The tranquil sounds of the Northwoods magnified his calm. Crickets and frogs chirped a soothing symphony, with the occasional owl adding to the chorus.
“Okay,” Joshua whispered to his friends, “it’s time.”
As Joshua gazed at the manitous shining down on him from the heavens, he shouted out his incantation to the sky spirits in a solemn and commanding tone. “Oh great Manitous of the Northwoods! Here, under Father Sky and Mother Earth, on the continent that is Turtle Island—”
“Dude, what are you doing?” Mokwa whispered incredulously, interrupting Joshua’s attempt at a formal prayer.
“I’m incubating a dream,” Joshua said, aggravated by the interruption. It took long enough to set the mood the first time, and he didn’t want to go through all of that again.
“You really are new to this?” Mokwa said, not giving in.
“What’s wrong?” Joshua said. A moment of self-doubt flickered through him. While he had dreaming down, he was in fact still quite new to Ojibwe rituals and prayers. Maybe he should listen to Mokwa.
“Just tone it down a bit,” Mokwa said. He obviously didn’t want to give a full critique at the moment.
“Fine,” Joshua said. He took in a deep breath and continued. “Great Spirit, I command you to give me a vision about—”
This time it was Little Deer who interrupted. He had been listening patiently, but he had to chime in. And in his typical stoic manner, he said, “You don’t command the Great Spirit.”
“Fine, what do I do?” Joshua asked, increasingly desperate.
“You ask for a vision. Be humble,” Mokwa informed him firmly, agreeing with Little Deer.
Once again Joshua took in a deep breath and released it. “Great Spirit, this is Joshua—”
“No, use your real name. Pukawiss,” Mokwa said.
Joshua took in another deep breath, this time sounding as though he were panting. “Great Spirit, this is Puka—”
“No, he already knows who it is,” Little Deer said, disagreeing with Mokwa.
“Yeah, that’s true. Good point, Little Deer. High Five.” Mokwa reached up over Joshua and high fived Little Deer. Their hands crashed, making a thunderous clap directly over his head.
“Do you mind!” Joshua shouted, annoyed with his two friends. He almost commanded the two to join the interns at their campsite. But he calmed himself down once again, while Mokwa and Little Deer settled back into their sleeping bags, this time remaining quiet.
With all the self-confidence drained from him, Joshua simply spoke from the heart, repeating whatever came to his mind first. “Great Spirit, um, manitous, please send me a dream to get me out of….” he paused for a moment to consider the rest. “…this mess.” Joshua was silent as he waited for Mokwa and Little Deer to disapprove once again. But they said nothing. They just stared at the stars. Finally, it was Joshua who interrupted the silence. “So, that one you liked?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, that was good,” Mokwa said, nodding his head in genuine approval.
“Nailed it,” Little Deer agreed.
Joshua smiled, satisfied with the response. “Did you hear that, Pywacky?” he whispered to his furry pal, who was curled up by his feet. “I nailed it.”
Pywacky looked up for a moment, before returning to the infinitely more interesting and important matter of grooming himself. Joshua smiled and lay back down. He gazed up at the stars, as if expecting to hear a voice from the heavens, or witness some kind of sign, anything that would guide him through his dilemma. After a few seconds, he looked over to Mokwa and said, “So when do I get a response?”
“I think you’re just supposed to sleep now,” Mokwa said.
“Just great,” Joshua said, as an all too familiar sensation overcame him. He dug himself out of his sleeping bag in frustration and walked toward the forest at a furious pace.
“Where are you going?” Mokwa asked incredulously.
“I have to take a fucking piss!” he yelled back, loud enough for any manitous to hear.
Pywacky darted after him.
“JOSHUA!” A voice shouted to him amidst an orchestra of nocturnal sounds, reverberating from deep within the depths of the dark forest beyond the village.
The voice startled Joshua, after he had finally calmed himself down for a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t so much the strangeness of hearing a voice from deep within the forest. Rather, it was because he hadn’t heard his birth name pronounced in quite some time. He was used to being called “Pukawiss” at this point. And before that, his friends at camp had nicknamed him “Red Feather.” Only his mother still used “Joshua.” And Pastor Martin too.
