by CJ Martín
He would have the same dream every few months. While married he felt ashamed and tried his best to stop the dream both out of a desire to be true to his vows and because he knew he would never feel that full intensity in real life.
He certainly couldn’t say for sure that she was the woman in his dreams, but this was the first time the dream came to mind when meeting someone.
Stumbling, he said, “I... I’m Sam Williams. Oh, but I guess you know that. How do you know that?”
Widening her smile slightly, Suteko squinted her eyes. Her hands were cupped in front, lightly touching her obi belt. Her hair was down and rested on one shoulder. The kimono was tight and brightly colored. She was elegance in person. She, competing with the sun, filled the room with warmth. It was the same warmth Sam felt in his reoccurring dream. It was an incubating warmth, a cocoon, a desirable warming even during the hot August in Japan.
“Tell me Sam, have you noticed anything... unusual?” She looked up and in, deep into his eyes.
Sam’s smile faded. He had almost forgotten about that awful dream and those voices of the previous night. The doctor’s explanation of the sounds of patients next door seemed so plausible the night before. Now, he could not be so sure.
He remembered the man’s voice at the window. Pulling himself up—his ribs were merciless—he fumbled off the bed. Stumbling more than walking, he maneuvered to the window. His room was several floors up. He had thought perhaps he was on the ground floor and the voice was of a midnight stroller in the garden. There was no garden.
Sam’s eyes widened; his hand tugged his chin.
“You’ve heard something, haven’t you?”
Lost in thought, her voice startled him. Sam dropped his shoulders and raised his hands instructively.
“The doctor did say the walls were thin.”
“Sam, you heard the Echoes of Eternity. That’s what I like to call them.”
“Echoes?”
“It is similar to what many call déjà vu. The Echoes that you experienced are a... more complete variant of this phenomenon.”
“What?”
“Do not be alarmed. You will come to find them... comforting even. You are never alone even after a hundred years of wandering. You can hear them best when relaxed and focused. In time, you will be able to almost call them on command.”
Sam began to feel uncomfortable like a sinner in a pew hearing a sermon he knew was inspired by his actions.
“Who are you? What are you talking about?”
“I am a friend. The voices are echoes of the past—or the future. The past is set, but the future voices can change. At least that is how it is from our earthly perspective. I believe it is hearing and sometimes seeing the temporal past or future from the viewpoint of eternity. Eternity is existence outside the bounds of time—”
“Wait, look lady, I’m not into this paranormal type of discussion. I...”
“You have dreamt of me, haven’t you?”
Sam quieted down in complete submission. He was a schoolboy seated before his teacher, his first crush.
She walked around his bed, moving past him and stopping at the window. Pulling back the curtains fully, a flood of light instantly covered the room. With her back to Sam, she touched the glass, and leaning, she peered out as if looking for something.
“It’s not paranormal in the sense of psychics or aliens. In fact, I would argue it is more normal than the strict materialist’s limited viewpoint of what they call ‘normal.’ You believe in intelligence don’t you? You believe in the laws of nature and the laws of logic? These are things that are beyond the material. Things you can’t touch, smell, taste, or hear and yet they are without question real. These are things with perfect order and are universal, existing everywhere equally. I’m not talking about little green men; I’m talking about the true reality—the perspective from eternity.”
She let her hands fall to her sides and then turned to face Sam.
“You did hear voices, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, how did it happen? When did this all start?”
Sam told her of the earthquake and the eerie yet lucid memory of his first moments of life. Unconscious tears began to snake around his nose. He did not know why, but he felt no shame.
Pressing one hand on her wrist to hold the sleeves in place, she gently touched his shoulder with the other. Somehow this simple touch filled his being with comfort.
“I don’t know all the answers, but I believe that we are able to hear these voices because at least for that moment, time holds us prisoners no more. The past, present, and future that we and others experience within time are all viewed from an eternal present.”
“Why did the voices say what they said to me? Was it a message directed at me?” Sam asked.
“The voices are like tape recordings of past or future events of people and things in a particular location. We cannot interact with them, but knowing the time and place can teach us much.”
She wanted to tell him more, but she sensed he couldn’t take it. The tears were rolling down Sam’s face. He never cried in public, not since he was ten going to camp and leaving his parents for the first time. He, too, realized he was absorbing too much, too fast.
It wasn’t just facts he was absorbing. He was experiencing a metamorphosis. The warm cocoon spun by Suteko. Growing pains. Changes. His mind still battling with that something deeper, suddenly gave up and let go.
“Rest, Sam. I will come again tomorrow. We have much work to do and not a lot of time.”
She led him back to the bed and he sat down.
“I thought we were dealing with eternity—existence outside time?”
“You are a quick study. Alas, our existence is on this earth in time, the temporal. I suppose the Echoes help us cheat a little, but being temporal beings, we are still bound by time.”
