“The Dream”

THE DREAM by SUSAN HALE

“Oh goodness, is that Her? Can it really be…?” 

I lunge for the screen pad, groaning at the unexpected effort and nudging the cat slightly off my lap. Enough for her to give me an indignant “meow”. I quickly stroke the pad so that the TV screen zooms in on Her image. I rotate the 3D image in different directions but it is still quite fuzzy. I click on the search icon and wait. No Match Found.  Who is She? Every sense in my body is tingling, especially my Sixth Sense. The newscaster was reporting on a story in which a group of university students were peacefully protesting against racism and other ‘dirty tricks” in election campaigning. I just have time to notice that they are all women, when the story switches to another political topic. 

I can’t get Her out of my mind and I’m anxious to know more, but it’s another week before I see news of Her again. This time it is a report in the digital news. The e-video clearly shows that She is the leader of a group of women who were marching and chanting through streets in one of the gangster areas. Who is crazy enough to do that? They could be killed.

It seems that she was gathering a following from the resident women, inspiring them to put pressure on their men to stop the gang violence, to stop the killing of their young people, to bring peace to their community. Every new government that has come into power for the last three decades has promised to end the crime and gang wars, and each has failed. The warfare has only gotten progressively worse. What can She possibly hope to achieve?

The report gives Her name and I immediately scan social media for more information. This tells me that She is a twenty year old student at the University of the West Indies who seems to be very involved in social reform. I want to meet Her. 

I don’t go out much. Our walled community is self-contained, designed so that no one has much reason to go out. That way we keep safe from bandits. My small apartment is only three units away from my sister’s. Most of our friends also live in this community and the others are easily accessible via hologram chats. The workers in the shops, supermarket, health club and restaurants are strictly screened, as are all other visitors to the community. Almost all the residents who work or require schooling, do so via telecommuting. Deliveries by drones are becoming popular these days. Sophisticated surveillance and security systems ensure that no criminal elements from the “hot spots” outside the walls could endanger our lives. 

Still the gang wars rage. Most of the people who live outside the walls are actually law-abiding, trying hard to bring up their families in a decent way, and praying that their children would not be lured into a gang with a promise, or a threat. I know this because of the work I do with a charity that sponsors bright children from these areas to attend college overseas. The gangs wage war with each other over turf, and with the citizens over their money and possessions. They live rich on the proceeds from drug deals, manipulated by the mysterious ‘Mr. Bigs’. They enjoy the fruits of easy money – women, bling, cars. They don’t expect a long life so they live as fully and recklessly as they can. The more violent the gangsters become, the higher the walls are built and the more that electrified fortifications become the norm. 

The government has set up free internet connection for all, and in keeping with their “2030 vision”, everyone has access to the latest in e-education and e-government. That just makes the criminals better informed on how to get around the systems and, with their counterparts in the government agencies, drain the treasury with their corruption and thievery. The government aims for our small islands to be of First World status by 2030 – just five years away. All the tall smart-buildings and e-everything, all paid for with petro-dollars, will not improve our quality of life while the gangs are in control.

*****

I continue to monitor Her activities over the next few weeks. This is quite easy as the media have latched on to Her. They proclaim Her as a heroine. She has the women of a couple of the gangster communities following Her. Now they are conducting peaceful strikes, withholding their domestic and sexual duties from their menfolk, demanding that they stop their violent and criminal ways. How come they haven’t killed Her? Because the women have surrounded Her – the men will have to kill them first. It’s startling because it seems to be working. The women from the other “hot spot” communities are rallying with the same demands. 

The murder rate has dropped dramatically and this trend is accelerating every day. There is talk of mediation, a cease-fire, and amnesty. There is a call for the government to give jobs to the gangster men. After all, many of them are smart and well educated, and certainly have demonstrable leadership skills. The political parties are falling over themselves to promise employment. Each recognises the vote-catching draw of solving the crime problem. 

Today there is a historic meeting between the government and the gang leaders, none of whom are older than twenty-four. They have picked a neutral spot in the city – the Savannah park. There are crowds flocking to witness this event. The police and military presence is intense.  I want to go. She will be there. My sister says I am crazy and refuses to come with me. That’s Okay. In the dream, he said he would keep me safe. 

