Light Water
The End or the Beginning?
Leo Dauenhauer
Copyright © 2022 Leo Dauenhauer
All rights reserved.
This recounting of a dream is dedicated to all whose lives are stressful or changing for reasons out of their control. It illustrates the care and guidance of a loving God for His people in time of crises. Because it was so unusual, I wrote it as soon as I woke up, and this is all written exactly as I remembered it. I hope that the Peace I had in the dream will be yours as you climb your mountains of difficulty.
Chapter 1 - Gravity is changing
Chapter 3 - There's A Hole in the Sky
Chapter 4 - We Take Off Our Packs
I am grateful to my wife, April, for encouraging me to keep writing. Her insistence that my stories have value has persuaded me to publish them, first in a blog, then in a book.
Chapter 1 - Gravity is changing
Gravity is changing, and the oceans are becoming lighter. Scientists are divided - is it really that gravity is changing, or that the strong force holding nuclei together is weakening - causing water and everything else to expand. It is hard to tell, since in that case all gauges and measuring rods would expand.
The question is quickly resolved, since objects that used to be used as the government's standards for an ounce or a pound are slowly showing less weight in the scales. The moon is receding, and the tides are becoming less, but the water is relentlessly expanding like rising bread dough.
I live in a small coastal town on a small island. There is only one mountain, an extinct volcano. It is a little over 5,000 feet high. The ocean is expected to rise higher than that, in less than a month.
The world is occupied with mass migrations of people in densely populated areas like LA. We run into our huts after hearing the news on our radios, and viewing the rising tides that have already overtaken part of our town. We hastily pack bags, and begin calmly walking up the hill.
Somehow our friends are drifting toward us as we make our way up the steep and pathless brush covered side of the volcano. One by one, they silently join us, smiling, but saying nothing as we continue our hike. We don't rush, but we don't stop, except for meals. We always put up a tent for our meals, which become a time of quietly enjoying each other's company.
Although we hadn't planned anything, one of us brought a canvas tent in his pack - another brought stakes and ropes, another mallet to pound the stakes into the ground. One brought a huge tarp that is folded several times to make the floor, with little extra mounds for resting on. The inside of the tent is always different, but just the right size and shape to be comfortable for everyone. I am a little surprised that no one talks, but it doesn't seem necessary. We understand the intentions of each person as soon as they come into being, and we all cooperate. Perhaps we have come together because we are all in agreement and harmony with each other. Words seem an impediment to understanding and communication, not an asset.
Each of us has brought a tiny portion of food, just enough for one meal. Each one has brought something different - one a type of meat, another vegetables, another grain or meal, and so on. For the first meal, we all joyfully contribute all that we have, holding back nothing. We all eat well, not too much and not too little, and take a small nap after our first meal.
Then, one rises and the others follow, taking down the tent and packing it up as if we had done it hundreds of times before. We even anticipate what another might do - clearing a rock of our cups, just before it is needed for the folding of the large tarp, for instance. We are all smiling and happy, but still no one has said a word. No one has a name, as such, but each has a distinctive set of habits and a personality. This is their name. "Quick to Help" will stride over to "broad smiles" to ensure that her pack is fastened properly, for instance. For this, he gets a broad smile, which warms his heart, and is more than just a reward.
In this way, we continue. In a few hours, it is time for another meal. No one hesitates to reach for the bag which had contained their food at the last stop. Though they had emptied it, no one is surprised that it is now refilled with exactly what it had before. In some cases, there is a bit more, or a bit less. Very rarely, the contents might have changed slightly. Somehow, this always makes again for a perfect meal, though slightly different than the one before.
Heavy rains begin, slowing us down. Flood waters are streaming down the volcanoes side, funneled together in spots to become dangerous torrents that appear from nowhere. One, "the thinker", always staring off into space, pokes about in his bag and comes up with a large, soft, cotton rope - without taking his gaze off something far in the distance. He ties it to himself, and then passes it on. In a few minutes we are all tied together.
As soon as we are finished, we are hit by a wall of water, pouring down the mountain. A lip of the volcano has torn free, pushed out by the enormous weight of the lake that suddenly filled up the volcanoes interior. We are all swept off our feet and the very middle of our rope catches around the bare trunk of a tall, sturdy old tree. The bark is smooth, and the branches are few , but with a few short hops, those of us close to the tree pull ourselves up far above the water, and begin pulling our comrades in, carefully and slowly, so as not to hurt them.
