The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

Learning how to dreamwalk

         

After a small lunch—some dried apple and walnuts—again, a veritable feast for me—we got back in the boat and rowed away, continuing along the coast towards Esquimalt. After an hour or two, we arrived at a deserted campground in a beautiful, sheltered lagoon. Blue Jay had obviously been here before, because there was plenty of firewood stacked neatly under an abandoned log cabin.

"I used to come here a few times a year when I was a kid," he seemed to explain, as if I was looking for an explanation. "Being so beautiful and close to the city, it was always fully reserved." He held his hands out and surveyed the entire campground, grown wild and lush—"Now it's all ours."

"So this is where we're going to camp tonight?"

He nodded. "If it's agreeable to you.

I looked around—it was quiet, secure and sheltered from the wind. And it was beautiful. I nodded, and Blue Jay got to work, building a fire.

We ate dinner—some fish that Blue Jay caught from the shore cooked on the campfire, and more bread with jam for dessert. By the time we finished eating, the sun was setting and I realised I'd been alone with him the entire day and he hadn't gotten on my nerves once. I couldn't remember the last time something like that had happened. I felt comfortable around him. Natural. Iwasn't constantly wondering what he was thinking or if he was lying or what he thought about me.

It was easy to be around him—and I leaned back—in a chair he'd built and watched the sunset with a feeling of joy in my heart. Pure joy.

When it was fully dark, and the starts were bright in the sky and the new crescent moon was a cup in the sky catching venus, Blue Jay started to talk.

"You might think that I wanted to show you the books today because I wanted to convince you, but really, I just wanted you to see it with your own eyes. Everything that is happening right now is an important part of history. The Family will write their own version of history, and we will write ours. And you—," he turned to look at me—we were sitting side by side, so only one half of his face was visible to me, but what I could see was serious and dramatically lit. "You're the key to preserving our version of history."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Do you know anyone else who can write in complete sentences?" he chuckled.

I caught his drift and laughed.

"Future you told me that Imorah has a book—an old book—a very old book—and I, I mean, we—future you and I—believe you are the author."

"Me—what kind of book?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense." He talked as if he wasn't quite sure.

"Well, what's the book about?

"That's the thing—we don't know. It's in a strange language. No one can read it. But you—you told me once it's Kwa'Kwallah, the language of my people."

"Kwa'kwallah—that's one of the West Coast languages—Northern Salish, right?"

"Yes, exactly. That's the language of the Klahoose—you know it?"

"No, I don't. I just know of it. I used to live on Cortes Island."

Blue Jay nodded. "I know."

I let out an exasperated breath of air. "You know this and htat about me—you know so much about me—but that dream person you know—you're married to—that's not me!" I cried. "That's not me, you understand?"

Blue Jay said nothing, but continued looking in the fire.

"Listen to me! We might have some things in common, but that woman is not me." I jabbed my stick at the fire, pushing over a log and sending sparks flying. As the fire roared to life, our faces were illuminated—and try as I might, I could not be mad at him. I wanted to put him in his place, crawl out from under the weight of his expectations and hopes and fears—but he wasn't Michael, and he wasn't Money or Nicole. He wasn't a child and I couldn't boss him around.