In this dream, I drift slowly down the center of a narrow stream. My raft is small, and the mist that surrounds me is so heavy that I can hardly see beyond my reach. The same night sounds that once sang to my ancestors also sang to me. They link past to present, as my thoughts roam the crowded aisles of my imagination.
There are two companions at my side, not on my raft, but walking along the shores to my left and right. I can faintly see them, their ghostly silhouettes moving eerily at the pace of my raft. They rival each other, each trying to lure me to either side.
The figure to my right is aggressive. He offers me incentives to end what he calls my journey, and dock on his side. The figure to my left is quiet; and he has a calm demeanor. He cautions me; saying that once I dock on either side, I cannot reenter the stream. I remain on my raft, still drifting, and unsure of what will come.
In the distance, beyond the figure to my right, hillsides began to form. I gaze intently at them, and still my companions appear cloudy.
“Some of your relatives are beyond those hills,” the figure to my right announced, “You can visit with them after you dock.”
I focus harder on the background and realize that the figure to my right is not alone. There are shadows moving behind him. Creepy, and silently, they go about their business.
“Let me see them first,” I say, “Bring them closer.”
“No!” he said, “First you must dock. Then you’ll see everything.” His voice was agitated. Then he calms himself enough to offer me more incentives.
The figure to my left had been quiet, but then interrupts. “Look forward,” he said, “Notice that the river is becoming narrow. It will eventually end, and you must choose before then.”
I look forward, and indeed the river is growing narrow under the night skies. I cannot see where it ends – and while I have not yet decided, I continue to drift forward.