The Dreaming

Evie’s Totem lies quiescent in the shallow waters, his mind half awake, half asleep; dreaming and waiting.

She walks down to the sea, her brown toes splayed to gain purchase on the dry, shifting sand. The hot air is fragrant with salt and seaweed. This place is Bethany, home of her ancestors and final resting place of the Blessed Jo and Flo. Thousands of pilgrims visit Bethany each year to visit the Shrine and partake of the Holy Pumpkin Scones and Boiled Peanuts. She is thinking about the Gathering of the Tribes in the Bunya Mountains next month, shortly after her sixteenth birthday. He will be there, of course, the special boy with the beautiful eyes and chestnut hair. She shivers with excitement. She can’t wait to see him again and her many friends and relations, including auntie-mother and sister-cousins who live in Cherbourg.  She hasn’t seen her family since mother and father were taken by the floods, a year ago.

She spots a long, streamlined, familiar shape and wades through the water to greet her Totem.

Her bright dress is coiled on the damp sand like the shed skin of the Rainbow Serpent.

~~~

When the great floods came, slowly eating up the land, the surface of the oceans became clogged with floating junk from the drowned cities and suburbs. There were many bodies too, of course, but these were recycled naturally. Plastic was the main problem. World powers met for a year to hash out a solution. Meanwhile, an entrepreneur quietly explored the idea of a Sea World employee, who suggested that dolphins could be trained to collect the trash and deposit it in huge anchored bins which could then be towed and emptied into landfill.

Over the next ten years, the oceans sprouted millions of clustered, floating litter bins. The trained dolphins, given the freedom of the seas (with appropriate staged support), passed on their new trick and the habit was established in the wild population. Dolphins, irrespective of species, adopted the Clean Seas Policy with enormous enthusiasm.

In time, as human beings retreated to the mountains and struggled for survival, rubbish collection became the least of their concerns. The bins were full and would remain so. Deprived of their game, dolphins spent more time engaged in natural pursuits and consequently enjoyed a huge, but unrecorded growth in population.

~~~

This one is rare and special, a girl of the ancient Wakka Wakka tribe, full blood, almost a woman. He tunes in, feels her pleasure in the coolness of the water and the sun on her back. She is totally absorbed in play with her Totem, who rolls over and allows her to caress his belly. Such love and trust between these two. She is beautiful and innocent. One day she will be free and fulfilled, the mother of many sons and daughters. A large number of his collection will never know freedom; they are evil and undeserving, but a most interesting study. His thoughts turn to family.

“Are you there, Son?”

“Yes Father, how’s it going”?

“Bonza! I haven’t had so much fun in ages!” The son winces at “bonza”, but he’s used to his Father’s occasional archaic use of language.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Father, but I’m a bit concerned. The whole thing’s rather OTT, don’t you think? And you broke your promise.”

You know the way I work, Son. I like to do things from scratch. Everything was out of control. I took my eye off the ball for a while and they got up to all sorts of mischief. There were enough warnings after all, but they refused to listen.  Anyway, when the sea levels have fallen, I’ll return the land to its original state and then start introducing the fauna. There’s plenty of DNA in store to work with and I just might add a few new species. The oceans won’t need a lot of work really, but I’m thinking about tweaking the cetaceans, they haven’t reached their full potential.”

The Son sighed sadly. OK, Father, but I wish you’d discussed it me first. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, I’m thinking about a rehash of the story, same elements, roughly, but a changed, speeded-up version.”

Oh, God, thought the Son. He sighed again and mentally prepared himself for trouble.

“There’s this girl, fifteen years old, a virgin. She signed a celibacy contract with a church in Kingaroy. She’s one of ours, Son. I believe she’s the great hope of mankind. Unfortunately, her boyfriend was hit on the head by a Bunya nut on the evening of their betrothal ceremony, so I was thinking that you might come down and have a look at her, with a view to …”

“Oh, Father, haven’t I been through enough in your name?

“I see your point, but I’m not asking you to do that again, Son.”

“But, Father, presumably the first child will be a son? He paused to allow the implications to sink in. “I don’t think Mother will be happy with the idea either. Would you like a word?

“Not just now, Son, but give her my love. Think about what I’ve said. I’ll be back in a couple of days, your time, and we can discuss it then.”

“The girl’s Australian, isn’t she? Are you over Australia now?”

“Well, yes she is and yes I am, but how did you know?”

“The word ‘bonza’ was a clue, Father, and you always had a soft spot for Australia. After all, it’s God’s own country.” They smile and chuckle at the old joke.

“See you soon, Father. Love you.”

“Love you too, Son.”

The adolescent bottle-nose dolphin often passes this way with his pod, weaving through the myriad round objects lying on the sea bed. He has given up testing their perfect exteriors with his beak and using echo-location to see what they contain; it never works. This one draws him back, time after time. It looks like all the others, except for the image of a dolphin on its surface. He glides round and round, brushing the bubble. He enjoys the stroking sensation on his belly.

Evie, locked in an endless dream, smiles in her sleep.

~~~

“And GOD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.”
Genesis 6:5-6

Note: Lady (Flo) Bjelke-Petersen, widow of Sir Joh, former Premier of Queensland (RIP), enjoyed her 90th birthday in August 2010.  Long may she continue to bake her famous pumpkin scones. It is extremely unlikely that the good and gracious lady will ever read my story, but I mean no offence.