And Dream that I am Home Again

by Lois RH Balzer

  He pushed the fear aside again. And again.

  His index finger touched his guide's forehead, tracing the dampness, then he touched his finger to his tongue and tasted the tangy saltiness of his partner's sweat.

  I see you. I hear you. I smell you. I feel you. I taste you.

  Everything else is disappearing, Chief.

  Only you remain.

  With a ragged roar, he flung his head back and stared up into the darkness, but there was nothing. The silent fire was blue. His guide was blue. The sentinel cried again and gathered his partner in his arms, holding him like a child, his talisman, his very existence.

  And he looked at him. And listened to the straining respiration. And smelled the sickness. And felt the tremors.

  And kissed his guide's forehead, his tears washing the perspiration away.

  For he had nothing more to give.

  * * *

  .

  Settling himself back on the floor, Harvey tried to review what he knew about astral travel, and groaned immediately. "What are you thinking, Leek? You're an idiot." He hadn't fasted, he had just eaten until he was stuffed. He hadn't detoxified his system, or gone on a vegan diet to free the resources of his mind from unnecessary metabolism. He hadn't meditated in years. His guru back then had insisted they dress and match their surrounding colors with their auras, to stimulate their senses and abilities.

  Okay, so he had forgot what his aura looked like. Or how to see it.

  What am I doing here?

  "Like you're going to travel anywhere. Get real." He pulled his knees up again and rested his chin on them, peering down to the flickering candles.

  Ten minutes later, he decided mediating wasn't going to help, it was just going to end up putting him to sleep. It had been a long day, after a long, long month.

  Another thirty minutes, then I'll stop.

  It was quiet in the other room. Nash and Simon weren't talking anymore, or if they were, it was so quiet he couldn't hear them. He tried concentrating on listening.

  Blair had an electric clock by his bedside that gave off a soft chrrrr sound.

  The fridge - an old model, as he recalled - started up, the motor raspy at first before it quieted down.

  Through the narrow opening in the window, he could hear the sound of voices - people walking along the street, their voices carrying down the alley and into Blair's room. A car passing, so faint.

  He was so tired. Tired.

  The flames flickered, then disappeared as his eyes slid shut.

  * * *

  .

  The guide woke to darkness. He was being rocked gently, held in the sentinel's arms. He knew who held him without opening his eyes, but it took him a full minute to remember his sentinel's name.

  "Uh, Jim?" he whispered, feeling foolish that he had forgotten.

  There was no response, and the rocking didn't stop. Gathering his strength, he pulled away from the embrace, shifting to kneel beside his partner. He couldn't see him very well in the dark on dark shadows, but he saw enough to know the sentinel sat hunched over, his head down, his arms now limp at his side.

  "Whoa. Majorly not good here, Jim." He tapped the side of the sentinel's face, but there was no response. "Not good, at all," he muttered to himself, because who else was there to hear him?

  Guide.

  He turned his head, wondering where the noise had come from. It had almost sounded like a word.

  Guide.

  Now that definitely sounded like a word. Like someone calling his name.

  He tried to stand up to find out where it was coming from, when a dark shape bowled into him, knocking him flat on his back. Strong heavy paws rested on his chest, a whiskers bent low over his face, then the worst sandpapery tongue imaginable scraped a layer of skin from his cheek in one wet swipe.

  "Let me guess. You're Mr Panther, the talking cat?"

  The jaguar did not seem to hear him, or didn't get the joke, at least. Fright suddenly caught up with the situation, and Blair struggled not to scream, not to fight, just to lie still. OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod

  The large - very, very large - cat took his time, snuffling him, sniffing him, licking him, one huge paw rolled him to his side and he went with the motion, deciding that pissing this beast off would not be a good thing, especially since Jim was just sitting there vegetating.

  Or, was this Jim? Jim's spirit animal was a jaguar, so if Jim wasn't functioning and the spirit animal showed up, was it in some way Jim? No. Yes.

  No.

  For some reason, his brain wasn't reasoning very well, and he couldn't figure it out.

