There was a hollow phosphorescence hanging on the surrounding landscape. I shivered as my eyes focused where the cold light lay on a decrepit wrought iron fence immediately in front of me. The rusted old barricade contained a single gravestone, all chipped and covered with mildew and lichen. The marker was almost entirely swallowed by a snarl of thorny vines. It tilted sideways, threatening to capsize as the roots pushed mercilessly from below.
A deep, frozen terror was building in my stomach. I held it down as I lifted the latch on the gate and walked into the small compound. I knelt in front of the grave and tried to read the inscription on the stone. As I brushed the surface with my fingers, trying to scrape away the lichen that obscured the worn epitath, I came too close to one of the thorns and felt a sharp pain in my finger. I jerked my hand back and holding my wrist somewhat shakily, examined the cut.
A single drop of blood formed on my index finger. I put the finger to my lips and sucked away the salty fluid. As I did so, it began to bleed more profusely. My finger began to gush so copiously that that my mouth filled with blood. It forced open my lips and ran down my chin. I tried to form a tourniquet with my other hand to no avail. The gore was flooding out of my finger, running down my chest and lap and splattering all over the dried grass and briar. I began to panic, thinking I would bleed to death. Still the flow continued unabated. It ran like water from a hose. I jumped up screaming and waved my wrist in the air madly, blood spewing in all directions.
Wildly I called out, "Stop! I don't have any more. There's no more left!"
Still the flood gushed onto the landscape, covering the gravestone and the ragged metal fence. Blood splashed onto the withered trunk of the old tree, washing in torrents over the rotting root structure and covering the landscape. My blood, the blood of my father and his father...the very life of all my ancestors poured out, converting the hollow landscape into a ghastly field of war. Corpses writhed and screamed in pain and horror.
Atrocities more horrible than anything I could imagine shattered limbs and body parts. Cruel torturers, covered in dried gore, stood with their hands in the bowels of the innocent, a powerfully sexual edge to their laughter. Malevolent political leaders condemned millions to death and starvation without thought or concern. Wealthy, well dressed merchants amused themselves by watching as children died from the lack of a crust of bread, then kicked the grasping fingers from the edge of their robes and walked away. Every cruelty, every horror, every twisted, diseased act in the history of man displayed itself before me. I stood transfixed, past fear, past pain, past revulsion. A slow anger mounted in the pit of my stomach. I breath in. The foul atmosphere gurgled down my throat.
"Stop." I said
They all looked up for a second...then went back to their vicious occupations. I inhaled again, this time the fetid air rushed into my lungs in torrents, like the intake of a huge bellows. I screamed like a cadre of trumpeters.
"STOP!"
They looked up startled, dropping their implements of death and torture, a look of confusion and fear in their eyes. I opened my mouth again and a single note erupted from my throat, tearing a swath through their ranks like a lighting bolt. They backed up in surprise. I felt a rush of righteous power. I prepared to strike again but before I could open my mouth, I noticed they were looking behind me.
I turned and saw the children coming. The were walking towards me from over the horizen, millions of them. The sky was dark with immense flocks of birds flying above them. Mixed in their numbers were all the animals of the earth, foot and claw, hoof and paw, they marched together and from them all came the same clear note, a single trumpet call that shattered the evil before them like imperfect glass.
As I watched this awesome scene, a single golden bird detached itself from the flocks and fluttered lightly onto a limb of the old tree above me. As the ocean of children washed away the blood and horror, I felt a great calm and sat on the ground, now alive with new growth and looked up into the tree. Fresh sprigs were popping out of the old limbs, infant leaves springing up to meet the sunlight falling from the clearing sky. I looked at the golden bird, its feathers glowing in the new fallen light. It sparkled and gleamed as if it were a sliver of the sun itself.
As I stared in rapt wonder, the bird leaned off the limb where it rested and flew directly at my face. I recoiled and threw out my hands to protect myself but was too late. The tiny bird hit me full in my right eye, splashing on my consciousness with an explosion of light. I fell back on the ground.
As my vision cleared, I looked in wonder at the world. Each leaf and stone, each cloud and breeze seemed an expression of a brilliant and magical whole. I crawled onto my knees and stroked the tops of the grass, marveling at the miracles below me. Fresh, new living things sprouted everywhere, Stretching upward towards the lifegiving sun.
I picked up a tiny insect and laughed in astonishment and surprise at the unbelievable phenomenon of his locomotion. He sprang off my finger and back into the wonderland at my feet. Several animals milled around me on the meadow. I knew them in some impossible way. I shared some bond that left us all safe, comfortable and unwary. Looking over the radiant landscape, I felt the presence of billions and billions of minds bonded in love and common purpose. In this state of boundless and inexplicable joy, I sprang to my feet and cried aloud, my heart bursting with passion and delight.
