Number Nine: Chapter 13

LIZARD DREAMS


FADE IN:

EXT. DESERT HIGHWAY – ARIEL VIEW – DAY

CRYSTAL SHIP by Jim Morrison plays in the foreground as Jake and Ruby awaken in the desert trailer of White Wolf and Tall Woman. REVOLUTION 9 plays in the background.

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane…

INSERT MONTAGE – DISTORTED DREAM VISIONS

CLOSE UP of the eyes of the crow, yielding to a series of distorted visions: A rabbit captured in the claws of a hawk, coyote on the prowl, a wolf emerging from fire, full moon in a darkened sky, a dead soldier on desert sand, fire in the sky, a wall of water washing over the land.

Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why…

Number nine, Number nine, Number nine…

Fade Dream Vision.



From a basin of honeysuckle-scented water, they washed their hands and faces, sending a shockwave through their senses. The smell of sage permeated the air while White Wolf and Tall Woman, a smile of the heart imprinted on their faces and a childlike twinkle in their eyes, handed them mugs of fresh coffee to warm their hands and blankets to dull the chill until the heat of the fire took hold.

White Wolf drew the deerskin curtains on the eastern window to let the first light of day break through like a beacon to their souls.

They sat in silence, feeling no need to offer commentary on a shared experience. Ruby alone fought back the instinct to fill the silence with words, to test the validity of her perceptions by the testimony and confirmation of her fellow travelers. Old habits die kicking and screaming. Dry lands swallow the rain and old leaders fight back the inevitable waves of change. It is the way of nature and the manner of humankind.

Soon the cool of morning gave way to a dry desert heat as they fed on a mixture of ground corn and oatmeal, sweetened with honey and blended with water into a paste. They finished their coffee, folded their blankets, and followed the old man out the door and deep into the barren desert.

White Wolf stopped, as if the spirits commanded him, looked to the sky, reached into a leather pouch at his hip, and held it aloft. He howled as werewolf would do in the full of the moon, yapped as a coyote prancing, and danced in a small circle, chanting without words until he circled four times. He released the herbal medicine in the four directions, then above, then below and then to the heart. It was a completion of the sacred circle in the seven sacred directions.

He turned to Jake, offering the medicine of the pouch.

“I have sung my starting song,” he said. “Now you must sing.”

Jake took the leather pouch, held it to his lips and pressed it to his heart. He opened the pouch and extracted a pinch. As the old man had done, he howled, yapped and cawed until he came to the dance. Where the old one’s dance was heavy and pounding like the wolf, Jake’s was light and fleeting like a bird, then swift like a lizard. Where White Wolf’s song had wailed and moaned, Jake’s was sharp and crisp. When he finished, he released the medicine in the seven directions and stood beside his mentor.

Ruby stood petrified in awe and wondered if she was the butt of an Indian joke. She was a white chick, a Vegas party girl, and though she wanted to believe in the honor that was being offered, it all seemed too unreal.

They seemed to share her amusement with knowing smiles but continued staring in silence, the old man holding out his offering.

“Alright,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve done a million things stranger.”

She stepped forward, took the medicine bag and performed the ritual as Jake had done. When she reached the dance stage, she felt a spirit enfold her. She was a dancer but this was different. It was the dance of the coyote and the flight of the crow, playful, joyous and filled with yearning. She yapped and cawed and completed the ritual with an offering in the seven directions and took her place next to White Wolf, who nodded his approval.

They followed him into the ocean of sand, waves slowly rolling beneath their feet, wind whispering harmonies, hearts beating as drums, an oppressive blanket of heat washing over them, sparing them, leaving them to complete their journey.

With the sun still high in the sky, they constructed a shelter from found wood and brush, laid a circle of stones, and made camp. They would light a fire at sunset. Until then, they would sit and wait. They passed the time drinking tea and exploring their surroundings one by one. They were perched on a cliff overlooking a vast expanse of the Navaho desert, etched with gullies, crevices and towering rock monuments, the markings of an earth in constant motion.

Everything from the billowy white clouds above to the lonely coyote scurrying on the desert floor below, from the face of an ancestor carved in stone to the caw of an unseen crow, seemed somehow familiar and inviting – as if it had been here waiting for this moment.

As the sun crashed on the western horizon, White Wolf sat before the circle of stones and began to chant in the tongue of the ancients. Jake and Ruby joined him, finding a language they could not have learned, a language that was stored in the sand and stones, unleashed by the power of prayer.

Each in turn rose to follow a path that belonged only to one. Jake moved to the south, toward a cluster of rock formations, eyes open but his vision blurred, dream walking. The spirits guided him to his place of power, an indentation atop a round boulder, and there he sat, entering the shadow land where light and darkness meet, blending the worldly with the ethereal stars. He became the lizard and the desert became the kingdom of his dream.

Ruby resisted the call until a soothing warmth entered her spirit. She rose and felt herself pulled to the edge of the cliff. She fought back but the sensation of comfort flowed over and within her until she yielded and followed down a thin finger of stone extending outward over the great expanse. She was the crow flying above her desert domain. Down below she saw a coyote gliding gracefully across the land. She was the coyote, stopping to gaze at the crow above.