“Joshua!” the voice called again, this time louder, as if crying out in pain. “Please, help me.”
Joshua sat up, his eyes now wide open. Did it work? He looked around, observing everything in his immediate vicinity, looking for anything that might look dreamlike. He first observed that Mokwa and Little Deer were gone. And Pywacky sat by his legs staring intently at the forest toward the mysterious voice. Am I dreaming? But it didn’t feel like a dream. Most of his dreams took place somewhere else. But this was exactly where he had gone to sleep.
He looked straight up, and saw that the stars were gone, blanketed now by an intense darkness, lit up occasionally by fearsome sheets of lightning. The crickets and frogs suddenly quieted down, and other than the strange voice, he heard no other sounds.
“I don’t have much time left,” the voice cried out to Joshua, now getting softer.
Joshua rotated his head to the left and right, desperately trying to localize the voice. But he couldn’t. All he could tell is that it was coming from deep within the forest, far beyond the village.
“I love you, Joshua,” the voice announced.
Only then did Joshua realize what he should have detected from the very beginning. He knew that voice. He recognized it quite well in fact. It was someone he had thought about on and off throughout the summer, someone with whom he was furious. I love you, Joshua? He reviewed the voice intently, wanting to be sure. But there was no mistaking it. The mysterious voice was that of his father.
Joshua couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen his father since the beginning of the summer, right before Joshua had been taken to the reservation by his mother. She had just left for work for the day and had informed his father she was going to be back late. It was a normal part of her routine. She worked as a desk attendant in a local motel, and she was often able to pick up extra hours during peak seasons. And summer was a very busy season in Eagle River, as campers flocked to the area. Joshua had talked to his father that early summer morning right after she left for work, and right before Joshua went off skateboarding for the day. He had sensed that his father wanted to talk to him about something but then changed the subject to camping, promising to take Joshua out into the surrounding forests sometime soon. Joshua enjoyed the times he spent camping with his father and had been looking forward to it. His mother hated camping and never joined them. It was a chance for Joshua to be alone with his dad, just the two of them. It had been an agreeable enough conversation. Certainly there had been no indication that his father was about to abandon him for good, leaving him alone with his mother.
“I did it for you, Joshua,” the voice said, answering Joshua’s concerns. “Please forgive me, son.”
Joshua awoke and sat up in his sleeping bag, frantically scanning his surroundings, hoping to detect some sign of the voice. But everything was different now. Beautiful colors danced at the edge of the lake, as if anticipating the sun’s morning journey across the sky. It was almost morning. It had all been a dream.
“Dude, did you get a message?” Mokwa asked. Mokwa looked wide awake, as though he had been waiting on Joshua for hours. He propped his head up with his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “Bro, what did you dream?”
“I don’t know,” Joshua said. “I’m… I’m not sure.”
“Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.
You can tell us all about it.” Mokwa got up and beckoned for Joshua to follow. Little Deer was also up and sitting quietly by the lake, waiting for Joshua to rise for the day.
“Okay,” Joshua said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He folded up his sleeping bag and brought it with him. Only then did he detect the chill in the air and wished he had more than shorts on. Pywacky was nowhere to be seen. Probably off looking for that chipmunk, Joshua reasoned as he followed his friends down the trail to the Trading Post.
His father haunted his thoughts the entire way. Joshua had been so concerned about his own predicament, caught up in his own world, that he had forgotten about his father. Maybe it simply hurt too much. It was painful to have someone you cared for just abandon you without word or explanation. Joshua felt as though his father didn’t care about him. Worse, in fact, as Joshua thought about it some more, it was as though everything that ever happened between the two of them was all a lie. The times Joshua had spent with his father had mattered to him, but obviously they hadn’t mattered to his father.
I did it for you, the dream voice had said to him. Joshua again reviewed it in his mind, searching for a clue. But how could that be? What did it mean? And why was his father calling for help? Was he in trouble? Joshua’s dream was supposed to give him answers. Instead, as always, he had only questions.
