Onwaachige the Dreamer

by Jay Jordan Hawke

  “Good night, Catherine,” he whispered, as Catherine lay down on the cot. He covered her with a blanket, kissing her gently one last time on the cheek before closing the door quietly behind him.

  PASTOR MARTIN returned to the picnic tables where Gentle Eagle and Jenny were discussing the three boys.

  “Is she sleeping now?” Gentle Eagle asked.

  “Comfortably and quietly. But she is understandably concerned about Joshua. Do we need to contact the authorities?” he said, sounding worried himself.

  “They know how to survive in the woods,” Jenny said, confident not only of Mokwa, but of her little brother as well.

  “Sure, they’ve been camping before, but this is different,” Pastor Martin said.

  Gentle Eagle considered Pastor Martin’s words before speaking. “They have many helpers,” he finally said cryptically.

  “Helpers?”

  “Yes, the manitous, perhaps even the Memegwesi. Many helpers. Joshua is sensitive to them.”

  Pastor Martin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was one thing for these Native Americans to use smudge sticks and call out to the great spirits. That was all fine when ritual was involved. But lives were on the line now. And to actually depend on something that was make-believe seemed reckless. “Oh come now, please, Gentle Eagle, tell me you don’t honestly believe in the Memegwesi?” He had heard many legends associated with them, the strange and enigmatic Little People, as they were often called.

  “So, you’ve heard of them?”

  Pastor Martin thought for a moment. “Yes, of course I have. I’ve been on the reservation for a very long time you know. I’ve heard of all of your superstitions.” He was being insensitive, but he couldn’t help it. He had to make Gentle Eagle understand that these boys were in very real danger, and no manitous were going to protect them.

  “Then surely you know they will have helpers,” Gentle Eagle said, ignoring the slight.

  Pastor Martin decided to lay it all out on the line. “I’ve heard of the Little People, Bigfoot, Mermen, whatever you call them. Even that silly little lake panther of yours.”

  “I’m just talking about the Little People,” Gentle Eagle said.

  “Fine, the Memegwesi are said to live by the rocks near rivers and lakes, maybe ponds, I don’t know,” Pastor Martin said, as he recited from memory everything he had heard about them over the years. “They are tiny, about three, maybe four foot tall or so. They can turn invisible and shape-shift. So am I missing anything?” He rolled his eyes as he asked the question.

  “Go on,” Gentle Eagle pressed.

  Jenny listened intently, anxious to see where Gentle Eagle was going with this.

  “What else is there?” Pastor Martin asked, thinking he had exhausted the characteristics of the Little People. Then he remembered a bit more. “Oh, yes, they like to play tricks on people.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What about children?”

  Pastor Martin reviewed the stories he had heard. “Oh, well, they are rather fond of children. They are known to help lost ones find their way home again. Occasionally, they might even help some poor child find a new home, if he is being….” Pastor Martin paused for a moment as if he finally got Gentle Eagle’s point. “If he is being abused.”

  “Yes.”

  Pastor Martin didn’t like the implication that Catherine was abusing Joshua. Sure, she could be stubborn and stern, but abusive? He ignored the accusation, as he didn’t want to fight about it with Gentle Eagle while Catherine lay sleeping just inside the Trading Post. “Oh, please, Gentle Eagle. I’ve known you for decades, and I know you to be a very bright and reasonable man.”

  “I’ll take that. Thank you.”

  “So please, just tell me you don’t believe in all these superstitions.”

  “Do you believe in all the superstitions in your Bible?”

  Pastor Martin was genuinely perplexed. “What superstitions?”

  “Your God talks to Moses through a burning bush, let’s start with that one.”