She was gripped by the fear of being watched, pursued, hunted, and found herself transported to the streets of a city, where the sounds of jazz and celebration permeated the moving throng of smiling, yelling, staggering people. She looked up to see a face staring down at her from behind a mask.

It was the French Quarters in New Orleans.

She turned south to see a sky filled with rage. She closed her eyes and heard the earth rumble like a thousand pounding trains. She saw earthen levees tear and break, streets filled with angry waves of water, people swept away, trapped in attics and stranded on rooftops. They cried out for help but no one heard them. They gathered together and suffered the indignity of a forgotten tribe. Ruby suffered with them and fought back her tears. She understood their need for the strength of warriors, not the comfort of priests.

The old man called them back to the fire with the cry of a wolf. They embraced him in silence and sat gazing into the dancing flames, lost in the wonder of another world.

“Great Spirit,” he said, “we thank you for the guidance and the wisdom and the powers we have received this night. We thank you for the gift of sight.

“I am the wolf, the teacher, and the sleeping bear. This night I have howled at the moon and received its mystery. I have known the beauty of being alone with my thoughts. I have learned the oneness of all beings, none lesser nor greater than myself. For this and all the things I cannot give words, I thank you.”

He gave an offering of earth in the seven directions and bowed his head.

“I am the lizard,” said Jake, “the dreamer and the dragonfly of illusions. Tonight I have lived in the shadows and witnessed wonders beyond words. I have seen through layers of illusion to the heart of all beings. For this vision I give thanks.”

He gave his offering and bowed his head.

Ruby focused on the fire, her soul open and unafraid, her mind clear, until the spirit moved her to speak.

“I am the crow and the coyote. Tonight I have run in the shadows of moonlight, hunted and tasted flesh. I have known the fear of being hunted. I have seen the circle of life and followed the path of destiny. For this I am grateful beyond words.”

She gave an offering, as Jake and White Wolf had done, and bowed her head. When she raised it again, the world had changed. A strange, visible glow surrounded everything in sight. The rocks, the sand and brush, everything moved and breathed in the rhythm of life.

Though sentient memories would fade in time, nothing would ever be the same. Ruby revered it and held to it as if her future, her soul, her place in the world depended on remembering every detail and breathing it in.

Jake and White Wolf were deep in meditation, sensing the same need for complete understanding and appreciation.

Ruby remembered New Orleans and wondered, with a sharp tinge of sorrow that cut straight to the heart, how long it would be before destiny summoned.

When they returned to the trailer in the early morning, they were greeted by four armed warriors. White men with greasy hair had come to the reservation and were offering money for Ruby and Jake. The warriors were here to warn them and protect them. They would camp here until the danger passed.

White Wolf welcomed them with open arms. They ate and talked about hard times on the reservation: no jobs, no recreation for the children, homes without heat or air conditioning, schools with books from the sixties that spoke of the genocide as manifest destiny, disease, drugs and alcohol. It was a time of war and many of their young were signing up to fight in Iraq.

“They say it’s in our blood,” said a woman with mourning eyes. “They say we can prove ourselves through war. I say they send us to fight against our own people, indigenous people. I say there is no honor in the white man’s wars.”

“They come back changed,” said a man who might have been Jake’s brother. “They come back cold and hard and turn to the bottle.”

“Or they don’t come back at all,” said another.

Someone mentioned a story she had read in the paper describing a killing field south of the border around Nogales. Dozens if not hundreds of women were killed and buried in shallow graves. Ruby knew then why Jake would not go south. She understood that he had saved her life once more.

When night fell, Ruby told Jake it was time for her to go but she understood if he wanted to stay. This was his home and these were his people. She wanted him to go but she would not stand in the way of his happiness. Jake replied that he would go with her as long as the Great Spirit approved and she embraced him in loving arms.

In the morning, White Wolf led them outside to where Cinnamon was parked next to an old Ford pickup.

“I like this vehicle,” he said, placing his hand on Ruby’s Dodge. “I was wondering if you’d like to trade.”

It was a done deal though it pulled at Ruby’s heart. She loved that car. They had traveled many miles together but they needed a new vehicle to get past Guido’s thugs. They needed function, not form. They needed to blend with the land.

“Does the radio work?” she asked.

“Like a million bucks,” said White Wolf.

“Deal,” said Ruby.

They shook hands and embraced.

“Take care of my son,” White Wolf whispered. “There is a place in his heart only you can heal.”

It would be a long time before she understood his words. She would of them every day of their adventure and ponder the meaning. They made their goodbyes, started up the old Ford truck and headed east into a new day.


FADE IN:

EXT. DESERT BACKROAD – ARIEL VIEW – DAY

An old gray pickup leaves a trail of dust.

CLOSE UP of Ruby in the passenger seat, a tear rolls down her cheek.

Neil Young’s IT’S A DREAM (Prairie Wind) plays in the foreground.

It’s a dream, it’s only a dream
and it’s fading now, fading away

It’s a dream, it’s only a dream,
just a memory without anywhere to stay.

Fade out IT’S A DREAM. Fade in LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS as they drive on down the road.

INSERT MONTAGE: THE NEON DESERT

A liquid desert in bright neon with close-ups of the lizard, the crow and coyote.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,
Towering over your head.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,
And she's gone.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds…

Fade out.