In less time than it takes to tell, all of our party, nine in all, are far above the slowly receding flood below us as the volcano empties out its new lake. The temperature drops suddenly, and we are all cold. Finally, the lake has emptied itself, and we are now above muddy ground. Several other groups of hikers that had been behind us are no longer in sight. We gather in a circle, taking hands, and bow our heads. There is no need to speak. Our hearts cry out for our brothers, and our love hopes for their safety and life. A warm peace slowly seeps into each of us as we realize that everyone behind us is alive and well, though many have been swept back to the edge of the ever-rising sea. It is all OK. We are all going to the same place, and there is no such thing as being early or late where we are going. Everything is always right on time. Though we may get there before them, we will not be early and they will not be late. It is comforting, but we are still wet and cold.
One of our members trots off to the side, and comes back with an armful of dry wood, beckoning us to follow him. We trot behind him, and soon spy a huge tree that was knocked over by the flood. The upper side of its trunk is dry, and its branches are easily broken free. Best of all, there is a large bole where lightning struck long ago. It is a hole drilled into the heart of the tree, and the trunk has splintered and the bark buckled, forming a chimney that can draw away the smoke from the flames. We all toss our sticks, twigs and branches into the large bole, taller and wider than a man in height. When it is partially filled, we stop. Now what?
The youngest of us all, barely more than a child, reaches into his pocket, and takes out a strange little plastic flashlight which opens up to show that it is filled with wooden matches. One is all it takes to get our fire going. While this is going on, "the thinker" is climbing up springy branches, snapping some off, and tying others together with twine from his kit. Eventually we see that this is forming a circular wall around us all, breaking the wind, and harboring the heat from the now glowing fire. "Quick to help" throws a few more logs on it, and stacks several more nearby, then makes a rake of twigs and sweeps the area around the low burning fire free of debris.
"Small but quick" is a young girl with a brilliant smile who runs back and forth depositing green springy twigs all around the edge of the bole, until it is like one big, springy mattress. Now the carrier of the tarp takes it out, and winds it around and around, forming a mattress that circles the fire as well. It appears to be a random set of bumps and lumps, but each of us finds a place where we can rest our head as if on a pillow, and we warm our backs and dry out our wet clothes as we wear them. The windbreak traps the gentle breeze, and circulates the warmth of the fire round and round and round as if it was a forced air furnace.
A few stomachs growl, and "One who eats a lot" acts startled, and then pulls on a wire that leads into the heart of the fire. He deftly pulls out a large chunk of meat, a deer that had been struck by the tree and died instantly. No one saw him butcher it or prepare it, but now it is more than enough to feed us all for several days. We eat our fill, as "One who eats a lot" cuts, pounds, salts and makes strips of jerky for our trail. He is assisted by all those around him, who seem to sense what he needs even before he needs it. We are now taking this for granted. We are all connected, as if we are one organism, all of our nervous systems interconnected. Somehow, we sense possible actions instantly for every occasion, and then act as one to select the best action and to do our part. It is almost effortless.
Each evening, just before we go to bed, "The Tinkerer" takes out his radio. Oddly, he has two names - the other one being "The Fixer". His name changes with his mood. Usually, in the evening, it is "The Tinkerer" who pulls out his tiny battery powered radio, and attaches it to a long piece of very thin wire, always aligned horizontally with a line drawn to the mainland. He does this with great care, placing it high overhead, or if that is not possible, tying many little pieces of white cotton yarn to it so that it is visible.
As he is preparing, we all gather up our dessert or the rest of our meal - or just a cup of soup or coffee - and gather around him. We try to form a near perfect circle around him, favoring those that are older to be the closest if that is not possible due to terrain. We are all very close, and strain to listen to the news on the little radio. He only plays it for 10-15 minutes a night, whether or not we have received any useful news. We started out our trek with innumerable channels yammering about the disastrous change to gravity. Each night it seemed that the number was fewer. All last week, just a few channels could be heard - two from New York, and one from Los Angeles, from high in the Hollywood hills. Tonight is a sad night. The little radio squeaks and yowls, occasionally going silent - but all the channels are silent. "The Tinkerer" tinkers, then "The fixer" takes the radio apart and puts it back again, stowing it away with a sad face. He has discovered that there is nothing wrong with the radio. We will try again tomorrow.