I cantered across the countryside like a young colt, jumping and tumbling, my body feeling young and powerful, celebration coming from every pore. As I passed a small wood, a naked little black boy stepped out from behind an immense chinaberry tree. He walked up to me, his eyes filled with affection, and touched my cheek. I felt his selfless love and admiration for me.
"Now you understand." he said. "Now you understand."
I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee coming from the kitchen. I lay in my bed for a while, resting and wondering, relishing the dream.
"Yes," I thought, "Now I understand."
I threw off the covers and walked into the bathroom to take my shower. As the cold water hit me I sorted through the circumstances of the new life that stood before me. I had been changed by the events of the past sixteen hours.
By the time I finished my bath, shaved and dressed, I was pretty clear about one thing...I had no idea what to do next. On the other hand, I had a pretty good idea that whatever it was, it was going to create a disruption in my family.
When I first met Jessie in 1971, she was about as unmaterialistic as you can get. After all, that was the hip way to be. I was unmaterialistic too. Why not, I could live off school loans and handouts from my parents. No job? No problem.
These days, my darling wife is a professional woman who appreciates the finer things. She is the managing partner of a small but lethal downtown law firm. Jessie's a nice lady, but if you cross her she can hand you your family jewels on a silver platter in such a way that you know it's only the first course. I was a little apprehensive, to say the least, about the conversation I knew was coming. I'm a big guy. At 6'6" and weighing about 230, I don't need to be scared of most things, but Jessie...well Jessie scares me to death.
I was a little concerned she might not understand when I told her I was closing my business to go watch an alien inspired children's rebellion I knew was coming due to advance information I received from my invisible "imaginary friend". Women can be so conventional about things.
"Mornin' Sugar" I said as I walked into the kitchen. I'm the only male she allows the indulgence of traditional female nicknames. Her law partners love to tell stories about various chauvenistic legal types who have dared to address her as "Honey or Sweetheart" and found out how un"sweet" she can be. The woman makes allowances for me. I appreciate that.
"Good Morning," she looked at me quizzically after pulling the bagels out of the oven. "How are you feeling?"
"Great, fine, awesome!" I embarrassed myself with my nervous overeaction. Now she'd be on me like mosquitos at a beach party. I walked into the living room and put Stevie Wonder on the stereo, Songs in the Key of Life, then walked back into the kitchen.
She poured some coffee for us both. I knew I was trapped. Much as I wanted to, I knew there was no dodging her.
"So tell me," she said "what's going on?"
I was doomed. I spilled my guts like a twelve year old caught with a girly magazine. I told her everything, the naked little black boy, the fainting on the playground, the scab on my fist, the sitting place, the visit in the parking lot and the dream. I said I knew it sounded crazy but I had to go with it. I said I wasn't sick, I knew it wasn't a hallucination and I wasn't any crazier than I had ever been. She rolled her eyes at that one...a good sign. I could tell I was scaring her but so far she hadn't made her mind up that I had flipped out or she wouldn't have shown any reaction at all.
From time to time she asked questions, particularly about my conversations with my imaginary friend. I answered as best I could. Parts of the conversation on the playground were cloudy. It was odd, something else seemed to be on her mind. After a while I asked her.
"Is something else bothering you Jess?"
"This is so crazy." She began. I started to defend myself. "No, I don't mean your story, it's Joseph..."
I didn't see what our youngest had to do with this conversation. "What about Joey?" I asked.
"He..." she looked distressed "he has a...friend too. I thought he was having emotional problems, I didn't want to tell you about it. He just started talking about it yesterday but he won't give it up. He says we have to leave." She burst into tears. "I was so upset, I could barely sleep last night. I thought he was sick."
"Of course," I thought "Joey's only five, he would get a friend." Yet it shook me to think that kind of intrusion could happen to my own child. Somehow it felt as if he was being taken away from me. It also tore once again at my sense of order. If Joey had a friend too, how could it all be a delusion. It meant this was really happening. I couldn't very well make up a friend for Joey no matter how wild my imagination got.
"Curiouser and curiouser." I thought. I walked over and held Jessie in my arms 'till she stopped shaking. I handed her a tissue and poured her another cup of coffee.
"What do you mean, he says we have to leave." I asked.
"His friend says there will be trouble here. He says we have to leave the city...go somewhere where we'll be safe. Joseph says it's someplace by a cave and a waterfall. He says many of the children will go there. He says they will need us...My God Tom, how can this be happening." She was hyperventilating.
"It's really real mom." Joey was standing in the doorway with our monster golden retriever Jubal Harshaw Rappaport. Our son had the strangest look on his face. "Did you know Jubie can talk?"
Jessie blinked at Joey like he had sprouted horns or announced he was pregnant and began to weave back and forth holding her breath. I was afraid it was her turn to pass out. I should have known; she's tougher than me.
"Thomas," she gasped as she darted from the room. "I have to get dressed. Would you pour the juice?"