  Guide.

  Okay, there was the voice again, and it wasn't coming from the cat, who stepped off him and let him sit up. "Who's there?" he asked, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

  There was a flash of light that made him swear rather loudly and flinch back, bumping into the jaguar, who got up, circled around and then sat down beside him again.

  Guide.

  He opened his eyes and stared. He could see now, or at least he could see Incacha's solemn face looking down at him. "Hi." Yes! Finally. Finally. Finally. He was having a proper shaman dream. It was about time. He took a few deep breaths, trying to savor the experience he had waited so long for.

  Your sentinel is weak.

  Okay, Incacha jumped right into that. Does it have more than one meaning? Does he mean just physically, or that Jim's a coward or something. Or maybe it's something else I'm supposed to understand.

  Your sentinel is weak.

  There seemed to be some response Incacha was waiting for. Jim was a good sentinel, the best, so maybe it was the physical interpretation. Blair decided to try that answer first. "I can see that he is not well. I'm not sure what is wrong. Can you help him?"

  He thinks he is protecting you.

  "Yeah, that sounds like Jim. He gets carried away sometimes though."

  He is killing himself.

  "What?" All thought of the jaguar and the weirdness of talking to a dead guy vanished. Blair scrambled to his feet. "What can I do?"

  Take him home.

  "Home?" I guess I'm back to 'where the hell am I?'. "Uh, metaphorically speaking, I'm not in Kansas anymore, right? So, how do I get home?"

  Dream.

  Incacha disappeared, taking the light with him. And apparently the cat.

  "What's that supposed to mean? Hey! Incacha! Can you come back here for a minute? I didn't get what you said." But no amount of imploring, cajoling, pleading, or even old-fashioned foot-stomping brought back the old shaman. "Lot of help you are."

  He found Jim again in the darkness and draped himself over his partner's back, his face pressed into Jim's neck, his arms wrapped around the sentinel's chest. He knew he was supposed to be figuring this all out, but he was just too damned tired to do anything. "Hey, Jim, it would be really nice if you just started talking to me, okay? I'm a little out of my depth here. I mean, you're the one who has the dreams, and I interpret them for you. We had a nice little system going -- at least when you cooperated."

  Another flash of light, brighter this time than the last time. Blair raised his head and squinted at the dark figure silhouetted in glow. "Hello? Incacha?"

  The light shifted or something, for suddenly the guide could see the man standing before him. Well, it wasn't Incacha. He looked and dressed similar, but those were warrior markings, not those of a shaman. He carried a long spear and had a quiver of arrows over one shoulder. Behind him, the jaguar sat on his haunches, tail swishing back and forth as though it were really angry.

  "Hey, are you the sentinel-warrior figure who appears in Jim's dreams?" Blair blurted out, holding tighter to his sentinel. "Because if you are, maybe you could help me here. Wherever here is."

  Sentinel.

  There was no response from Jim.

  Blair tried calling him a few times, as well, but finally looked up at the sentinel-warrior. "He's not quite here. Something's wrong with him."

  S
entinel. It is time to dream of home.

  The words echoed through his mind, but he couldn't see the man's lips move. "Dream of home? Is Jim sleeping? Is that was this is? Some sleeping sickness?"

  The jaguar roared, showing off a huge mouthful of extremely sharp, deadly looking teeth.

  "I'm not being flippant here," Blair argued. "I can't figure out what is happening. My head hurts, I feel like shit, and I can't seem to get my mind around this whole thing, so if there's anything at all that you could tell me to-"

  Sentinel! The sentinel-warrior didn't seem to hear the guide at all, and Blair realized that not once had he even looked his way.

  "Can you see me?" he asked softly.

  Sentinel - you must dream of home.

  The light flashed again, and the man was gone, along with the jaguar, at least as far as Blair could see.