The first few days, fishing vessels and the occasional freighter hugging the freight lanes could be seen where the foliage was thin enough to see the ocean all around us. For a week, we have seen no boats, no ships. Our spirits are heavy, and we all walk a little slower than we had at first. Still, there is always a smile, a helping hand, a comforting pat, a little candy for a child offered by one of us or another, always the right thing at the right time. We are all still in harmony, but there seems to be less of the world to harmonize with. We wish we knew what was happening to the billions of others on our world. After a few more days we are very close to the top.
The water is always just a few hundred feet behind us. Even if we climb four or five hundred feet in a day, the water seems to rise about the same. It is always within a few hundred feet of us when we arise in the morning. There are only a few hundred more feet to go, but no one is concerned. We don't know what we will do in the morning, but we know it will be the right thing. Tomorrow we will climb to the top of the volcano, and perhaps the water will stop rising - or maybe we will be saved by a boat. No one is concerned. Tomorrow will take care of itself. We know we will be fine.
That night, we sit down to eat with the same thin candle giving light inside our tent that we have used for almost a month. It is the size of a child's finger, but it has not grown shorter. It actually seems to be brighter than when we first started using it. Warmed by the cook fire, we are all bundled up and curled up around the Tinkerer, who has just finished tying and aligning his antenna. He appears satisfied, dusts off his hands, and pulls two fresh batteries out of a little purse in his pack. We had never seen him do this before. He carefully removes the old batteries, puts them in the purse and installs the new batteries into his tiny radio. Then he turns it on.
A voice booms out, "Pray for us"! Screams are barely heard in the background of the voice, a man's voice, cultured and refined - and unafraid. "Our ship is overloaded and has capsized!" the voice continues.
We run toward each other, grab hands in a circle, and bow our heads. Each one prays silently in his heart. We have no one to lead us in prayer as a group. But we all know that each one is praying for the lives of those on the ship, especially the children, to be spared.
"A light!" the voice says, sounding in awe, perhaps a bit afraid. His voice seemed to carry a tremor, or some great emotion. "Look at the light" he says again, a sentence formed from a long sigh - a single exhaled breath, forming words. It could be utter amazement. It could be resignation. We continue praying. "We're…the boat… is righting itself!! The water is gushing back out the portholes and off the deck. My God, My God!" the main shouts, his voice filled with joy. Then nothing. The tinkerer seems to suspect that the radio has broken at a very inopportune time, and eventually takes it apart and puts it back together again. We get no more signals or stations that night. It is strange, but our hearts are filled with joy that our prayers were heard.
The next day Strong Legs runs far ahead of the rest of us. Trail Breaker follows behind, whacking limbs and branches that might trip with his machete. He also marks the side of trees in the language he has taught us all - the language of the trails, notated in slashes on the bark of trees, broken branches and twigs that point at odd angles. Our eyes have learned to read his notes as if they were written on the page of a book, so we are all comfortable with the trail. It winds steadily upward, twisting and turning to avoid gushing brooks of melted snow and ice. We have recently learned that icebergs all over the world have melted, as the expansion of their molecules has generated internal heat pushing them beyond the melting point. One fact about the reduce gravity that we are thankful for, is that even the heaviest of us now weighs only about 40 pounds.
We verified this with Bow Hunter, whose bow's pull is 45 pounds. Although it still feels the same to pull, Bow Hunter has had to re-sight his bow's sights every other day, at least. The reduced gravity has resulted in a flatter trajectory at the longer distances. He says it has been a very predictable amount each day. Apparently the gravity reduction is consistent for each day. At first, Bow Hunter would tie the hand grip of his bow to a tree with a rope, and then invite us to step on the string, to see if it would go down. When he started this, even a ten year old boy would push the string down with his weight. After just a few days, the string stayed flat, and Bow Hunter asked a larger child to get on the string, and it went down a bit. Now the largest of us, Cheerful Leader, who used to weigh over three hundred pounds, weighs less than forty five pounds. At least, when he steps on the string it remains almost perfectly flat - so the Thinker says he has lost over 250 pounds on our short hike!! It is a funny joke, but odd also, to think that we have all lost so much weight. Where will it end? What is happening?