I check that the GPS signal is switched on on my wrist e-watch, and my sister insists that I test out the emergency alarm voice-activated device around my neck. She reminds me that our neighbour was kidnapped and strangled when he made a business trip to the southern end of the island a few months ago. This scares me but I take a deep breath and get into my bullet-proof electric car, the latest in personal security and energy efficiency. I check out through the security gates of the community wall. The security guards plead with me to take an armed guard with me. I refuse. I never liked the idea of a strange man, with a gun, sitting next to me. Who would protect me from him? 

The roads are normally empty as very few people have a strong enough reason to travel these days. Since the taxis stopped plying their trade and bus drivers refused to work for fear of bandits, two-wheeler transport has become popular on the empty roads for those outside the walls. The government had widened and improved the roads and highways to first world status, not realising that the crime crisis would actually solve the chronic traffic problem. That and technology to allow people to conduct their business without leaving home. All accelerated by necessity because of the pandemic of 2020. 

Now we are prisoners in paradise. No one dares to go to the beaches anymore. No one ventures out to enjoy our beautiful rainforests and exotic birdlife. 

Carnival, that wonderful bacchanalian spectacle that overwhelmed the entire island just before Lent, ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’, is now experienced as a minor event within each walled community. Large pan yards no longer exist, though our national instrument is still practised in heavily-guarded community centres around the country. Major sports events are all held in our safer sister-isle, Tobago. Damning travel advisories ensure that few tourists are brave enough to visit. How life has changed in the last ten years. I am glad I was around to enjoy all those good things in my youth. Children are now growing up to expect their physical world to be confined to their walled community, with their only chance of escape being through virtual reality. They seem happy with this.

Today, however, there is traffic on the roads. The people are being drawn to the Savannah. As I drive along, I am saddened, as always, by the sight of once grand homes, now derelict and looted, abandoned because they exist outside of a community wall.

I join the many cars parked on the outskirts of the Savannah. I begin to doubt myself. I am all alone amongst the crowds, and terrified. Nevertheless, I have no choice and I push my way through the crowds. There are all classes of people and all ages represented here. Many are wearing face masks, still anxious about the ravages of the virus. But I feel protected. 

I begin to breathe heavily. People seem to sense my urgency and let me through, until I am near to the make-shift stage that has been set up in the middle of the Savannah. There is a row of soldiers with weapons on all sides of the stage, and a helicopter hovers noisily overhead. News-drones also buzz overhead, recording the event for posterity. The crowd is nervous. Is it really safe here?  

She is already on the stage and just starting to talk. The crowd becomes hushed, tense but expectant. Even the helicopter has moved to a respectful distance so that only her words fill the air. I feel like I am in a trance. A sense of calmness and peace fills my being. She exudes comfort and love. She speaks in the lilting local parlance. I am not aware of what She is saying. I only know that I don’t want Her to stop. 

She is beautiful, dressed in a spectacular blue and gold sari with a thin decorated veil on her head. She is looking at me and smiling. I realise that She is beckoning to me as She walks off the stage. The soldiers make way for me and suddenly I am standing in front of Her. I fight a strong impulse to genuflect. 

“I have been expecting you,” She says. 

“So it’s true. You are the ….” I blurt out.

“Hush,” She says. “Don’t say anything to anyone yet. Until I’m ready. We can’t talk here. Too much is happening today. Give me your contact info and I’ll be in touch.”

We touch e-watches to transfer our details. I back away. The crowds are closing in and are now chanting Her name. I fight my way out through the incoming current of people. I jump into my car and command it to go home. My heart is still beating fast as adrenaline races through my veins. This is unbelievable. 

*****

Two weeks pass before She calls me. The suspense has been agonising. During that time, the Savannah Accord agreement has been drafted and signed between the gang leaders and the government. Everyone is hopeful and upbeat. If this is the end of the gang wars, then we have seen a miracle. Social media has lit up with the news and the international media are now reporting on it. The Prime Minister is taking credit for this historic event and milking it for all its political worth. The attention is now on the gang leaders who are enjoying this unaccustomed positive interest and significance in their lives. The opposition party, however, is pointing out that the gangsters are murderers and thieves and should be brought to justice.