  Pastor Martin instantly understood his point. There were numerous wild and fanciful miracles in his Bible. And to the nonbeliever they likely sounded crazy. But the difference between the two in Pastor Martin’s mind was that his crazy beliefs were actually true. But he couldn’t argue that. “Fine, you want to go there, then yes, I believe in miracles, and that one about Moses happened three thousand years ago, for Christ’s sake. It didn’t happen today, and I certainly wouldn’t expect a burning bush to guide those children out of the woods!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “My beliefs say miracles still occur,” Gentle Eagle said.

  Pastor Martin took in a deep breath to calm himself and looked up at the sky. It was time to bring this argument to an end. “Well, this is one instance where I hope you are right,” he said, still gazing upward. “Because those three boys are going to need a miracle with that storm approaching.” He pointed to the ominous dark clouds that had crept up on them.

  Gentle Eagle looked up to the sky. “Hmm, the thunderbirds look very angry today.”

  “Oh brother,” Pastor Martin said. “Look are you going to come with me to call the reservation cops in on this or not?” he said, getting back to the point.

  “Already did,” Gentle Eagle said, “while you were with Catherine.”

  Pastor Martin laughed. He and Gentle Eagle were on the same page after all.

  “What about those manitou helpers of yours?”

  “I’m fine with any help I can get, whether they be Little People or cops,” Gentle Eagle replied.

  Pastor Martin laughed again. “So what did the cops say? Are they going to send anyone out after them?”

  “Once the storm passes,” Gentle Eagle said. “Until then, I’m afraid, all we can do is sit here and wait.”

  “Little People,” Pastor Martin said under his breath. “Of all the….” He stopped himself, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to start up an argument with Gentle Eagle at this point.

  JOSHUA FELT increasingly anxious as the village receded farther and farther behind them. The forest floor was dense with vegetation, making it difficult to navigate. It was nothing like the easy, mulch-covered trails at the village. Mokwa, however, soon found a worn deer trail for them to follow, which made the journey a bit easier. Still, it was a journey without a known destination, and that made Joshua nervous. All he knew was that he wanted to find his father, but that might be impossible, surrounded as they were by the vast, unbounded enormity of the northern wilderness.

  Joshua had been in the forests of northern Wisconsin countless times before, so in many ways, things were familiar to him. He had been surrounded by them at his former home in Eagle River. He practically grew up in them, having camped with his father countless times. But the forest before him was entirely new. He didn’t know the terrain, and it was easy to get disoriented. All he had was a sense that behind him was the safety and comfort of the village, and somewhere up ahead, out there, amidst the towering oaks, pines, and birches, amongst the impossibly tangled foliage through which they were hiking, beyond the endless immensity of the Northwoods, somewhere, somehow, awaited his father. I’m such a fool, Joshua decided, trying to keep up with Mokwa’s quick pace. Voices in my dreams. I’m here because of voices in my dreams.

  “So, Pukawiss, now would be a good time to tell us where we’re going,” Mokwa said, sounding as good-natured as always.

  “Well,” Joshua said before pausing to consider. He wanted to sound confident, like he had a plan. “If we keep hiking, something will come to me. I think.” It sounded better in his thoughts, Joshua realized.

  “It’s a plan,” Mokwa said.

  “I guess,” Little Deer said, clearly not as excited about the plan. But he obviously trusted Mokwa, as well as Joshua, with his life. Both of them would do anything for him. It was comforting to have such loyal and trusting friends, but at the same time
it placed a burdensome responsibility on him. Whatever happened to his friends out there in the wilderness would be his fault. Suddenly, concern for his friends replaced any anxiety he had about his own safety.

  “Where are we?” Little Deer asked Mokwa. The question seemed insincere to Joshua. It was more like a statement, as if to say, I think we’re lost.

  “Come on, Little Deer. I know these woods like the back of my hand,” Mokwa said. His confidence was typically contagious, but not in this case.

  Little Deer challenged him. “So where are we, then?”

  Mokwa looked frustrated by the apparent defiance. “Look, it’s simple,” he explained. “Just a few miles north, we have Manitou River. We’re heading that way now. And we’re surrounded by ravines that feed into it, so we can’t possibly get lost. Then there are cliffs, and stuff,” he said, pointing to nowhere in particular. He looked increasingly disoriented as he focused on his argument.