“I... I have slept so much and yet I am exhausted. But I don’t want you to leave. I don’t understand...”
Seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, she pulled back the sheets and gently encouraged him to lie down.
“It is all right, Sam. I am here. Close your eyes.”
She stroked his hair softly with the tips of her fingernails, the same way his mother did when putting him to bed as a child. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
“Rest.”
She was still there when Sam awoke hours later. Their eyes met in silence for what seemed to be minutes.
“You never answered my question,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “How is it you knew my name and knew about me? Was it the voices?”
“No, Samuel, those who spoke the voices never knew we would hear them. We cannot interact with them.”
She turned toward a beautiful plant on a table near the bed. Sam had not noticed it before. He wondered if someone brought it in while he was out. Did she bring it in? She spoke to the plant.
“Like you, I’ve had a reoccurring dream. There has been a particular dream that has given me more comfort than anything else.”
“What is the dream about?”
Suteko turned back toward Sam and leaned over him.
“You.”
Chapter 5
SAN FRANCISCO
He had acquaintances but no friends. His neighbor next door thought they had invented the word “ass” just for him—she told him so to his face. Even the pastor who ran a soup kitchen two doors down did his best to avoid the “ass.” It wasn’t that the man was mean; he was just horribly inconsiderate. Anyone meeting him for the first time parted knowing he had a severe superiority complex.
He didn’t mind; he thought them all boorish morons.
Todd McGregor had a dark mind but a light complexion as if he rarely got any sun. None of his acquaintances at the Watering Hole bar—the closest thing he had to friends—knew exactly how old he was, but considering his continual bragging about his radical associations in the sixties, he had to be pushing sixty himself. At school
, he surrounded himself with college aged—mostly female—kids. He liked them young and impressionable.
He wore his round, granny-styled glasses on the tip of his nose, imagining himself to be John Lennon’s disciple. He often peered out beyond his spectacles and down at his students, peering and powering over them like a large vulture towering over his prey. He liked to control others, and the classroom was the ideal environment.
It happened on a Friday afternoon as McGregor was wrapping up his final lecture for the day.
McGregor began pulling his books and materials together seemingly absentmindedly while secretly listening to a conversation between two students. He had tutored Michelle McIntyre in the library a few times and wanted to again today—badly. He needed to look busy until the guy she was talking to went away.
They were whispering something too low for McGregor’s ears. Then, suddenly, the guy broke away from her, snapped his fingers, and clicked, “K. I’ll see you at Alamo Park Friday night.” Turning around toward the door, the boy left with a big, goofy smile on his face.
McGregor saw his chance.
“Ah, yes. Michelle, do you have a second?”
She was a sweet girl who saw the good in everyone, even when it was non-existent.
“Yes, Professor McGregor,” she said while hurrying to finish gathering her books.
“Now, I told you. There is no need to be overly formal with me.”
She didn’t like the last time they were alone—he didn’t touch her, but his mannerisms and intimate eye contact spoke of his intentions. She knew what he was about to suggest, and her mind raced to think of plausible excuses.
“Michelle, I don’t want you to get a low grade. You have great potential, but you need to study harder.”
“Yes, sir.”
She was honestly grateful for his help the first time, but the second and third time felt weird. She knew she wasn’t the worst student in the class, but she never saw him approach anyone else.
“I have a short faculty meeting in five minutes, but I am willing to stay a bit longer to help you out today.”
“Ah, that is so kind of you and all, but I...”
By this time they were the only two left in the classroom. He softly placed his hand on hers, instantly silencing her.
McGregor lowered his voice and leaned in slightly.
“I would hate for your grades to suffer due to insufficient attention given to your studies.”
She pulled away. Unsure of what to do or say, she said nothing, turned around, and walked out the door.
Seeing her leave like that, McGregor grew a bit uneasy. He regained his composure, however, and even smiled with the thought that she was a quiet girl who wouldn’t dare tell anyone about his advances. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong.
Chapter 6
ISHIKAWA PREFECTURE, JAPAN
Sam slept through the night soundly. The twittering of morning birds lodged in a tree outside his hospital window broke his slumber.
Once awake, he bolted up expecting to see Suteko, but she was not in the room.
Sam felt his forehead with the back of his hand. It was warm. He wondered if he had a slight fever—or perhaps he was feeling the rush of blood to his head from arching up so suddenly.
Either way, he decided that Suteko must have been nothing more than a dream. And yet, she was so real and fresh on his mind. No woman in reality could possibly be that beautiful and that graceful. His reoccurring dream had simply been modified to the current environment. There was also that weird conversation which felt like it was more from a dream than reality.
Sam pulled his legs to the side of the bed and managed to stand. For the first time since waking up in the hospital the day before, he thought about his wallet, keys, and personal effects. Everything was perfectly safe on the table next to his bed, including the nearly 50,000 yen he had in the wallet. His neighbor back home hosted exchange students, and one from Japan was fond of telling anyone who would listen that Japan was very “safety.” And so it is, thought Sam.
