O'Taheiti Dreamin'

By Dan Feltham

How does an author describe a dream as in this title? He writes a story about a family's vacation to one of the most beautiful places in this world, present day Tahiti. And then he takes it one step further – goes back in time 200 years to what was then called O'Taheiti – an unspoiled island paradise, a visual tropical banquet, where the native Polynesians had thrived semi-peacefully and undiscovered for a thousand years. Explorers, whalers, and opportunists arrive and bring their western cultures and diseases to a pure and innocent race of noble savages.

This book is the sequel to The Edge of Time (published 2013) and continues the Stockton family adventures. Two sets of twins and their friends time travel back to O'Taheiti to the year 1818. One of the twins is on a mission to find the father of her half Tahitian twin five year old sons - sons conceived on a previous time travel trip to 1812, but born in Hawaii in 2012. It might be called a story of intertwined realistic fantasy. The reader will find many new interesting characters, stories within stories, and a history and description of an older Tahitian environment and their loving way of life. A description of a modern Tahiti is also given. Let your imagination soar, perhaps to dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098329891

Book preview

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Chapter 1 - O’Taheiti Dreamin’

Memories and Dreams have no boundaries, no time, no cost or distance limitations, nor should they. D. Feltham, 2019.

One gorgeous Hawaiian afternoon, as I was watching the tireless sanderlings run back and forth along the wet coral sand in front of my property, my thoughts had turned dreamily to sailing south. I reasoned, if a three-ounce migratory bird could fly to Oahu from Alaska in three days, there was no reason I could not sail to Tahiti once again.

The trade winds were particularly strong and blowing me reminiscent pleasures. I could almost smell the frangipani blossoms and vanilla beans from far across the windswept miles. The only interruption to the thin horizon line that separated the inky blue of the Pacific and the pale cloudless afternoon sky were two tiny islands of the Mokulua State Bird Sanctuary plus the frothy white surge of the surf breaking over the island’s windward reefs. Way beyond that protective barrier, way beyond distance, and far from where I was loafing were a few other tiny islands like Palmyra or Kiribati, beckoning a sailor, like Greek Sirens of myth, to stop and anchor in a turquois lagoon before going on to a Pacific paradise, that being the island of Tahiti. I wanted to see far beyond that long virtual line that separated sea and sky.

For anyone wondering why dream of elsewhere if I already lived in Hawaii, for me the simple answer was our Tahiti trip of 200 years ago – in 1812 - it had been just one closer step toward Heaven. A cruising sailor can easily become a self-dependent idealist; I mean I was growing tired of present day power politics, senseless ongoing wars in the Middle East, racial chaos, random killings, and intense competition – in short, things that were happening around the world which I could do nothing about yet affected my daily life. Even here on this gorgeous beach it was hard to ignore the ugliness of the present world. It would be good to be at sea again where boat, crew, weather and the ocean become the universe and are the only things of any importance, and where one lives by knowledge and skill.

My daughter Diane was lying nearby on a woven lauhala mat working on her suntan. I heard her humming Beyond the Reef, a classic Hawaiian melody that fit her current mood – an oldie from the days of radio - broadcast once a week for forty years from the Courtyard of Waikiki’s Moana Hotel. She must have been on my same dream frequency. She ambled over to where I was pretending to be reading. I was comfortable and relaxed on my favorite chaise lounge placed to enjoy the panoramic view. An open newspaper lay in my lap and a glass of ice cube diluted pineapple rum drink was waiting on the ground well within my handy reach. Nearby, a many-limbed multi-air-root banyan tree shared our property line with the neighbors to the east that faithfully provided morning shade when needed. Multiple colors of plumeria blossoms and the bright green and red foliage of ti plants marked our western boundary. Beyond the lawn, sandy beach, and tiny birds, I could watch a few wind surfers taking advantage of the twenty-knot winds. The rustling of nearby palm tree branches provided soft applause for the views we shared as each green frond played tag with its neighbor. What a setting. Diane stood there, purposely casting her shadow on what she thought I was reading until I looked up.

