Soon after, he awoke one morning to the smell of cooking rabbit and he could hear the movement of another in his hogan. Feeling a warm touch on his face, he heard Lame Deer speak. “I have loved you since my eyes first set upon you and from this day forth, I will be your wife in all things.” He could hear the slight sobs in Lame Deer’s voice. “And in time you, too, will grow to love me,” she told him. It was then that his dreams began, dreams that would foretell of the fortune, dreams that came true. And with this, his name was changed to Man of Darkness.
In time the people knew that although he was blind, the gods had done this to him so in his darkness he would be the eyes of the tribe. He would dream and know if the year would be a good year. His dreams told him of good harvests, or good hunts. His dreams had foretold of the coming brown men and also of their explusion from the land. Of impending danger. He was not like other medicine men, sitting for hours in smoky rooms, eating peyote. His dreams came on their own. Cloaked in perpetual darkness, he was one step closer to the other world than other men. And now with his old age, Man of Darkness was the most revered of all the medicine men. No man in the tribe from greatest warrior to the men of the council had as much power over the tribe as Man of Darkness. But now with all the recent bad and confusing dreams, Man of Darkness’s heart was filled with despair. Without Lame Deer he knew inside himself he would just as soon be dead and gone from this world.
“It is a sunny and bright day, my husband,” Lame Deer spoke as they came out of the mud and rock home. Man of Darkness was still confused and musing over his dream that had sent the young warriors out onto the land looking for impending danger. He stood and breathed deep the morning air and pictured the sights around him. The memories of sight were bright as though he were young. He could see the running children and the dogs. He could see the sunrise and the curling of cedar smoke from the bread ovens. All things he could see as bright and fresh as though his eyes were alive and well and not dark sunken spots without spirit. He sat down on the ground in front of the house as Lame Deer went to the river to fetch water. Taking from a pouch on his belt a soft stone, he began to rub it gently. It was a magical stone, able to drift one into their thoughts, pulling out the doubts and confusions and leaving one rested and secure. But although he had sat the last days rubbing the stone, looking for answers, the stone had not brought him peace or answers but only more confusion and unrest.
Ever since Man of Darkness’s gift had been shown to the tribe, he had never felt confused. There had not always been good years, but there had been no confusion, and now he did not know what to do with the confusion or questions. Maybe the gods were taking his powers away. Maybe they were slowly giving his powers to a younger man as yet unknown to the tribe. It was strange. He had tried all his medicines but to no avail.
The dream had come as all the others, unexpected and unsearched. He never knew when the dream would come to him. They just came. Came in brilliant flashes of color and sound. Far more distinct than any mere focus of the eye. There were colors and shapes never seen by man that entered his mind. Shapes and sounds that only he could decipher. But this dream was beyond deciphering. Lame Deer had finished cooking dinner and all around him he could smell the odor of the fresh deer. After eating he had sat smoking his pipe peacefully when the dream came. There had been a large bright red heart that suddenly appeared in the sky. A heart that beat so loud it pained Man of Darkness’s ears and made him wince. Flowing out of the heart were the souls of his people. Each soul twisted in agony and each soul was covered with an object from the earth. There were trees and cactus, lizards and birds, deer and elk, buffalo and fish, but they were all dead. Dead and contorted in pain. And then from the heart came the earth. But it was not an earth of mountains and rivers, land and water. It was an earth covered with tall buildings like no man had ever seen. And in the buildings were men dressed in clothes unlike any man had seen. Clothes that fit close to the body and choked one. And the people were sad, but at the same time smiling. But the smiles were short and selfish. With one gasp the earth split open and all the plants and animals upon the face of the earth came out as teardrops. Great rushing torrents of water that were salty and dark. Water that swept out until the earth floated upon it like some floundered fish. And with a great rush the earth began to shrink and the large buildings that stood taller than any mountain began to crumble one upon each other until the earth and the animals and all things upon the face of the earth vanished into a small pinpoint of sand and then the grain of sand disappeared, and there was nothing.
Man of Darkness felt as though a great void had swallowed him. There was no life, no living creature. But then out of the darkness another earth appeared. A smooth orb of darkness that had strange crisscrosses running across it. A taut shiny object stretched between cut trees that crisscrossed the earth and in each of these crisscrosses was a house. Houses like the Spaniards built, but the men and women moving in the houses were not brown like the Spaniards — they were white and black and yellow. And they also were sad. Tears flowed from their eyes but they could not speak. Man of Darkness could see in their eyes great sorrow and unrest, deep fear. Then for a moment the dream had stopped and Man of Darkness took a deep breath, glad the dream was over, but then in another rush of color and sound the dream started again. A great tree with many branches came bursting forth from out of the earth. And on each branch was a member of the tribe. But they were not moving or alive but they were not dead either. And scattered on the tree were all the tools and implements of the people. Unused. And in a booming voice the earth spoke: I am lost. My people are dying. I, the mother, will forsake you, my people.
After the dream, Man of Darkness sat, the sweat dripping off his brow. With his strength regathered, he had Lame Deer lead him to the chief and in clipped statements he told the chief of the dream. But he could not tell him the meaning. There were no buildings taller than mountains, there were no objects that dissected the earth. But there was a danger, and with careful consideration the chief decided to send the young warriors out, keeping behind the majority of the warriors to guard the tribe.
Man of Darkness sat and rubbed the stone, beckoning with all his might for the gods to help him. Around him he could smell the smell of death, but he could also hear the sounds of the children and women. Down from his home several men spoke of the plentiful deer this year and others commented on the abundance of the corn crop. All was well, but there was a cloud, a deep dark impenetrable cloud that surrounded Man of Darkness.
Man of Darkness heard his wife returning with the water. He could tell her walk from the others. The one step and then the sliding of the lame leg. If only he could tell her of the beauty he knew she possessed. If only he could make her heart warm with his love. But whenever he tried to speak, there were no words that could convey his feeling. Lame Deer handed Man of Darkness a gourd full of water. “It is a beautiful day, my husband,” she spoke. “Hear the children play. Soon the warriors will be back.”
“How is Flying Bird?” he asked.
“Lame Deer smiled, “Her heart yearns more and more each day, but it is a good test of her love. What is love without its portion of pain? Love, as all things, must be tempered with life.” Man of Darkness drank the water and smiled. Lame Deer entered the tent to fix the morning meal.
Man of Darkness stood and stretched his tired old body. It had been a good life. All around him he could feel the wonders of the world. He could touch the blueness of the sky and the flight of the birds. He could see the fishes swimming in the river and hear the joy songs of the children. With his feet on the ground and his hands held up to the sky, he began to sing: “Mother, Mother of us all, bring to me the answers. It is dark and your dreams confuse me. I am old and slow, my mind tortures for the truth. Mother, O Mother, Mother of us all, let me taste of the truth. Bring to me the smell of the rain and the taste of the dirt that is our soul. Take from me the darkness that engulfs me not in sight but in mind.”
But there came no answers and after a few moments the old medicine man had to sit down and rest. Sitting down on the ground, he ran his fingers over the earth. “The earth has forsaken us,” he murmered. “The mother is hiding in her sorrow.”
That afternoon as Man of Darkness sat in meditation, the warrior