Ocean Singer of the Night - Voyages of the Destiny's Dreams

"Labyrinths of the wild,

Nature entwined,

Ocean's stories,

Beyond time and mind."

The voice of Ocean Singer wafted over the ocean.

The canvas sails of the boat gleamed in the lantern light, beneath the stars and moon.

A new tale bubbled up from Ocean Singer's mind.

Something different had been carved into him by his recent experiences. His stories took on new shapes.

Now, each night he wandered the mystical sailing ship decks. In the darkness, more stories sparkled in the depths and essence of his being.

His lost storytelling skill was coming back. Something mythic, on the wooden sailing ship they called Destiny’s Dreams, flowed into him.

He became known as Ocean Singer of the Night. His inspiration came to him after the sun went down.

The stories rose with the moon and stars. But they disappeared in the bright light of daytime.

Ocean Singer could still remember the day the trauma took away both his voice and his inspirations.

The legend of Ocean Singer of the Night was recorded in the journals of Anya, Storyteller of the Blue Lantern, and Keeper of Ancient Wisdom, on the mythical ship called Destiny's Dreams.

Now the faded journal words about the Ocean Singer, written over a hundred years earlier, were still spotted from sea water stains.

Children found the old journals in the sailor's sea chest in the attic of the keeper's house for the Mystical Lighthouse. Now they sat near the window looking out at the sea.

Twelve year old Emily read to them from the journals. An antique brass lantern, with etched blue glass, caught the pale light from the sea, and cast indigo shadows in the attic.

Anya, author of the journals, seemed to come alive again through the words she left on the faded pages.

Emily continued reading. Her twelve year old voice filled the attic. Outside, far below the bluff, the children heard ocean waves pounding and splashing.

Emily's voice rose and fell.

Ocean Singer threw himself into his musical stories. But sometimes he still remembered past.

Now the trauma of the explosion on the steam ship had floated away like gulls flying into the horizon on the sky. Gone. Gone. Gone. Forever.

His lost self rippled and bubbled back to him, like waves and tidepools, an ocean of self flowing again with stories. The rigid, emptiness inside was filled again with stories and wonder.

They surged and he sang them with the rhythms of the waves and wind, under the midnight velvet skies, under the waning and waxing moons, under the twinkles of light shining through the mysteries above.

He no longer thought about the sound like thunder of the explosion, the flames shooting up from the engine room, and the heat of the fire only a few yards away, that burned a memory into his deepest mind.

When it happened the trauma was so strong and throbbing inside him that Ocean Singer could not form the feelings, thoughts, and words for stories anymore.

He lost his voice. The other people on the steam ship gave him side glances, rolled their eyes, and whispered.

But he was aware of what they did, and this stung him so that he felt isolated, misunderstood, and invisible. Then he withdrew into himself.

When the ship limped into the docks on shore, Ocean Singer, with his tight chest and throat, carried a bundle of belongings across the wooden planks to the wharf and looked around, wondering what to do.

Ocean Singer was lost. Lost in an unfamiliar world. Lost in an unfamiliar self. Lost in unfamiliar feelings and thoughts.

He wandered around the wharf, looking at the boats and people.

Ocean Singer was feeling disconnected. Disconnected from the people. Disconnected from the boats. Disconnected from his own self. Where was he? Where had the self he used to know gone?

He found a nook by the wharf and rested there, curling up at night to sleep.

Slender ships with three or four masts of white canvas sails glided through the morning mists and anchored off the shore.

Ocean Singer looked at the sea. What was wrong with him?

Then a strange sight emerged from the salty morning mists. A boat made of reeds bundled together, with the reeds shaped like the head of a cougar at the bow and the head of a bear at the stern, sitting high in the water, was paddled on each side by sailors.

Even more startling, a man with a monkey on one shoulder and a parrot on the other shoulder dipped and stroked with his paddle.

A tiny woman sat in the middle of the boat with a journal of paper on her lap, writing in the gently rocking vessel.

Another man with a gigantic red beard and a short, stocky, powerful build, grunted and pulled hard on his paddle.

Another woman with a pad of paper and writing instrument seemed to be sketching, making a map, or drawing. Next to her a young girl played a wooden flute with sounds like exotic birds.

A young, slender boy with dark hair and eyes showed wiry strength while he paddled and next to him sat a hairless dog with dark, shining eyes and pointed ears pricked up.