  Little Deer eyed him quizzically.

  Joshua saw Mokwa’s self-confidence starting to drain. He was fine as long as no one challenged him, but if someone introduced the slightest bit of doubt, his coolness melted away. Still both Mokwa and Little Deer knew how to navigate the forests quite well. Having spent the entire summer learning survival skills from both of them, there was no one he’d rather be with alone in the woods—no one except maybe for his grandfather.

  “Manitou River it is, then,” Joshua said, thinking it sounded like a nice place to head. He hadn’t seen any river in his dreams, but the voice did come from that direction. At least I think it did, he decided, as he started to question his own thoughts.

  Mokwa walked ahead of Joshua confidently. After hiking only a few seconds, however, he turned around and said, “So, you guys hungry?”

  “We just left,” Little Deer said, annoyed.

  “Come on, Mokwa, just keep going,” Joshua pressed.

  “Fine, you guys are no fun.”

  “So how do we know we’re heading north toward Manitou River?” Joshua asked.

  “Easy. Look at the moss on the trees. It always grows on the north side of the trees.”

  “Not always,” Little Deer said, adding doubt to the claim.

  “True enough,” Mokwa said. “But mostly. And once night hits, we’ll see Polaris, the North Star. That’ll confirm the direction.”

  “We can’t see the stars in the forest,” Little Deer reminded him.

  “Bro, are you going to be in a snit the whole way? We’ll find an opening.”

  Little Deer said nothing as they kept hiking.

  “We’ve probably already gone at least a mile by now,” Mokwa said, stopping to look at Joshua. “Pukawiss, anything come to you yet? Manitou inspirations? Voices in your head? Anything?”

  All of Joshua’s self-doubts resurfaced. He didn’t want to let his friends down. He didn’t want to lead them farther into the woods aimlessly, with no destination in mind. But at the same time, he didn’t know where to go. His dreams had failed him. “No, I mean, I don’t know.” Joshua wanted to cry, but he dare not do so now.

  Mokwa put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder, comforting him as they started hiking again. “Hey Little Deer,” Mokwa said, trying to change the subject. “Maybe we can use that bow of yours to get some food.”

  “It’s not for hunting,” he said, sounding grumpy. “And I wasn’t in a snit.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re a vegetarian. And it sounded like a snit to me.”

  “If it’s not for animals, then why did you bring it?” Joshua asked.

  “For people,” Little Deer answered stoically.

  “Dude, you scare me sometimes,” Mokwa said.

  “What if we get attacked by a bear or something?” Joshua asked.

  “I’m not worried about animals,” Little Deer said.

  “Dude, there aren’t even any people out here,” Mokwa insisted.

  “That’s because I’ve got my bow,” Little Deer replied, satisfied with his response.

  Mokwa laughed and extended his other arm around Little Deer as the three hiked in unison. “Sorry about that snit comment,” Mokwa said, already feeling bad about it.

  “Shut up,” Little Deer replied.

  The situation amused Joshua. It was the most intense fight he had seen between the two of them all summer, and it had barely lasted a minute. Brotherly love had quickly reasserted itself.

  “Pukawiss, maybe when we get to Manitou River you can take a nap or something. You probably just need to dream for the manitous to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Joshua said, finding the suggestion agreeable. “I’ll try.” But he was increasingly convinced that this whole thing had been a bad idea. He had dragged his best friends into the Northwoods based solely on a dream. Granted, his dreams had been miraculously accurate so far, but this dream was different. He was putting his life on the line for it. Even worse, he was putting the lives of his friends on the line. It was an awesome responsibility to bear.