“Meet me by the entrance of the botanical gardens in an hour,” She says.

“Is that safe? I haven’t been there in years,” I reply.

“Times are changing. Anyway, you know you are safe,” She chides.

She is already waiting by the Information Hut as I park my car under a surveillance camera. This time she is dressed as a modern young woman, in jeans and t-shirt with her bald head stained in a swirl of blues and greens, as is the fashion these days. One of Her ears has a string of gold earrings pierced into it. I acknowledge the armed security guard by the car park. As I walk towards Her, my skin tingles. I sense not only calmness and peacefulness as before, but also a forcefulness of character radiating from Her. 

“Let’s walk,” She says.

We pass through the arched sensors at the entrance of the gardens. I had forgotten how lovely these grounds are, with majestic Samaan tree branches spreading vast circles of shade while tall Flamboyant trees shed blossoms in carpets of red, together with Pouis competing with mats of brilliant yellow. Birds are singing chirpy songs and the sky is azure blue. As I always do, I find myself envying the birds their freedom to go wherever they please. I can hear the sound of a lion roaring and parrots squawking from the nearby zoo. What a joy to be out on a day like today. We follow the paved path that winds between the trees and shrubs, urging us towards the beds of brilliantly coloured flowers in the distance.

“So my dream …,” I start.

“Yes.  We met.” 

“But how … what….” I don’t know how to start with my questions.

“Don’t try to explain it.  It just is.  Do you remember what he said?”

“Yes.  He said I was to help you.” 

“And will you?”

“Of course.  But what can an old woman like me do to help you? Um, change that to a person of many years!” I still have trouble acknowledging my age though I must seem ancient to this young woman.

She laughs. “As you will remember, I come from a poor family. The government has sponsored my education up to first degree level. I‘m graduating soon but I need to learn more, and at an international level, so that I can continue my work everywhere. A Master’s degree in global peace-making would also give me more credibility.”

I consider this. “You want me to help you get a scholarship?” I said with my thoughts racing. “Of course, I’ll get the NGO that I do voluntary work for to sponsor you as a Peace Fellow in England!”

“That would be perfect,” She says.

“I can see that would qualify you to work at an international level in any position that promotes peace in the world. But you have to have very special qualities, like speak at least three languages fluently. “

“You don’t think I’m competent enough?” She laughs, and then proceeds to talk in a sing-song dialect. “That was Hindi, my mother’s tongue. How about some Spanish and French,” and I easily recognise the sound of those melodic languages, if not the content. “I am also comfortable in German, Japanese and Mandarin.”

“Wow. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“You won’t have any problems with the scholarship application. I would like you to be my mentor.”

“Huh!  But I am not worthy …,” I start, feeling the same sense of inadequacy as in my dream.

“Don’t say that!” She interrupts. “You have been chosen, remember?”

We place our feet carefully on to stepping stones leading us across a small running stream at one side of the gardens. The scent of flowers reminds me of my youth playing in this park. There are only a few people around, mostly families with children running about and an obligatory bodyguard trailing behind. It will take some time for people to get used to feeling safe. A passing young couple smile at Her in recognition.

She continues, “You are intelligent, educated, well connected and an accomplished business woman with a good knowledge of finance and international contracts. You are also well travelled and well versed in the arts and music. You are an accomplished author and blogger. You have a reputation for honesty and integrity. You are spiritual, though not tied to any religion. You have compassion and a wish to make the world a better place. Best of all, you are retired comfortably and in good health with no dependents. So you have the qualities to serve the cause and the time to devote to it.”

“What cause is that?” I ask, not feeling entirely convinced about being the best person for the job.

“We are going to rescue the world from the evil that is destroying it. There’s an anger in people everywhere, and also in nature. Riots around the world at perceived injustices are now normal. Haven’t you noticed that nature is also fighting humanity and culling people through ever more destructive storms, floods, wildfires, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, and so on? We have to change man’s wanton destruction of the environment, make peace with each other, and restore balance to our world.”

“Um, sounds great….  Just the two of us are going to do all that?” I ask nervously.