Ocean Singer stared.

The group in the reed boat looked happy. They appeared to smile, nod, and murmur to each other.

The boat pulled up to the wharf, tied up, and the passengers climbed out.

Singer drifted over to the boat and looked at it.

The man with the monkey and the parrot had a long black beard in many braids tied with colorful strips of fabric.

“Hahaha.” A laugh came from the group. “Hahahah.” The parrot’s head bobbed and the laughter erupted.

“Foresta. We hear you.” The braid beard man spoke kindly to the bird on his shoulder.

“”Hahaha.” The bird continued.

Then, “woooof. Woooof. Yiiiiip. Yiiiip.” The hairless dog added his voice.

“Squeeeeek. EEEEiiiiiii.” The monkey’s high pitched voice was like a bird sound.

"Rio, we hear you," said the man with the braided beard to the monkey.

“OoooooooOOOOO.” The flute player blew sounds like doves cooing.

Something stirred inside the Ocean Singer.

A sense of wonder began to grow. His eyes widened. His feet kept moving him closer to the group.

“Hello there young man, I’m Captain Alfonse from Peru, and this is Captain Steelwave although we call him “Squidbeard.” Ocean Singer saw the curling tentacles of the red beard reached out like an ocean creature.

Singer tried to speak but his voice stayed in his thoughts and no sound came out.

“Its alright. We understand.” Anya, the tiny woman with her journal and lantern of blue glass, raised her eyebrows. She softened her eyes, tilted her head, and curved her lips with a slight uplift.

Her voice was like ocean breezes and water rippling with a smooth melody.

Ocean Singer stared. His mouth opened. But he could not get sound to come out.

“I see you. I hear you even if you cannot speak. Come over and walk with us. We’re a strange bunch and we are accustomed to everyone being a little different.”

Ancient wisdom and inherited instincts rose in Anya, the Storyteller of the Blue Lantern on the ship Destiny’s Dreams. She knew how to listen when there were no words.

“There are other ways to talk. We don’t need words. I sense things.” She spoke to reassure the young man.

“We can communicate without speaking. Your eyes, face, hands. They all communicate. Maybe better than words.”

Ocean Singer sighed loudly and drew in a breath. He felt a connection pulling him out of the lost feelings.

Anya smiled. “Yes. I know. But we’re here. And you are alright. Walk with us.”

He heard the flute music from the group's musician still cooing like doves.

A faint feeling of connection began to sprout from a tiny seed inside of him. He had been alone inside of himself for so long. But the seeds were still there, waiting to be watered.

A surge of thoughts and feelings grew in Ocean Singer all day while he walked with the group from the reed boat.

“We have lots of room. You can come out to the ship with us.” Captain Alfonse pointed to the white sails like clouds drifting in the bay.

Ocean Singer’s heart thumped. Something about it seemed familiar.

“I’ve seen this before,” he thought. “In a waking dream or in one of my stories.”

He climbed into the Peruvian reed boat with the head of the cougar at the bow, and the head of the bear at the stern. The tiny woman with her journal and blue lantern sat next to him.

Anya’s eyes flicked over for a quick glance. She saw a light beginning to shine in the young man’s eyes.

The parrot, Foresta, and the monkey, Rio, still climbed on Captain Alfonse’s shoulders. The hairless dog, Felix, sat next to his human companion, Guido.

On the ship the flute player blew soft tones and the sun sank below the horizon.

Still the Ocean Singer sat on a bench at the railing. Captain Squidbeard appeared with a plate of food and a mug of spicy tea.

The writhing coils of beard reached to his waist and shined like a red sunset.

Squidbeard was no stranger to walking on trauma's path. It was long ago when he made a mistake and caused his previous ship to be wrecked on the rocks. After that he suffered blame, ridicule, and shame although everyone escaped safely.

At first Squidbeard hid from the world. Then he returned with anger at it.

But unseen forces led him into a series of circumstances. One day he was surprised to see himself emerging as a new, kinder, wiser, and more compassionate person.

Now Squidbeard sensed the trauma behind Ocean Singer's eyes, and Squidbeard's inner compass began to guide him.

Ocean Singer's eyes snapped wider open when Squidbeard approached. He gasped and he turned his head. Something was crawling inside the masses of curly red tentacles in the beard.