Okay, hon; yes, you are blocking my sun. What’s up? I feigned annoyance, although even fake discontent at our Lanikai home was almost a sin.

Can I sit down here with you, dad? I’ve been thinking.

Thinking eh? That’s refreshing; this life we are leading sometimes forgets about thinking – there is not enough time for it.

Hah. You are almost right there, but that’s it – time - what I want to talk about.

I made space for her on the sun-bleached flower printed cushions. I noted she was more serious than usual and maybe had been thinking. She sat and hesitated, searching to find the right words.

I tried opening the conversation. While you have been waiting to tell me something, I’ve been reading here in the Journal about the advantages of buying gold and silver; they seem to be at reasonable prices, and….

She interrupted. Dad, forget that shiny metal stuff; we already have the gold in our sunsets and the silver in the lining of the rain clouds. She pointed up toward the possibility of an afternoon shower. How about investing in black pearls?

Huh?

Beautiful black natural Tahitian Pearls - huge perfect ones with tints of iridescent blues and greens.

Why this now? You know we still have a couple from our time warp trip; such big ones are no longer available even in Tahiti. I doubt pearls like ours are available anywhere in the whole world today.

And I thought – except perhaps in museums or hanging from some matron’s ear lobes or between the breasts of a favored lady.

Dad, that’s it; let’s go get some more! she blurted out. I want to go back to O’Taheiti! I want to go back those 200 years again and introduce my twin boys to their father. They ask about a father all the time and don’t understand the time gap – or how it happened. Each one asks, ‘Why don’t I have a dad like other kids?’ The fourth dimension is so hard to explain to five year olds. Sometimes I wish I had stayed, but you didn’t let me.

Yeah, I know. I remember that day all too well; your cousin pushing and me pulling you out of that outrigger canoe after you tried to swim back to shore, but you’re serious, aren’t you?

Yes, dad. I think I am. I know you did the right thing by getting me up and over the stern of our yacht. I was devastated as we sailed away from the island. But, I didn’t know I was pregnant and it would have been difficult to stay and give birth to my boys back then and there. Those Tahitian women handled childbirth very well – but twins? And I would have missed you guys so much. Even here, in this beautiful home that I love, I still remember the touch of my prince and all the kindness and revelry we shared together with the other Tahitians. It is too bad the past can’t be like a full-length re-run movie, repeated whenever – only through dreams, but dreams aren’t always good enough. I can’t touch a dream or feel those good times. My days here are fun and busy, but the nights are so lonesome. Dad, I’ll admit I miss the arms of that handsome Tahitian around me. I miss Manutea and sorry he is so long gone.

I can understand that Diane. I felt that same way when we lost your mother, but you haven’t tried to find another here.

I was surprised by Diane’s request and frank admission. I thought she had settled in and accepted Oahu as her home – had tried to forget as she raised her sons – even though their very presence was a reminder to those few who knew the story of where they had been conceived.

I continued, even if you – or we – could go back, it wouldn’t be the same. Your prince, as you call him was a playboy. He took what he wanted when he wanted – sorry dear, but true.

At that comment I noticed anger spread across her face. This was a very sensitive topic and she didn’t want to even entertain the truth.

Dad, I loved him. Damn it; don’t condemn me. And I still do. He deserves to see his sons, even if he would no longer want me.

Maybe yes, maybe no, I replied. I’m sorry and not sure I agree. He loved all women way too much and must have sired other sons in that time frame and yes, he is long dead and long time buried somewhere on this island. I am reluctant to tell you that you did wrong; love is a power so rarely defeated. I have not forgotten.

Too true and I am missing that love. And, my boys should also have the right to be with any half brothers and sisters as well as be loved by his grandparents, just as all Tahitians children are. I want to go back. Can we?

Manutea doesn’t know about his sons so no way he can miss them, I offered.