A loud “meow” interrupted his thoughts. Joshua turned around and saw Pywacky anxiously trying to catch up with him.
“Come on,” Joshua called, slowing down his pace. Pywacky approached and leaped into Joshua’s arms, purring softly, and Joshua carried him with them to the Trading Post.
AS JOSHUA arrived at the Trading Post with Little Deer and Mokwa, he was surprised to discover that Black Crow, Kiwi, Jenny, and Gentle Eagle were already there waiting for him. It couldn’t have been any later than 7:00 a.m., so the group was obviously excited about what Joshua had dreamt. Once again, he was overwhelmed by self-doubts. He wanted to impress his friends, but all he had to offer were vague and confusing thoughts.
“Pukawiss!” Black Crow shouted, as he saw Joshua coming to join them at the picnic table. He motioned for Joshua to sit next to him. He quickly placed a paper plate on the table for him and loaded it with pancakes Jenny had made for them. “So how are the manitous going to get you out of this?”
“Syrup?” Jenny said as she poured it over Joshua’s pancakes.
“I’m not sure exactly,” Joshua said meekly. He didn’t intend to sound so indecisive, but it’s what came out. “Stop!” he shouted, as he saw the flood of syrup running off the monster stack on his plate.
“Well, what did you see?” Black Crow pressed, as though looking for anything that he could try to interpret.
“It’s maple,” Jenny said. “Made it right here on the Rez.”
Joshua ignored Jenny as he attempted to focus on his dreams. He sat anxiously, fidgeting a bit as he did so, frustrated by the enigmatic messages of the manitous, if that’s even what they were. “I didn’t see anything really,” he finally said. “It’s more what I heard, I guess.”
“I said it before and I’m saying it again. Pukawiss, your dreams are lame,” Mokwa said.
“Yeah,” Little Deer agreed.
“No, I mean, I heard something, in my dreams. A message, maybe.”
Black Crow looked impressed. “Dude, voices! That’s so hard core!”
“What did they say?” Jenny asked, looking intrigued.
“It was just one person,” Joshua said.
“What did she say?”
“No, it was a he.”
“Dude, are you going to play twenty lame answers all day, or are you going to tell us what he said?” Mokwa asked.
Mokwa was only teasing whenever he mocked Joshua’s dreams, but Joshua wasn’t amused. The stakes were too high right now. “It was my father, I think. It was his voice, calling to me from the woods. He said he needed me, my help. He was in trouble, I think. I don’t know.”
“So what does this have to do with helping you out of this mess you’re in?” Mokwa asked.
“Mokwa!” Jenny chided.
“What? I’m just saying. Sheesh.”
“I don’t know what it means,” Joshua said. “Maybe I need more sleep.”
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Old Man. What do you think?” Mokwa asked as Gentle Eagle carefully listened to Joshua, as though reflecting upon every word.
He answered calmly. “I think my son is in danger, and I think only Joshua can help him.”
Mokwa looked frustrated and Joshua understood why. Mokwa wanted him to stay on the reservation. And Joshua’s dreams were supposed to provide a plan that would allow that to happen. Instead, his dream had focused on his father’s problems. Joshua was running out of time. His mother would be dragging him back to Rockford really soon, probably at the end of the day.
Mokwa looked rather gloomy. “But Pukawiss is leaving,” he said to Gentle Eagle. “There’s nothing here that will help him. As soon as Pastor Martin calls his mother, she’ll come and take him away again.”
Only then did Joshua understand that teasing was Mokwa’s way of handling difficult situations. The more he joked, the more concerned he really was.
“So that gives us about a day to read the clues,” Gentle Eagle said.
“What clues exactly?” Mokwa asked. “All we know is that Pukawiss heard a voice in the woods.” Mokwa paused as if considering the details further. “A voice from his father.”
Suddenly a car flew into the parking lot. Who is that? Joshua wondered, realizing that Black Crow was already present. His mind raced for an explanation. Who else did he know that would drive like a crazy person? No! Joshua panicked as he realized who it was.
“How obnoxious,” Black Crow said, reacting to the sound as though unaware of the irony.
