A Tree by the River

by James Dunn

  I floated back across the river but stopped to study the girl. She was maybe twelve or thirteen, a tiny young thing lying next to an AK-47 that was almost as long as she was tall. She breathed in rapid and shallow gasps, and she was staring directly into my eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her I wouldn’t hurt her. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth and let out a scream that could be heard probably all over the entire country.

  The scream shattered the stillness of the night, and I wanted to be gone. I found myself splashing loudly back across the river. On the shore, I lay still to catch my breath, my eyes noticing a tree with a dark blob that was either a huge ape or a human. Maybe it was the downed pilot. I moved closer and squinted at the tree. It was a westerner, probably American, and yet who the hell was here, and if they were friendly, why no help? I moved closer and confirmed it was our team. In fact it looked a lot like me. I went up and grabbed the dog-tags for a better look. “Allman, Toby!”

  How in the hell can I be looking directly at me and not be me? The next thing I knew I was closing his eyes, and was startled to see my hand pass right through him. I tried it again, but once again my hand and his face couldn't make contact.

  I looked at my hand, flexed the fingers in and out, and carefully tried again to touch Allman’s eyelid. I held my breath, and gingerly leaned closer, letting the distance between finger and face diminish. Still there was no sensation of contact, no feeling at all as my finger seemed to go right inside his skull. I jerked my hand away and tried to process this new information. Nothing came to mind.

  How could this be happening? How could I be looking at me? The night suddenly got really cold, and I shuddered with a deep sense of tiredness, and felt myself slipping right into the form in the tree.

  Now it was me that had the quick, shallow breathe, and the panic in the eyes. What the hell just happened?

  I let my eyes wander to the huge crater where the first artillery round hit. A family of huge rats was scurrying in and around the crater, searching for anything edible. One was actually chewing on the pith helmet on the really tall Chinese guy. One of our Vietnamese scouts that we were training had pointed out that those rats would eat anything that had blood on it.

  I shuddered and closed my eyes. I needed sleep, but instead of sleeping, my mind went back over the events of the day. Was there something I could have done to make the outcome different? For the longest time no thought at all came to me. Nothing. I drew in a deep breath, and noticed, but hardly cared that I was still blowing frothy red bubbles. The night jungle noises returned, finally lulling me to sleep. I went still closer to see if it was the pilot, moving, and opened my eyes to the sensation of flying down a long dark tunnel. There was no effort, no energy expelled. I was just sort of floating. The speed increased rapidly and lights and sounds flashed by in a roar. It was like riding on a train and passing the objects alongside the tracks. I looked ahead and saw a distant point of light in a field of pitch-black darkness.

  Faster and faster I went, and the point of light got bigger and bigger until it nearly consumed me. I remember thinking that this light was a lot brighter than the arc from the welder in shop class in high school. And yet it didn't seem to hurt my eyes.

  The walls of the tunnel now glowed, and out of the corners of my eyes I thought I saw movements and strange shapes and voices that made sounds like parts of words. The light in front of me seemed to take on the shape of a man's body, but without any distinct features. I slowed to a stop and stood speechless in front of a shape made out of light.

  I had the strange sense of being home, and the figure seemed to open its arms like my mom and dad did when I was a little kid. It absolutely radiated love and warmth, and I felt like I was finally coming back to something or someone I knew I loved so very, very much.

  I could feel the love welling up inside of me, and a sensation of completion overwhelmed me. "If this is dying," I thought, "then I'm just fine with it." The light seemed to speak to me wordlessly, like a silent form of mental telepathy or something. As soon as I thought a thought, the light answered. It said, "It is whatever you want it to be, Toby.

  It didn't seem strange that I was talking to light, or that the light knew me. In fact it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I had a feeling that I was reunited with an old friend, or a beloved parent or relative that I couldn't quite remember, but knew I knew and deeply trusted.