One of us, the Thinker, pointed out that for us to perceive the reduction as changing in a linear fashion, it would actually have to be changing in an exponential manner at the nuclear level. None of us understood that, but of course we believed him. It was interesting, but not exciting. Where the water would be tomorrow morning was exciting. It should be over our heads by about two to three hundred feet, since we always climbed four or five hundred feet each day - and it always caught up to us the next morning. Today we would only climb about 200 feet, then stop at the top of the volcano. But we knew things will work out somehow, and are as cheerful as always as we help each other travel, holding bushes out of each other's way, and holding hands over the slippery spots.
One of us, Cheerful Mother, has to be very careful as she walks, because she is six months pregnant, and the change to her center of gravity is an added challenge. We all go out of our way to help her along. Nobody seems concerned, and our thoughts are turned toward the Light. How will the Light help us? We don’t have a ship that is overturned - but it is like we have a whole ocean that is gaining on us! It is exciting, and we wonder what the Light will do about the approaching water. We expect it will be greater than we can imagine, but still no one says anything. We are still journeying together, and the time for talking has not come.
I see a thatch of blond hair as we round a turn, and then we all behold Strong Legs, at the very top of a large old dead tree, growing up from the highest point of the lip of the volcano. He is standing, peering off to the left and the right, scouting the oceans for a boat, or even a raft. Now that we are on the lip of the volcano above the tree line, we can see water all around us, and how tiny our island has become.
All of us gather around the bottom of the tree, and Strong Legs comes down to be with us. He is weeping. He is sad and anxious. This is wrong. We are not to be anxious! I look around for Friend Jerry. He used to be a Baptist pastor - and still is - but his congregation is all gone, somewhere else. He doesn't know how he came to be with us, instead of with them. None of us know or remember how we got to this island either. Up until now, we hadn't worried about it, but now, one way or another, each of us begins to worry.
"We should probably pray" Pastor Jerry said, quietly. I almost fell off my rock, his voice felt so loud after so many days of absolute silence with no talking, no sound of a human voice. A human voice is louder than a bird, louder than a brook. It was really quite shocking. He clapped a hand to his mouth, but it was too late. The spell was broken, and now each of us was disconnected from all the others. Our confidence that the Light would save us was suddenly gone, and we all fell to the ground, weakened, alone and afraid.
"We really can't do anything else" Cheerful Leader said. "We are at the top of the volcano, and the water will be here in a few hours. Then we will have to swim."
The thinker came around a turn just as Cheerful Leader spoke, counting off paces as he rounded it. He stopped. "Thirty Four" he said. "That's just sixty-eight feet to the water from here. This volcano is about 2,000 feet high, and we have been traveling for four days - so the water is rising about 500 feet a day. That's a little over 20 vertical feet an hour. I'm sorry to say that the water will be here in about an hour - maybe a little less.
None of us followed his logic, but we knew he was right. The sun was starting to set, and a cold fog was rising from the sea all around us. The blue sky that we were used to was suddenly light gray, then dark gray, then very dark gray - like sunset. We all huddled around pastor Jerry, who used to be friend Jerry, and held hands. "Pray for us" we said to him. "Let's pray together" he said. "OK", we agreed. "I'll start" he said. "OK" we said. Everyone was very calm.
"Jesus, help us" he said. I had forgotten about Jesus. There was something about Light that I was trying to remember. "Jesus is.. Jesus is… I can't remember" I said. It was disappointing, but OK. "Do you remember?" I asked Pastor Jerry.
"Jesus is the Light of the World" pastor Jerry said. "Wow, that's right! I almost forgot!" I said. I was filled with joy, but it was very dark.
Pregnant lady said, "Can we pray some more?" "Sure" Pastor Jerry said. We all held hands. "Go ahead" Pastor Jerry said to the lady.
"Jesus, pastor Jerry is right. We need your help. Please help us, Lord Jesus." It was a good prayer. We all said "Amen" from our hearts, at once. All the voices were very loud. I jumped a little, but nobody noticed.