  Well, that was helpful, wasn't it? "Hey, Jim." He lay his head against the back of his partner's neck, tightening his arms across Jim's chest. He was still draped over his sentinel because he was cold and Jim was warm. And mostly because he was exhausted beyond exhausted and scared and confused, and he was afraid that if he let go of Jim, maybe the sentinel would disappear or something and leave him all alone. "Jim, could you wake up and tell me what's going on?"

  Another flash of light, and Blair sighed, wondering who it was this time. It wasn't a very big flash of light, more like the quick flash from an instamatic camera.

  "Damn."

  Well, that's different, Blair thought. There was a sound of someone stumbling and he blinked, trying to see whoever was there. His grip on his partner tightened even more.

  A match flickered, bringing to sight a face that looked remotely familiar. Before Blair could get a good look at the man, the match burned out and a muttered curse spoke into the darkness. More fumbling noises, then the sound of another match lighting. Blair hid his eyes from the sudden spark.

  "Hello? Anyone there?"

  Huh? He knew that voice from somewhere. "Harvey?" Blair whispered, opening his eyes and taking in the multi-colored shirt, the woven vest, and the black Jerry Garcia armband.

  "Blair? Is that you? Fuck, did I actually do this?"

  Harvey - or at least the person who looked and sounded like Harvey - stepped closer to them. Yup, it was Harvey all right.

  "What are you doing here, Harvey? This is bizarre, man. First, it's Incacha, then the sentinel-warrior Jim told me about, now you. No offence, man, but you're not who I was expecting."

  "Blair? You can really see me?" Harvey stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

  "Of course I can see you. You're standing right in front of me." Blair kept his contact with his partner, but slid around beside him, one arm draped over Jim's shoulder as he squatted beside him.

  "Do you know where you are?" Harvey asked. "Sorry for jumping right into this, but I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to stay here or get bumped out. I'm not even sure what I'm doing. I thought I was going to have to do some astral traveling, but this is more like controlled dreaming. If that," he added, scratching his head. He looked up at Blair suddenly, as though waiting for an answer.

  "I'm sorry, what was the question again?" There had been too much dialog after the question and he had forgotten it. Blair shivered. He was cold again. He scooted in front of Jim, sliding back against him, then wrapping the man's limp arms around him. Jim's head rested on one of Blair's shoulders. It felt safe.

  Harvey waited until he was settled before answering. "Do you know where you are?"

  "Uh, I'm here I guess." He thought about it again, and remembered wondering where he was. It was hard to stay with one thought. "No, I don't know. Where are I?"

  Harvey crouched down in front of them, then reached out and raised Blair's chin to look at him. "Stay with me, okay? Just let me talk."

  "Okay."

  "I think you're in Jim's dream."

  "Huh? What?"

  "I think you're in Jim's dream. Or at least his dreamscape. I remember you telling me about his dreamscape, where he has his visions."

  "Oh. Right. So I'm dreaming about Jim's dreamscape? Does that mean Jim's not really here?"

  "No. Jim's dreaming. You're in his dream."

  "But Jim's kinda out of it. - And how can I be in his dream? That doesn't make any sense."

  "What I figure happened is that Jim brought you here, trying to keep you safe. When you first got here, do you remember feeling good? Healthy?"

  "I was at first. We went camping - well, more like hiking and then camping out overnight. It was nice."

  "It was nice," the sentinel echoed, raising his head and looking at Harvey. Blair felt the strong arms encompass him.

  "Jim! Cool. You're back."

  "Just tired, Chief." Ellison took a deep breath and exhaled. "Harvey," he acknowledged, then cleared his throat. "You said I brought Blair into my dream? How could I do that? That's impossible."

  "Not really. Let's see if I can say this quickly. Remember when Blair drowned at Rainier?"

  "Yes." The sentinel sounded both angry and desperately sad.

  "You had a dream. About the panther and the wolf."

  "We both had the same dream," Blair countered.

  "No, Blair. Only Jim had the dream."

  "I had it, too. I remember it."

  "That's because you were there. In Jim's dream."

  "That doesn't make any sense," he asked, yawning. It was hard to stay awake. "How could I get in Jim's dream?"

