request. Will you come back for my decision? I wish to contact this dreamer.”

  “Of course, my dear,” said the old man. “Come, daughter. We will leave Oak Woman until our return, if you have no objection. She is so enjoying your garden.”

  Analia had to lean back to see the top of the sentient tree. “She'll grow too tall, I fear, in your absence.”

  The old man in white rose. “All newcomers tremble.”

  After Nara and her father left, Analia looked up at Oak Woman. “We have met before, but I can’t quite recall.”

  “Tell me your story and you will recall my relatives. They remember you well.”

  “I never met a tree who spoke in riddles.”

  More leaves spiraled down.

  Analia settled herself in the rose petal chair and closed her eyes. She retreated into her mind to contact the dreamer Nara had mentioned. As she did, she left her body to enjoy the peaceful warmth of a day unspoiled by the harsh sunlight of the beach on Earth where her dreamer lay sunbathing.

  Analia found the passageway she sought and projected herself through it. The human woman felt her presence; her thoughts stilled.

  Analia considered her next step. Carefully, she constructed a picture of Nara and Leo in the cave between the worlds. She placed the image in the passageway, connected the verbal analog to the picture and waited.

  The woman on Earth saw the image and heard the words. She looked around but no one was nearby except a teen-aged boy playing a solitary game of catch. Again, she heard Analia’s words, as if a play had begun in her mind.

  “You are looking wonderful, Leo.”

  “And you. Rather formal tonight, aren't you?”

  “Tonight is special.”

  From the passageway, Analia smiled. She had placed only one picture from her memory bank, but the dreamer had used it to access others. She saw, and there was no mistaking her enthusiasm.

  Analia withdrew from her dreamer and returned her awareness to her garden. She opened her eyes. “You may call back your companions.”

  “We have seen your answer,” said Oak Woman. “And thank you for the effort you made to reach your decision. Where will you begin your story, Analia of Verdallon?”

  Analia considered. After a time she said, “My story begins and ends with Leo, who roamed my dreams long before I met him, but it was Valerie who brought everything into focus.”

  Oak Woman rustled her leaves. “I have decided to stay for the telling. I will be your witness.”

  Analia looked up, but the tree had sprouted more leaves, so it was impossible to see beyond her first set of branches.

  “I am glad for the company and the chance to use my garden.”

  “Tell me about Valerie.”

  Analia turned her mind toward Earth. “When she arrived on Larreta, she came a full year early.”

  “Was she called?”

  “She was. When she was still on Earth, she knew someone called her, but not who and certainly not from where. It was a great shock when she found herself floating in the Sea of Larreta.”

  “Was that in the time of the crisis?”

  “The crisis on Larreta had begun earlier. Leo still grieved from the loss of his student to the first time rift to strike Larreta. He wanted to return to Earth, but Nara forbade it.”

  “Interesting,” said Oak Woman. “So Valerie was anxious to get to Larreta and Leo was anxious to leave.”

  “Yes. The first problem was that as soon as she arrived, Valerie found she feared what she had most desired.”

  “I have heard that of humans.”

  Analia sighed. “It’s true. We—they are full of contradictions. When Valerie and Leo met, she did not care for him, and there was doubt about whether they could perform their roles. In the beginning, I was not confident.”

  A g
ust of wind moved down Oak Woman’s trunk and blew Analia’s hair across her face.

  “All newcomers tremble,” whispered the wind.

  The Dreamwalkers of Larreta

  The dreamwalkers of Larreta journey to Earth to teach. Before they can teach, they must learn, for the worlds of density are far different from their home worlds. During their time on Earth, they learn, grow and develop themselves, as do all humans.

  When their education is complete, they notice a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning for what they left behind, and they begin the search for the doorway back to their homes. Some search for many lifetimes before they find a portal that leads to Larreta.

  The seers have always said there are many ways to find Larreta if it is your true destination, and that all true paths are clearly marked. The masters counseled those who sought wisdom to observe the steps, which each seer handed down to the next in line. Many said that when the seeker reached the top of the stair, the door would appear.