Joshua’s heart sank as he detected the occupants in the car, confirming his worst fears. Catherine, his mother, was driving, and Pastor Martin, his nemesis, sat right next to her.
“Joshua!” his mother screamed. Birds flew from the trees in anticipation of the approaching storm. She approached hysterically, her eyes fixated on Joshua the entire time. She looked terrible, exhausted from driving all night, and her clothes were wrinkled, as though she hadn’t changed before leaving. “You are in so much trouble!” she shouted. “How many times do I have to drag you away from this godforsaken place?” Pastor Martin tried to keep up with her, looking embarrassed as he did so. His face showed a sense of shame at having betrayed Gentle Eagle’s trust.
Only Gentle Eagle dared respond to her as she arrived at the picnic table. “Catherine,” Gentle Eagle said, as if getting ready to explain everything.
“Don’t you even try to explain, or I’ll slap you, I swear I will!” Her words sprayed out like venom intended to sting and paralyze her enemies.
It was Joshua’s turn to attempt reasoning with the beast. “Mother, I can’t go back yet. You don’t understand what happened,” he said, desperate to plead his case.
Pywacky leapt from his arms as Catherine got uncomfortably close. He hit the ground running, darting for the trail, obviously wanting to distance himself from the disturbing commotion. Once in the forest, he turned around, sat, and cautiously observed the argument from a nearby tree.
“I think I understand just fine,” his mother barked, completely uninterested in anything that resembled a reasonable explanation. “You will come with me! Now!”
Joshua couldn’t submit that quickly. If only he could make her understand the stakes. He had to get right to the point. When his mother acted like this, he only had a small window of opportunity with which to work. “No, Mom, you don’t understand. It’s Dad. He’s in trouble. I dreamt it!” As Joshua let that last part out, he already wished he could take it back. Why did I mention my dreams!
Catherine looked horrified. Joshua recognized her scornful expression. She disapproved of anything resembling magic or sorcery. He had learned that lesson the hard way when she had once
grounded him for a whole month for bringing a Harry Potter book home from the library. Magic was the realm of the devil to her, and psychic dreams certainly fit into that category. If she believed Joshua was getting messages from his dreams, she would never listen to him. And then what would become of his father?
“You will not spend another second at this abominable place. Get in the car!” She grabbed Joshua by the arm, attempting to drag him toward the parking lot. Joshua pushed his feet into the ground, desperately trying to dig in. He was shocked at how strong his mother was.
“Mother!” Joshua resisted, frantically trying to get her to listen. “My dreams always come true. Don’t you get it? Dad is in troub—”
Catherine slapped Joshua hard across the face. It wasn’t the first time she had done that. It was the inevitable response to his stubborn misbehavior, her last resort whenever he refused to give in on an argument. So it didn’t catch him off guard. But something unexpected did take place. Pywacky came charging straight at his mother, leaving behind the safety of his forest sanctuary. Joshua saw only a gray blur as it leaped into the air and landed on his mother’s back, clawing and hissing a barrage of warnings and threats in the only language it understood. Startled, distracted, and horrified, Catherine reached around and grabbed Pywacky by the neck. She gripped him hard and shouted, “You stupid, worthless animal!” As she screamed, she threw Pywacky violently toward the ground.
Pywacky smashed into the decorative stones that bordered the picnic area, letting out a desperate cry as he darted once again to the forest, limping slightly as he did so. He didn’t turn around this time to observe the fight. He fled into the safety of the forest, instantly disappearing from view.
It was Joshua’s turn to bear a horrified expression, as he witnessed his mother commit such a monstrous act. She didn’t care that his father was in danger. She didn’t care that she had just heartlessly abused a harmless creature. And she didn’t care that her only son had experienced a traumatic emotional experience from the death he witnessed at camp. All she cared about was her mindless obedience to a Bible she didn’t even bother to understand. As he stood there in shock, he knew what he had to do. It was instinctive at this point, as he had done the same thing only a few weeks before. He needed to get as far away from her as he possibly could, beyond the reach of the monstrous beast that called itself his mother.
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