  "Because you're a shaman and Jim's a sentinel, and all the other criteria was met. You were away from your body already and had what is sometimes called an 'out of body' experience. Jim sensed your spirit and brought you into his dreamscape, then returned you to your body."

  Neither sentinel nor guide had any comment for that.

  "Are you following me here?" Harvey asked, cautiously.

  "A bit," Blair said, but his eyes were beginning to get heavy, and he leaned back against Jim's chest.

  "Go on," the sentinel said, sharply, but his actions were gentle as he settled his guide.

  "Jim, I'm not sure what you believe personally about a person's soul. But you, with your special senses, were able to sense Blair's soul adrift, and you captured it, returning him to his body. When you were in the hospital and in the hotel room with Blair last week, he was traumatized from his ordeal and in a similar physical condition to how he was at Rainier. As a shaman, he was physically and mentally in a place to let his spirit go walking. You sensed it, you caught him, comforted him in your dreamplace, and returned him to his body. It had the effect for him of suddenly feeling calm and better, although his physical condition really hadn't changed."

  "So when Blair goes back to his body, he'll be in the same physical condition?" the sentinel asked. He sounded exhausted to Blair, who patted his arm consolingly.

  "Already he's drifting into it, isn't he? It's because you're tired. You're worn out from trying to keep the dreamscape open. It's not meant for this purpose. It's meant for your visions, not as a convalescent ward for your guide. Keeping the dreamscape locked in place is draining you. And it's killing you."

  "What?" Blair exclaimed, eyes opening. "It's killing him?"

  "In a few hours, Jim, we'll have to take you to the hospital, if you don't come out of it. And if you die, we think Blair's soul will go along with you."

  "Why is he dying?" Blair asked, clinging to the sentinel's arm now.

  "He's not entirely aware of what he's doing; this is entirely instinctual. He's just trying to keep you safe and out of pain, and this worked once before, so he's doing it. Only it's the wrong thing to do, Jim."

  Blair felt Jim's hand on his back, drawing comforting little circles, trying to calm him down even as the sentinel wrestled with what Harvey was saying. Harvey had a great voice for this. He made it easy to listen, although Blair was finding it harder and harder to concentrate.

  When Jim spoke, it sounded nice, a rumble right by Blair's ear. "Since I got him back - af
ter he was kidnaped, there has been something wrong with us. If I go too far away from him - I feel like I'm panicking. And Sandburg has reacted the same way."

  "It's because at Rainier, you carried his soul. That experience profoundly affected you. It left an imprint of Blair's soul on yours. I explained it to your captain that you are in distress right now because each of your cells remembers Blair being within your soul. It feels empty when he's not there; you feel that if Blair is not within your area of control -- your dreamscape in this case --or within close contact, then it must feel to you that Blair is dead all over again."

  "So what do I do?" The sentinel held him close. "If I let him go, will he die? I'd rather die with him, than let him be alone."

  "I know what to do. You dream of home again," Blair whispered.

  "What?"

  He shifted so he could see Jim's face. "Incacha and that other guy - your sentinel-warrior-dream person - they came here before Harvey did. Incacha said I was supposed to dream and guide you home. The other guy said you were supposed to dream of home. He said it was time to go home."

  "Jim," Harvey said softly, "the crisis is over. You've protected him. You've cared for him. Now it's time to take him home and let him go free. All of him. You need to release him to his own body again. You each need to be who you are. You are Jim Ellison, the sentinel. He is Blair Sandburg, the shaman. You have two souls and two bodies."

  "It's been nice visiting, though," Blair whispered, feeling his consciousness fading. "Can I come visit again, if I need to?"

  "Any time, Chief. Any time. My home is your home. My soul is your soul."

  He felt Jim's lips on his forehead, as he slipped into sleep. "See you later, Jim."

  * * *

  .

  Harvey woke with a start, his leg kicking out and knocking over one of the candles, sending hot wax streaming across the hardwood floor. "Shit." He set the candle upright, then quickly blew them all out as the door to the room opened.