  Sometimes it did.

  On the other hand, in Valerie’s time, problems developed which caused confusion on Earth and Larreta.

  In the latter half of the twentieth century, spiritual seekers on Earth proliferated at a startling rate. Many were sincere. Some were dreamwalkers inciting others to reach for the ancient wisdom. Others imagined themselves enlightened long before their time. Distorted teachings, megalomania and drugs influenced many.

  These things were inconvenient, but not the problem.

  That arose when novice travelers who wandered in the desert emulating their forebears encountered a true portal. A related problem was that some true travelers, like Valerie, had forgotten they were traveling. It can be a tricky business, who finds the way home and who stays lost.

  This regrettable state of affairs caused much humor for beings like Radasam, the Guardian of the southwestern desert. The rest of us were often confused. It was a new era, after all, and we had to learn that not everyone with a knapsack on her back was necessarily seeking what she had lost.

  Valerie’s call was a true one, but that she did not know until she and her husband traveled to Albuquerque to visit his sister. On their way home, driving from Albuquerque to Phoenix so they could visit the prehistoric cultural sites that dotted the great southwestern desert, they ventured into the home territory of Radasam.

  He had been talking to Valerie in her dreams for more than a year.

  Her entry into his land delighted him no end.

  That Day in the Desert

  Are you coming?

  Valerie roused herself from the dream. The desert shimmered around the car, vast and empty as they drove west toward Flagstaff in the late afternoon heat. She felt the car’s vibration, heard the rhythmic sound of tires on asphalt, Peter’s thumbs tapping the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm as he droned on about the Indian ruins he wanted to visit.

  Valerie closed her eyes and tried to re-enter the dream where the voice had whispered of long-held promises.

  She knew that voice. She heard it at home when she walked alone on the beach in the morning. It beckoned her with everything she was missing—passion and excitement, the uncertainty of adventure. She stilled herself and waited.

  When it didn’t come, she glanced sideways at Peter. He always looked happy. Like a puppy. He never stopped talking, yet hadn’t noticed they ran out of things to say years ago.

  “Are you awake, Val?” Peter asked.

  “Barely. Why is it so hot?”

  “The AC conked out a while back. It’ll be dark soon and then it will cool down. We don’t have much farther to go.”

  To avoid his face, Valerie studied the landscape whipping by. “What is that black rock? It looks like a volcano erupted.”

  “It did. See those pointy hills in the distance? They were active volcanoes a few thousand years ago. The lava flow came all this way. I looked it up in the guidebook. If it weren’t so hot, we could stop and go for a hike.”

  “I don’t hike.”

  The sun touched the jagged peaks of the distant mountains, turning them golden red. In the fading light, the desert softened. A whisper tickled her right ear. Valerie shifted in her seat, alarmed at the sudden thought that the image from her dream was watching her from the mountain range, from a distance so great the car appeared to it as a speck of white inching along the ribbon of black asphalt.

  She couldn’t know that. She was just hot, tired and nervous about so much open space.

  Are you coming?

  She sat up straighter. The words echoed in her mind. She shook her head to dispel them and said to Peter, “How much farther will you drive tonight?”

  “I thought we’d turn off at Thoreau. Funny name. There’s got to be a story there. It’s the road to Farmington, so I figured there would be a motel. We can stay the night, then check out Chaco Canyon in the morning. We’ll still have time to get to Flagstaff for our flight tomorrow.”

  The sun fell behind the stone mountains in the west. In the east, the sky flushed pink against washed out blue.

  “It’s getting dark,” Valerie said. “We could go on to Gallup and come back tomorrow.”

  “Why go out of our way? It’ll be fine.”

  “If we head north, we’ll be driving into a reservation. There might be nowhere to stay.”

  Peter offered her his indulgent smile. “What are you so spooked about, hon? I thought you liked the desert. You loved Death Valley last year.”