Dad, that is not fair and you know it! He must wonder. Diane laughed and surprised me. We went at it pretty good. He knew what he was doing and what might happen. And, I guess I wasn’t thinking very well at the time.

I could see I wasn’t going to win this battle and tried to change the subject away from her boys and their native father.

I assume, perhaps that others might want to go too? I was thinking of myself. How about your sister Cindy’s research work at the Bishop Museum; isn’t that important for her here on Oahu?

Thanks. She answered. That’s another excellent reason to go. She could gather more history and information to complete her college thesis, and we both want to see our cousin Jeff again. Diane hesitated before going on.

Dad, I know you didn’t like Manutea, but you never gave him a chance.

I didn’t know he was going to be my unmarried son-in-law.

Well, you might change your mind if we could go back in the interest of science and history. A half wistful smile replaced the anger.

Diane, that man took advantage of you, I won’t use that ugly four letter word, but he was a scoundrel, an uninhibited native. Sorry again, I don’t want my words to hurt you.

"And I’ve told you too many times, our loving was consensual and that is their natural way. Manutea is not a native; he is part English – a direct descendent of Captain Cook, or maybe Fletcher Christian of the Bounty. I’m sure both of them planted their seeds among the native women while they were there. I’m thankful that my boys are U.S. citizens, but they come from the blood of a famous English sailor; they are some fraction English as well as part Tahitian. I think they already know they are different."

That may be true, but Manutea was raised Tahitian and had that darker coloring and handsome features that attracts most of you haole women. You may be in love with only a memory? I need to think about it, but don’t know if we could go through all that turbulence again and arrive at the same exact place and time. You know I don’t have a formula for time travel – nor does anyone – that rogue wave was a one-time freak occurrence thanks to the Mayan calendar and that 2012 – 12 - 12 unique date, time and geo-coordinates. What if we landed on a hostile island at a much different time? What if we landed on Fiji or the Marquesas or fell victims of ceremonies in the Solomon Islands and became the stew-pot guests of cannibals?

I tried joking. Our white meat would be quite a delicacy.

Hey Dad, that’s not funny; we’re all the same inside and you know it!

"Sorry for that, but one last question – what does your sister think about O’Taheiti?

"We’ve talked about it a little. She said that Manutea was just another man and that I could have any man I wanted here on Oahu. I got pissed at her and said something sarcastic like she was spoiling all the good ones. Then we laughed and made up. I think she might go. My sister is turning into a cultural researcher and wants to continue her studies. So much of Tahitian history is based on native myths, exaggerated tales of sex-crazed whaler-men or the vague written words of over-pious missionaries. There is no written history. She wants to see, experience and record actual events and then document the islander’s cultural transition that has taken place between then and now. You’ll have to talk with her, but I think she wants to clarify the concept of the Noble Savage that scholars like Jacques Rousseau or authors like Charles Dickens have so epitomized. She’s also turned into an old tomboy with all her sports, and there is great surfing in Tahiti. She told me once that she would like to surf that Teahupo’o break again without a hundred macho guys either wanting the same perfect wave or more certainly wanting her."

Probably true I thought; I laughed to myself, yeah, that would be Cindy.

"Diane, you know I will do almost anything for you and your sister, but this is a little much and well beyond almost. I promise I’ll think about it. I’ll have to talk with Christine, call my brother, may have to sell Cherish and figure out the finances. I don’t want to make that long sail with our young one, and your two boys are also a little young to go to sea. That’s a major ocean trip. And paying for our whole family’s airfare and hotels is not a trivial thing."

Those are poor excuses and sounds like a ‘yes’ to me.

Don’t get your hopes up; it’s a very ‘remote maybe’.

Well, a remote maybe is a good start, she replied.

Good Heavens, I should not have opened that Pandora’s Box.

"One final thought for now. I once heard a famous athlete utter some wise words: ‘You don’t want something or somebody so bad that it can ruin the rest of your life’. Let’s think about it and have this discussion again. I, for one, am very happy right here with you gals, all the kids and Christine."