  "Who are you," I asked. Again the answer came with no sound, no obvious communication. It was like a thought inside my head that just appeared there. It said, "To some I appear as Jesus, or Buddha, or Mohammed. To others I seem like an ancestor, or maybe a parent. What I am called depends upon your belief, but in reality I am the only real part of you. I am yourself."

  The love that emanated from this light was so awesome, so immense I felt a strong urge to embrace it. As soon as that thought occurred, the light seemed to encircle me. I was filled with indescribable joy. And confusion. "Then you aren't real?"

  The silent answer was instantly in my mind. "I am the only really real thing in your entire existence. You made up your body, your world, and your games of war. I am the one part of you that is real."

  It took me a long time to gather my thoughts, so intense was the feeling of joy and peace and love. But finally my mind formed again around another question, or a lot of questions.

  "So I am dead? Did I die? Is this heaven?" The answer that came to me startled me again with its swiftness, and it’s content. "Death and dying, heaven and hell are also things you made up. In truth there is only life, not death. Only the is-ness, not heaven and not hell."

  "What about the people I killed? I know I have sinned. Thou shalt not kill, right?"

  "A more correct statement might be, "Thou cannot kill, and there is only life everlasting."

  Now my mind was tumbling, spinning in a vortex of questions that got answers that only led to more questions.

  After some time I spoke again, "Can I ask any question I want?"

  The light seemed to laugh. There was no meanness, no belittling, just an immense sense of love. "Of course you can ask questions. The whole purpose of your soul's journey is to remember what you tried to forget. That is what your world is for."

  I desperately need some answers. "Where am I? If I'm not dead, then what is this? Should I go back? Can I stay here?"

  The love that flowed forth from the light was so comforting that a part of me wanted to stay forever, just wrapped in the arms of love. It reminded me of being a little baby, and being held by a parent. But even that didn't approach this.

  "You are in a doorway. You have not yet decided to cross the threshold, because there is more you want to do. Nothing that ever happens to you happens without your desire and consent. This is true for you, Toby, and true for all the other parts of yourself that you like to think are other people. In truth it is all you. You are all one. Come and look at this."

  The entire background suddenly changed, and became a panoramic view, like a 3-D movie. I saw myself as a light that swooped and entered my mother's womb that grew and became the ‘me’ that I called ‘Toby,’ who was a baby, then a toddler, and soon a young child.

  Certain moments of my life stood out more sharply, and seemed to draw my attention. I watched myself in 5th grade as Darnell and Bubba Clements dared me to take Billy Watson's lunch money. I saw how much I wanted to fit in with those two, and how I replied, "Watch this."

  Then I went over to where Billy was in the line and grabbed him by the collar. He had his money in his shirt pocket, sort of sticking out, and so I just grabbed it. When Billy started crying, I hit him in the eye. I saw all this happen, but I felt Billy's shame and pain and rage. It was as if a boy who looked like a young me was hitting me. The hurt I felt was not so much the physical pain, but the emotional hurt. The embarrassment of giving up my lunch money, of knowing my classmates were watching and laughing.

  I watched as the kid that was me went home, and my dad was home from wor
k for some reason when I got there. Maybe Billy's dad told him, or maybe he just had a knack for smelling trouble. He asked me as I laid down my books, "Is there something you need to tell me?" And I knew I couldn't hide it, and so I told him how I'd been dared to take Billy's money. "Did it feel like the right thing when you did it?" I shook my head. "Then undo it," he said.

  So I went the next day at lunch hour and sat down beside Billy. I didn't know what to say, so I just handed him the money I took, and mumbled that I was sorry. He smiled through his black eye and said, "Thanks."

  Next was me as a teenager driving my Dad's truck. I jammed on the brakes as a group of boys laughed. One kid held a cat by the tail and slammed it into a telephone pole. This time I felt the cat's pain. In fact it was that pain that made me notice the boys. And here was a young me, a skinny sixteen year old, who jumped from the pickup and stopped the boy.