  “In Death Valley, the air conditioning worked. In the room and the car. Not like this economy model. It must be a hundred degrees in here.”

  “It’s all they had, hon. You were there when I asked for an upgrade.”

  “I was there.” She leaned back against the plastic seat and closed her eyes. She hadn’t been honest with him, not for a long time. It was her fault he had no idea who she was. “Did you check for a place to stay tonight?”

  “No. I thought we were having an adventure.”

  Valerie looked into the deepening darkness. If she were anywhere but in this car, she wouldn’t have to listen to the sound of his voice.

  “Hey, here’s the road.” He sounded pleased. “It won’t be long now. Motels always have restaurants. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something.” He exited the interstate and swung onto a gravel road heading north. The motion flung Valerie against the door. A cloud of red dust rose.

  “Peter, turn on the lights. Please?”

  He switched on the headlights and pressed on the accelerator. The car sped up a hill into the night, cradled by the hot breath of the desert.

  ###

  Off the coast of the western shore, ten miles north of its destination and a mile out to sea, a gray whale broke the surface of the water, thrusting its upper body into the air to gauge its location. Air buffeted its head as it scanned the familiar rocks and contours of the land.

  All its life it had traveled this coastline, but tonight was different. Someone was coming, and it could not be late. The whale dove deep, into the colder currents that were its home. It swam faster as it approached the surface and thrust itself out of the water again.

  Before it crashed back into the sea, it had spied Valerie's car that appeared as two tiny points of light on the curving road that traversed the steep mountain. Satisfied that it was on schedule, it swung its flukes downward with a mighty thrust, propelling itself forward, eager to complete its mission and catch up with its mate and adolescent children before they reached the waters off the Coast House.

  ###

  As daylight faded, the red spirit of the southwestern desert draped itself over a mountaintop, so when Valerie looked ahead, she saw the image from her dream. Fascinated, she watched as the image wound its amorphous form around dark jagged peaks, finally appearing like a necklace of shining rubies.

  At the top, the red shape thickened. A head appeared, then shiny black eyes. An arm separated from the body and pointed at the desert floor.

  The voice thundered
, filling her mind. Are you coming?

  Where are you? She answered mentally, without making an outward sign.

  Valerie stared inward and outward, poised in the center of herself. She saw the red creature in both places and sensed the power that had answered her desperate call.

  She wanted to dive so deep she would never have to explain to Peter why she didn’t blame him for the failure of the marriage of convenience they both agreed was practical when they were young. Her parents had raised her to be married, conventional, obedient. Peter had seemed a good idea when she was twenty.

  “Are you okay?” His hand was on her shoulder.

  “Just tired.”

  “I know you’re not happy, Val. I do notice things.”

  She glanced at him. “Peter, you’re a good man. You’ve given me everything I’ve asked for.”

  “Except kids.”

  “Yes.”

  “We should have adopted. I know that now. It isn’t too late. We could try.”

  It isn’t that. I’m not young anymore and I don’t love anyone and something is calling me. If I don’t answer, what will I do for the rest of my life?

  Time is short. Are you coming?

  Yes, she breathed. Where are you?

  Go to the edge of the circle and wait.

  Peter rested his right hand on her shoulder. He stroked her hair. She shrugged him off and pressed herself against the window.

  He leaned toward her.

  “No,” she said. Her voice, louder than she intended, echoed.

  Peter lost control of the car. It swerved around another steep curve and headed into the desert, soaring off the road and landing hard on sand. It bumped over rocks. She braced herself against the dash, but the sand slowed the car’s speed and when it hit something solid, the impact was mild. Her seat belt tightened against her chest, then relaxed.

  “Val, are you hurt?” Peter looked shaken, but the adrenaline coursing through her was due to excitement.

  “I'm fine. Turn on the lights.”

  He fumbled with buttons. “No lights. We’re off the road. Stay here. I'll get out and look around.”

  “The headlights are gone, Peter. What can you see?”