"Look! A hole in the sky!" someone said. He was Quiet Thinker. He just sat quietly and thought whenever he could. He never did anything else, but that was his job, so it was OK. He was doing his job by thinking. Now he was pointing at a little ray of light that was peeking through the fog.
"It's just a little stray beam of light. It will go away soon" someone said. We were all very still.
"No, Look! Look with your inside eyes at where I'm pointing" Quiet Thinker said. I looked up, looking with my outside eyes. I couldn't find anything with my inside eyes. Where were they? "Where are your inside eyes? I don't know how to find mine!" I said to Quiet Thinker. "Oh - your inside eyes are the ones that see what you know is there, but what you can't touch or see. You could say they are your eyes of Faith - of Believing". "Look up at where I'm pointing, but with eyes of Faith" he said.
I looked. The fog rolled away from that tiny little point of light, and it became a big patch of the purest, whitest, light that I had ever seen. I had once wondered how bright it was inside a nuclear reactor when we learned about such things at school. This light was brighter than anything that I had even imagined. It seemed so bright that everything it touched should go up in flames, but it was a cool, peaceful light, not one that burned and destroyed. The more I stared at that light, the brighter it became. It was so bright it was as much brighter than the sun than as if the sun was a glow-worm, and this light shining through a hole in the sky was the sun.
Chapter 3 - There's A Hole in the Sky
"There is a hole in the sky" I said. "And it's so bright - but it doesn't hurt to look at it". "Now you're seeing with your inside eyes, Pastor Jerry said. He was all excited, which was very rare for any of us. "Now tell me, what does the hole in the sky look like?"
I stared at the hole in the sky. It was so bright, but it filled me with peace, and it was cool not hot. It was enjoyable to stare at, and things started happening in my head and heart. It was like things were getting turned on, and I started knowing things. I saw new things that were always there, but were not in my sight, not in my knowledge.
"It's Jesus!" the pregnant lady said. She started getting bright, like the hole in the sky. Then she started going up toward it, like it was a magnet, and she was a little sliver of steel - but she didn't shoot up toward it, she just floated slowly. I stared at her feet as they left the ground. She didn't seem to notice. She was staring at the hole in the sky.
"I think we should all hold hands" pastor Jerry said, reaching up and grabbing one of her hands before she was out of range. She stopped floating up, and just bobbed around, not caring or noticing - just staring up at the hole in the sky. "It's Jesus" she would say every now and then.
We all ran up toward each other and held hands. We knew Pastor Jerry was right. We should all hold hands. When we were all one big long human chain of nine people, Pastor Jerry prayed, "Lord Jesus, give us faith, and give us eyes that see, for your Glory. Amen" All of us looked up at the hole in the sky, where the pregnant lady was staring. "See!" she shouted. "See the crown of thorns on his head!"
I looked, and sure enough, the hole in the sky had some really sharp edges at one end. If that was the crown of thorns, then Jesus was laying down, not standing up. Or maybe we were laying down, and he was standing up. It didn't matter, I started seeing the crown of thorns, and then his face, brighter than the sun. "We need to go now" pastor Jerry said. "Right Now". And with that, he gave a little jump and a hop and tugged at the hands on both sides of him. Cheerful leader started hopping, then all the rest of us started hopping. It was fun, and we all laughed. The only one that wasn't hopping was Pregnant Lady. She just floated up toward the hole in the sky, holding onto pastor Jerry's hand. Her feet slowly floated up till she was horizontal, not vertical. She floated over me for a moment, and then I could see Jesus in the sky - clearly, with his crown of thorns on his head, and a staff in one hand. He was the hole in the sky, and he was floating, too. We all kept hopping and laughing.
All our hopping was making my feet hurt, but I didn't want to complain. I seemed to be standing over some sharp rocks. I looked at Pregnant Lady, and her face shone brighter than the sun as she floated in the air, tugging at us to follow her up through the hole in the sky. I looked at the hole, and the bright light that shone through it gave me peace. I closed my eyes a little and looked hard with my inside eyes. Jesus was definitely resting, laying down just like Pregnant Lady. He was resting, not hopping! I remembered something about rest, but I couldn't place it.
"Pastor Jerry, didn't Jesus say something about rest?" I asked. Pastor Jerry looked at me for a moment, stared up at the hole in the sky and said, "Come to me, ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
He looked at the ground, then looked at the sky - then finally at me. "That's what Jesus said about rest." he answered.