  "How would you like it if someone did that to you?" a shrill young voice I recognized as me demanded. All four of the boys were bigger than me, but no one argued. They just backed away. I picked up the stunned cat and cradled it and petted it softly. It relaxed and began to purr. Next I could feel the cat's gratitude. And I knew exactly what was going to happen, because I remembered how the cat scampered away as if nothing happened at all.

  Then came a scene from my first patrol. I could see myself trying to hide in the tall grass, fear, choking wet in my throat. That Viet Cong guy was so cautious, so hyper alert. The instant he spotted me and raised his rifle, and it was in that very same instant I squeezed off a round that hit him full in the nose. His head jerked backwards and it actually looked like he jumped.

  This time as I watched, I felt his fear turn to stark panic when he spotted me looking thru my sights at him. It was as if I was inside his body, feeling all those emotions, screaming silently as the impact knocked me backwards. The last thought I remembered was a sorrow for a wife and a little daughter never to be seen again. I was amazed that the guy lived as long as he did. I could sense his thoughts of his parents, and his shame that he let his unit down.

  One scene melded into another, another patrol and another kill. In each one I seemed to go inside the mind of my enemy, and die with each one of them. Suddenly it was the present again, or yesterday or whenever ... I was reliving my last patrol.

  From a view above the battlefield I could see myself concealed off the trail. But I could also see the boy who was the walking point. This time though, I seemed to go inside that boy’s mind as he stepped around what he thought was a rotted log. I got to feel the horror as my hand covered his mouth, and a terrible searing sensation as that black knife entered his back and found his heart.

  Wild, delirious fear engulfed me as I relived it all from within the boy's body. Disconnectedness and confusion filled me as I went airborne when the body was being hurled through the underbrush. I felt regret so deep and so painful as the memories of a short life, brothers and a sister, and the comrades were left behind.

  The visions and sensations played on an on as I felt the horror and the death of each of the others on that fateful day. "Oh, God" I sobbed. Can the killing ever stop?" As the question was formed in my mind, it was instantly answered with another question. It said. "Can what is eternal ever die?"

  The answer stopped my mind. For some time I was totally still, totally without a thought.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thinking. For the longest time my mind could not get words to form in a logical order. Finally I blurted out, "So what does all this mean? Why did I have to watch and feel all that stuff if it didn't happen? Am I having some wild and weird kind of a dream?"

  "The experience you see as your life is merely an attempt to forget what your reality is. Whatever happens to you, is to help you to see the truth. You choose the lessons that you need to learn, or more accurately, unlearn… And yes, in a way it is but a dream. Your reality is pure light, pure oneness, and pure love."

  I shuddered. "Can the world ever live without wars?"

  The answer struck me like a fist in the solar plexus, but not in a physical way. It was just there, within my being with such clarity.

  The answer said, "Whatever is in your mind is reflected as your world. If you desire a world of peace, you must begin with a mind at peace."

  I knew then that I had to go back. Just a moment earlier I had wished, longed even, to stay here with this incredible being of light. But now I was sure that I had more to do. Instantly I felt myself soaring, roaring backwards down a long vortex tunnel. It seemed so fast that the lights became blurry streaks. I slammed back into my tree perch with a fierce jerk. I forced my eyes to open and beheld the predawn jungle, with the carnage below being methodically cleared by those ravenous black rats.

  I wanted to see how bad it was. Instantly, I seemed to rise up and out away from the tree. I floated down the rows of bodies. It all seemed so natural to make the body count again to verify my numbers. Accuracy was something that the brass seemed to holler about a lot. It reassured me when I found the same count as I had made last night.

  Again I noted that the girl was still alive, but just barely. She had lost a ton of blood, and I could see it oozing from the bottom of her cotton trousers. Her face showed no pain, no emotion at all. It's as if she had been so conditioned to accepting pain and grief that this was just one more day of the same. I wondered if it might be her last.

  A movement off to my left caused me to turn back towards the crumpled bodies on the other side of the river. I blinked and rubbed my eyes and blinked again. A wispy form, almost transparent, seemed to rise up out of each of the bodies. I closed my eyes and counted to three and looked again. Something was still there, moving near each body. My first thought was that another bunch of enemy soldiers was checking on the bodies. But something was not right.