A piece of paper wadded up next to his wallet caught his eye. He unfolded it to discover the character he had copied down just before the earthquake. Having no interest in looking it up, he threw it back down on the table carelessly.
Though a little wobbly, he managed to scuttle to the bathroom mirror. This was the first time he had seen his face since the earthquake. He looked and felt older. There were even a few new gray hairs poking out from his temples and among the stubble of hair on his chin and sides.
The cold water splashing his face made him feel alive again. And yet, a life without purpose seemed hardly worth the trouble. Sam bowed his head between his two large shoulders; his arms were braced on the sides of the sink holding his weight. Just as he was thinking of some smart alec comparison to Atlas holding up the world, he heard a voice.
“You must come with me to America.”
Startled, Sam swiveled to see Suteko standing in the bathroom doorway. His memory had not been corrupted by a good night’s sleep. She was real and as beautiful as he remembered. She had changed into western clothes—jeans and a button up long-sleeved shirt.
Seeing her in a kimono the day before—or had it been a week?—made him think that the Japanese had a monopoly on beauty and fashion. And yet, here she was no less beautiful and dressed with clothes that could have been bought at Wal-Mart.
“Suteko—you are real?”
“Very much so. How do you feel, Sam?”
Sam motioned to the bed and she moved back, allowing him passage. As he made his way to the bed, Sam saw her face change.
She moved to the table next to the bed, and pointing to the piece of paper, she asked why he had written that character down.
“I saw that back at a small bus stop just before the earthquake. I think it is the first character of the name of the town I was in. I wrote it down thinking that I’d look it up later, but after all this, it’s the last thing I’m interested in.”
“Amazing.”
“What?”
“This is a very common character and means ‘details’ or ‘small.’ But more than that, I always see it written somewhere in the dream with you. Always.”
He just stood there not even sure what to say.
“Where did you say you saw this?”
“At Noto Peninsula. Near a bus stop. But, wait... What was the first thing you said?”
“I said that we must go to America and soon. I was hoping you would be able to go today. But your paper here has caught my attention. You must take me to Noto hanto—Noto Peninsula first.”
“Wait. Look, I wouldn’t mind going anywhere with you, but I just met you. This is crazy. On top of that, I feel awful sick. But even if I felt fine, I have a job and commitments in Tokyo.”
She approached him with care and with a look on her wrinkle-less face that radiated compassion. The palms of her hands reached out to his cheeks. She paused just short of touching him. Sam instinctively closed his eyes and soaked in her warmth despite the fact there was no actual contact.
She had the strangest effect on him. It was as if she was giving off healing and calming energy.
“I have already taken care of that. I took the liberty of getting your contact information from the nurse. Your boss was very understanding considering your accident.”
Opening his eyes, he said, “I don’t know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters where did you come from? How do you speak English so well? I mean, you are like a native—better than a native.”
“I lived in the States for a few decades, spent some time in England, and...”
“Wait. You—you can’t be much more than twenty-five. How is this possible?”
“Sam, I have lived a long time. I remember the fall of the shogunate. I actually saw Commodore Perry and his black ships. I was just a child then, but I remember.”
Sam’s mind told him that this was
impossible—that this was absurd. Perry opened Japan to the Western World in the 1850s. But something deeper within him urged him to believe the words of this stranger.
“There are certain realities beyond the temporal world. We humans are very often blind to the eternal and consider the current moment in time as the only reality.”
If it had been anyone else at any other time, he would have laughed it off. But here was the woman he had dreamed about for so long. A woman who knew all about him. And then there were those voices...
“As time drew on, it took less and less of its toll on me. I soon noticed that my friends were aging much faster than I was. Their wrinkling skin was in stark contrast to my smoothness. At first, it was a running joke among us—‘Baby Suteko’—but eventually, the consensus was I had been cursed. None of my friends would have anything to do with me.”
She sat on the bed next to him.
“One day, my mother, then in her sixties, took me on a trip and we never came back. She died shortly thereafter; I haven’t stopped moving. I would occasionally find a town to settle in for ten, maybe twenty years, but never longer.” She paused, lost in thought of countless days past. “Today, Tokyo affords me the chance to blend in. I can move across town but keep my bank accounts in order for the most part.”
“This is insane. H-how did you find out about me?”
“I didn’t know you were the man in my dreams, but a few months ago while visiting an old friend here, I heard the voices and realized someone would come to be in this very room who could hear them too. That person would be a survivor of an earthquake and an English speaker.”
Sam was surprised to realize that he had closed his eyes. He felt as he did at that moment during the earthquake—within a cocoon, warm and safe even as his understanding of the world was shattering. Suteko lowered her hands, and he slowly cracked open his eyes as he heard her speak.