“No, of course not.” She grins. “We will rally the people and get them to change their own leaders. Look how easy it was to start change here. This is just the beginning.”

“I’m curious. How did you get those women to stand up to their gangster men? Why did the men listen to them and not kill them?”

She smiled. “I have a special talent for calming people’s minds. I talked to the women and their men. Everyone has good in them, no matter how terrible their actions. Do you think those gangster boys had a real choice in how they led their lives? They lived in a vicious cycle that they couldn’t get out of alive. Once they saw there was a way out, and everyone was backing it, and they could be free to choose decency and love, then of course they went for it. No one liked living either inside or outside of the walls, and these will start coming down now. The government will help to transition the gangsters into a more productive life. We have to work on forgiveness now.”

“You’ve saved our country. It’s still hard to comprehend what happened. And all with no violence. What do you plan to do now?”

 “We’ll get the women of the world to stand up and take charge. Women are nurturers by nature and inclined to social advocacy, and so are less likely to destroy the environment for greedy purposes or make war for some perceived reason of superiority or entitlement. It’s no coincidence that there are now more women in government and business leadership roles than there are men. People have more faith in women caring about what’s right and making the necessary changes to get things done. But there is so much evil out there stopping real change. We have to fight it.”

“Who exactly is ‘we’?”

“I will rally a team when the time is right,” She says. “You are not the only one to have had the dream.” She smiles at me.

At this point I notice a young man running down the path towards us. I immediately reach for my emergency alarm device hanging around my neck. Then I realise he’s just a jogger. It’s going to take some practice to be comfortable with the new times. We are now passing the orchid house and I look up at the sloping hill behind it, resplendent with more golden Poui trees. There is something very calming and uplifting about that brilliant colour.

“The team will be diverse in terms of skills, age, nationality, ethnicity, religious background. In fact, diverse in every way except one….we will all be women. That’s what’s going to make the impact.”

 My mind is buzzing with these images. “I think it could work!” I exclaim at last. “So that is why you came as a woman?”

She laughs. “Yes. But it’s a long and difficult and dangerous road ahead. There are malevolent forces that will do everything in their power to discredit and stop us. It’s not for the faint-hearted. I know you have what it takes. Are you ready for this?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” I have not felt so excited and so alive in years. We are coming to the end of the track, which has circled back to the car park.

“Okay. You can go home and start your blog now, but no publishing until I say so.  We’ll be in touch.” With that, She waves goodbye, slips on a helmet and mounts an ancient moped parked near to my car.

Suddenly, a group of reporters, photographers and camera people emerge from various vehicles parked nearby. They rush at Her clamouring for answers to their questions. Someone must have tipped them off that She was in the Gardens. She smiles at them, shakes Her hand in denial and speeds away. I quietly slip into my car before they notice me. I feel honoured to have shared so much time with Her.

*****

For someone who has just met me, She sure knows me well. I am itching to write all this down. Back in my apartment, I pull out my Tablet from my desk drawer, and start to type:

The Dream

It was late afternoon on a Carnival Tuesday. I was chipping along the Foreshore as our large mas’ band was heading for Cocorite for Las Lap before turning onto the overpass that leads into St. James. Suddenly a gorgeous young man appears in the midst of the masqueraders and bacchanal and raucous Soca music, and tells me to follow him. He has a radiant presence that you did not say ‘no’ to. I probably had some grog in my head as who goes off like that with strange men? (Scratch that, I know plenty who would!) 

Anyway, he takes me to a small, dilapidated house somewhere in St. James. We go inside and there is a little girl, probably about three or four years’ old, sitting on a high-backed chair with several women attending to her. The women are all dressed in saris. I presume one of them is her mother. The little girl says nothing but looks at me, while she radiates intelligence, love and goodness. Her aura is breath-taking. 

The man says to me ‘I want you to look after her.’ 

‘But I don’t know anything about children. I’m not at all maternal!’ I protest.

He replies ‘No, when she grows up.’

‘But I’ll be old then. I may be frail or not even be alive!’

He says ‘Don’t worry. I’ll always keep you safe and healthy.’

That’s when I woke up, feeling very excited, and thinking what a weird dream that was. The Archangel Gabriel just introduced me to The Messiah!