  But next to the self-doubts and the anxiety was a powerful and exhilarating sense of liberation. Certainly being away from civilization, out in the dark forest, could be quite terrifying. They were, after all, relying solely on their own resourcefulness and what little supplies they had brought with them. But Joshua felt increasingly confident that he had learned enough to survive out here, for a few days at least. And he had his friends with him to help. Their faith in Joshua helped him to find his own confidence. Maybe his dreams really were messages from the manitous. Maybe his father really was out there somewhere. Maybe Joshua could really lead his friends right to him. There was something very comforting about knowing that above and beyond the trials and tribulations of life, there was in fact a larger meaning and purpose to it all. So what if he didn’t know the entire plan? That simple cry for help he heard in his dreams hinted at a much larger world than people normally perceived, one that reached out to Joshua and noticed him. It was frightening and comforting at the same time. And with those contradictory thoughts, Joshua believed everything was going to be all right. The manitous were with him, watching over him, determined to keep him and his friends safe. That, he finally understood.

  A sudden burst of light filled the sky, releasing a violent rumble that shook the ground below them. It had quickly grown ominously dark, and any moment now, they would all be soaked.

  Thanks so very much, manitous! Appreciate it! Really, I do. Positive thoughts never lasted long with Joshua.

  CALEB CAUTIOUSLY approached the Trading Post from the interns’ campsite. He saw Gentle Eagle, Pastor Martin, and Jenny sitting at the picnic table engaged in a heated discussion, and he was hesitant to interrupt. But he had been entrusted with helping Joshua, and he was determined to fulfill that promise. “Gentle Eagle, can I talk to you for a moment?” he finally asked, trying to get his boss’s attention.

  “Of course,” Gentle Eagle said, surprised to see Caleb.

  “I know this is not a good time, because, well, I know what happened with Pukawiss running off and all—”

  “You know his name?” Gentle Eagle asked.

  “Oh yes, we’ve met and already had some great conversations,” Caleb said. He could tell that Gentle Eagle was taken aback by that. “You seem surprised that Joshua would be friends with me. I don’t blame you. Joshua hasn’t exactly met the best of my kind. But we’re not all horrifying insects.”

  “Ha, never said you were,” Gentle Eagle said.

  Pastor Martin sat there calmly, obviously not finding the comparison to insects all that humorous.

  “Well you’ve had a lot of contact with Pastor Martin, so I figure you must see us all that way,” Caleb said, as he looked over to Pastor Martin. The two had history. Caleb hadn’t been on the reservation long before engaging Pastor Martin in some theological arguments. He loved talking to strangers, especially those who thought they knew the truth. He enjoyed debating with them about religion and philosophy and, frankly, whatever came up during the course of the conversati
on. Pastor Martin had been his favorite sparring partner so far, because he didn’t give up like so many others did. He just kept arguing, day after day. The two had come to a mutual respect for each other, though, one that could suffer a few mocking but amiable taunts.

  “Well, there are many different kinds of insects,” Gentle Eagle said, going with the analogy.

  “How so?”

  “Well, let me see,” Gentle Eagle said, as if considering the best example. “Some insects are friendly, like honeybees. Others, like hornets, you’ll want to avoid. Same is true for Christians.”

  “So I’m a honeybee, then?” Caleb asked, smiling. “Um, thanks, I think.”

  “Well, I was going to compare missionaries to snakes, but I’ll go with insects.” Gentle Eagle smiled too. He was obviously enjoying this.

  “So what’s Pastor Martin, then?” Caleb asked, as he pointed to Pastor Martin, who sat there and took the jibes.

  “Hmm, tough one,” Gentle Eagle said. “I think maybe he’s still evolving. We’ll see.”

  Caleb and Gentle Eagle shared a quiet laugh, and even Pastor Martin looked like he was going to break out in a smirk.

  “So what did you want to talk with me about?” Gentle Eagle asked, getting back to Caleb’s initial point.

  “Well, sir, before Pukawiss took off, he asked me to look after his cat.”

  “Oh, yes, Pywacky.”