He leaned over to look.

A long, green, thin body appeared with bulging eyes rolling and it looked up at the Ocean Singer.

Squidbeard chuckled.

“That’s my pet Gecko, young man. He leaped into my beard from the mangroves down south by the equator when he was a baby. He’s been with me ever since.” Squidbeard had a rumbling voice.

“Whhhhaaat?” A stumbling word came out of Ocean Singer.

“Hey there. You can talk.” Squidbeard laughed and Ocean Singer felt a smile beginning on his own face that had been frozen for so long.

“Gecko. Gecko.” Ocean Singer tried out the word.

Squidbeard offered his finger to the creature. It leaped onto his hand. He held it out to Ocean Singer.

“OOoooh.” Another sound burst from Ocean Singer.

The green slipped onto Ocean Singer’s hand. It paused and rolling the bulging eyes up at Ocean Singer’s face.

“He’s friendly, young man. Just don’t move too suddenly. He might jump into your hair.” Squidbeard’s chest and shoulders shook and he laughed with a rough sound and eyes narrowed like crescent moons.

“Hello little one.” Ocean Singer lifted his other hand to stroke the green creature that was staring at his face.

“I’ll tell you the story of how I got him.” Squidbeard’s voice rose and fell like tides, his half moon eyes glistening with humor. Ocean Singer was swept away into the tale.

Without realizing it, Ocean Singer began to mirror Captain Squidbeard's facial expressions of humor and his body gestures.

Then Ocean Singer spoke and his old sing song voice, uplifting and whimsical, flowed as naturally as ocean swells.

Squidbeard smiled and listened. Ocean Singer poured out his story. His throat loosened and his chest relaxed. His breathing came back as effortless and natural as day and night. The rhythms of his old self returned.

Squidbeard's face showed no surprise. Despite his comical appearance, he was experienced with life and wise in ways other people did not expect.

“Well, good night to you. There’s an empty cabin you can use inside, down he steps to the left. We’re glad you joined us.” Squidbeard nodded and lumbered away with his Gecko.

What kind of place was this? Was everyone on board this ship strange too? But it was a good kind of strange. Ocean Singer felt chuckles and smiles rising inside after listening to Squidbeard’s story.

Wrapped in the glow of the ship lanterns and the sounds of the quiet sea rippling against the wooden hull of the vessel, Ocean Singer began to hum and then to sing.

His voice and his stories came back in the peaceful night. Daylight and bright sun were still overwhelming, reminding him of the explosion.

But over time that faded too.

Like the sailing ship, he was on a new voyage in life, and the old voyages became distant memories.

The days came when he sang again with wonder and joy. He became a legendary part of the folklore of the seas.

Over the water Ocean Singer's stories set to song floated.

"Stars and sand, seas and tides,

Moonglow, sunset, dawn of dreams,

Mystic Beach of light and mist

Magic in the sunshine beams."

Ocean Singer changed his appearance too. He grew a long, curly beard that reached out like tentacles and reminded everyone of Captain Squidbeard's own red mass of facial hair.

"Why do you think he grew such a massive beard? He is almost hidden behind it." The crew and passengers discussed him.

"Yes, but on him it looks good. I like it."

"Did you notice sometimes Squidbeard let's Ocean Singer carry around his pet gecko?"

"Oh. Maybe that is why Ocean Singer grew a beard like Squidbeard's own. Because the Gecko likes to ride in it and play."

Ocean Singer sat in the moonlight sometimes, remembering that first night when Squidbeard listened to him and shared his own story, telling it with humor.

No one else realized how powerfully that one time with Squidbeard had reached him and drawn him out of the trauma.

Now he shared his new wisdom and humor with others.

They often noticed Squidbeard's green Gecko slipping through the strands of Ocean Singer's new beard.

There was a new whimsical and wonderous style to Ocean Singer's stories and music now.

Over a hundred years later, the children gathered around Emily in the Mystic Lighthouse Keeper's House sat staring at the stained journal.

They felt as if Anya the journal author, the Ocean Singer, and Captain Squidbeard hovered in the shadows around them.

Emily grabbed a piece of cloth and held it to her face like a beard.

"Watch out, my Gecko will jump out at you," she called to the other children.

The spell of the story was broken. They all grabbed loose objects and made huge pretend beards.