I stopped hopping. Pregnant Lady never carried a pack. We all had packs on. "Pastor Jerry, I think we should take our packs off, and lay down to rest from all this hopping. If we take off our packs and stop hopping so hard and just rest and look with our inside eyes at the hole in the sky…" I stopped. Pastor Jerry looked concerned.
"If we let go, Pregnant Lady might float away without us" he said. He looked very worried at the prospect. I was warming to the idea of resting for a change. My feet still hurt a little.
"We can do it one at a time. Quiet Thinker can hold Pregnant Lady while the rest of us take our packs off. "Quiet Thinker had not been hopping very much, and he had a light pack with loose straps. "Maybe he could shrug it off while holding Pregnant Lady for us", I added.
Pastor Jerry looked thoughtful and stopped hopping. Everybody else stopped hopping, too. Some were still laughing, but some were huffing and puffing like me. I had hopped really hard. Everyone looked at Pastor Jerry - probably because he was taking in a big, deep breath like he does when he's ready to say something important. The laughing slowed down, stopped, and then it was silent. We were all a little embarrassed that all our hopping hadn't worked.
Pastor Jerry said in a soft voice that reminded me of a mother trying to talk a child into calming down and going to bed. "People, people, people. Hopping and jumping isn't working, and with these packs on, it's just hurting our feet. We all want to float up to the hole in the sky to be with Jesus, but we're stuck on the ground. Let's take off our packs, hold hands and lay down on our backs. Then we can rest and look up at the hole in the sky, enjoy the Light, and think about being with Jesus. Maybe that will work."
Chapter 4 - We Take Off Our Packs
He tugged at the straps of his pack, and I helped him take it off. Then I turned around and he helped me take my pack off. All the rest followed our example with smiles and a little quiet laughter, took their loads off and stacked them neatly on the ground.
We didn't know what would come next. Pastor Jerry walked over to Quiet Thinker and carefully helped him take his pack off while he still held tightly to Pregnant Lady, whose eyes were fastened on the hole in the sky, bobbing in the air from left to right like a kite. Her hand tightly gripped Quiet Thinker's hand, tugging him toward the hole in the sky.
Pastor Jerry finished taking Quiet Thinker's pack off. We all held hands again, and kneeled down, then rolled over on our backs. Time seemed to stop after awhile, as we stared at the wonderful hole in the sky shaped like Jesus. I forgot about weight, distance and time as I stared at the wonderful bright light. A sudden breeze came up, lifting Pregnant Lady higher. Quiet Thinker rose up, floating in the air beside her, then pastor Jerry, then me - and one by one all the others . The breeze died down, and the air was warm, and completely still. A sweet perfume from the flowers surrounding us enveloped us. We all started floating up, ever so slowly. It was so slow. As we drifted, our feet floated up so that we were all laying down in the sky, just like Jesus. Only he was a hole in the sky, and we were drawn to him like he was a magnet.
The thinker said, "I'll bet the waters pretty close right now" He said it with a sound of relief, because we weren't trapped on the mountain anymore, and he could say it without scaring us. "My shoe got a little wet with the last hop" Strong Legs said. He had ended up at the bottom of the chain. I barely remembered somebody saying once that Jesus is always on time when we stopped floating and started rising faster and faster toward Jesus. It was like I had eyes in the back of my head as I got closer to Jesus. I could see all around me with my mind, just as if I had eyes all around my head.
I was looking up, but my mind looked down - and I could see the top of our mountain where we had been hopping a moment before - and just a branch of the tall, brave old tree could be seen sticking out of the waves of the rising water. The hole in the sky got warmer and warmer, brighter and brighter, but it was warm like a mother's love, and bright like a flash of knowledge. We all shot through the hole in the sky, one at a time, still holding hands - each one of us fitting perfectly into the image of Jesus - except for the crown of thorns and the staff.
The last thing I saw below me was waters - waves covering everything, all over the face of the whole earth. The tip of the branch of the tree disappeared under the waves and I stopped looking down through my mind's eye. I was filled with Light and was in the Light, and the Light was in me.
I didn't look back after going through the hole in the sky. None of the others did either. Our journey was ended, and our Life had begun.
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