  I wished desperately for my weapon, but knew it was out of reach. I looked again at the bodies lying in such a random pattern on the trail. Now I noticed that many of the forms next to the bodies were turning to stare at me. I wanted to be gone, and almost instantly I was floating backwards, and the forms and the bodies receded. I passed again out of the trail and rose up swiftly until I slammed back into my body in the tree.

  Now I felt like my own body was suspended in a thick syrup, and every movement took incredible effort. I willed my right hand to come into view, and nearly passed out from the effort, but soon saw it in front of my eyes. My hand appeared solid, not wispy.

  What was I seeing then? The memory of those wispy forms was strong, and I was totally unnerved with the idea that they had looked in my direction. None of them had grabbed for a weapon, and none of them seemed surprised to see me. My mind wandered then, back to my encounter with that awesome light. The words were etched in my mind. I remembered the question I had asked, and said it aloud again, "Can the world ever live without wars?" I knew the answer, and I knew that the answer I was given was not about anyone else. I just didn't know what to do with it. So I closed my eyes to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Daylight and the sound of music pulled me from a sleepless dream. My mind reluctantly came back from deep sleep and remembered my situation. I was still stuck through the middle, and still pinned up about eight feet off the ground in a monkey tree.

  So how the hell could I hear music out in the middle of some God forsaken jungle? It sounded off in the distance, but got louder and louder until a band of bald headed monks in orange and brown robes appeared beneath my feet. A tiny old man with wispy white mustache and goatee looked up at my tree and pointed. Behind him was a skinny guy with a tambourine who almost bumped into him. Behind that guy were four more monks. All eyes focused on me.

  I wasn't sure whether to wave or call out, so I just watched as the monks huddled up and started a discussion. There were several glances in my direction. The discussion grew animated, with the old guy emphatically repeating himself, and the skinny kid with the tambourine nodding again and again. A chubby guy with a filthy robe and a five
o'clock shadow on his shaved head was shaking his head, obviously disagreeing, or at least hoping something he said would carry some weight. Finally the old guy stamped his foot and raised both arms. All the monks instantly stopped talking and looked up at me.

  The skinny one stepped directly underneath the tree and asked in broken English, "Do you think you are going to die today?"

  "If I don't get out of this tree soon, I'll die. Today, tomorrow maybe."

  The monk nodded that he understood me and translated it to the others. Again nearly everyone spoke at once, and again the old guy raised his hands and silenced them. Then he spoke to the skinny one, who nodded and addressed me again.

  "We have decided to make a ladder and try to get you out of the tree.

  Please be patient."

  Since I was pretty much out of options, I nodded my assent. I watched them for a while as they carefully picked the uprights, cut and stripped the bark, and went looking for the pieces that would become the steps. When they didn't return after a while I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I dreamed an intense and fitful dream.

  I was suddenly thirteen, and it was summer. My next-door neighbor was a pretty girl named Myrna. She was four days older than me, but I had a huge crush on her. We had whispered and plotted earlier in the day, and agreed to pretend to be asleep for the evening. She kissed my cheek, ran home, and was upstairs in no time. I mumbled something to my mom that I was sleepy, faked a big yawn, and raced upstairs too. I looked across at her window, but the curtains were drawn. I started to turn away when I saw her hand giving me the thumbs up sign, and then she pulled back the curtains and opened her window. She had shorts and a tee shirt on and was barefooted, and I watched her climb out the open window and beckon to me.

  I jumped into my Levis and shirt and tugged on my window, but it was stuck. I panicked when she stepped to the tree and climbed down out of view. What was wrong with the stupid window? I braced and pushed up on the top frame, and heard a slight pop as the caulk along the glass broke loose. I stopped pushing and saw that the latch was still partly hooked. Within a moment I had joined her on the ground. She grabbed my hand and tugged me off towards the meadow.