Okay dad. That’s good enough for today. I’ll go get you another double rumdum drink. Do you want your Bacardi Dark with pineapple or orange juice?

Yes, a splash of both, but no umbrella and go light on the ice. Ice takes up space and never lasts very long.

Ha. Well, neither does your drink.

I gave Diane a hug, then a push toward the kitchen and started thinking. I didn’t tell her that I had been having similar thoughts for quite a spell. For me, I didn’t have her romantic reason, but O’Taheiti in the year 1812 had been fascinating, a once in a lifetime, so why not again? If not our yacht Cherish, we could charter a local yacht in Papeete, sail north past Brando’s island, Tetiaroa, and look for that fated wave. Even if I could not put us at those exact ocean co-ordinates at the perfect time of day again, it would still be a hell-of-a trip for the whole family. For me either today’s Tahiti or any older version was not just a place but it had become a state of mind, a tropical Eden, and well beyond just another dream.

I couldn’t get Diane’s request out of my head and for the next few days went over all the good and bad possibilities. Logically, it was entirely out of the question – a fool’s quest, time travel – far worse than a combination of Don Quixote, Gulliver or Walter Mitty. But, there were so many actual examples – like Marco Polo, Columbus, Magellan, Darwin, Shackleton, Neil Armstrong, Lindbergh – just a few off the top of my head; all those people made conscious decisions, stepped across their comfort thresholds, and then safely returned home. Hell, even Dorothy and Toto returned from Oz! But, I knew there was another list that didn’t – Amelia Earhart for one, or Captain James Cook on his third trip to Hawaii. I called my brother John in Malibu. He and his wounded Marine son, then back from Afghanistan, had been on our first successful trip.

John, if I can figure it out, how would you like to go see your son?

You’re kidding.

No, I don’t think so. Would you go?

Yes. Should I pack?

Ha ha! No, not yet. How about your wife, Betsy? Do you think she would be up to it?

No, Bob, not a good idea; and not if sweet Hinatea is still there. My wife is not an adventurer. Her life is better off here in California and she can continue to enjoy her social clubs, Malibu restaurants, art shows, and trips back east. I assume you’ll figure a way to get back. The line went quiet for a minute; then John continued with, even if I would want to come back. You know I want to see my son Jeff and his new family; I’m sure I have grandchildren there by now.

Yeah John, that’s a perfect reason, but, this is still in the formative stages now. I’ll let you know.

I knew that John and his wife’s relationship had been wearing thin; I thought he would stay back in O’Taheiti this time without hesitation.

My next call was to Captain Nathaniel Stone on Raiatea, where he and his wife had re-settled and found jobs after their successful trip forward in time with us. I remembered our concern on Cherish about the Captain and Tehani; would they turn to old bones and dust before our very eyes the instant we made the 200-year time warp to 2013? They survived, as did we, with no ill after affects. They were both excellent sailing mates and helped us sail Cherish back to Papeete and Raiatea where they went ashore and settled down. Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to accept the idea of reversing time again.

Aye skipper. You know damn well we’d love to return any time. Those past islands are Tehani’s true home; she often spins a yarn or two about the olden days to our local Raiatea lads. They don’t believe her o’course, but that’s okay. She hankers for the world she was born to. Sign her up; I don’t even have ta throw her a line.

How about you Captain?

"I’m thinkin’ so, Papeete became my home after Pilgrim went aground. I dragged me own tired anchor ashore there once; I can do so again. I’d like to find out what became of that scurvy crew of mine – most were nothing but sex-crazed reprobates? They didn’t know much other than whalin’, drinkin’, cussin’ and chasin’ vahines – all good things mind ya back in those days – and a few were also fine shipmates. I take it we’ll not be sailin’ this time?"

Right, you’ll have to swallow your fear of flying and get on over to Papeete.

He agreed that he and Tehani would join us, if we went.

Okay, that’s three more good mates, I thought. Now it’s time to get serious and talk to my wife Christine.

Chapter 2 - Flashback

We didn’t set out to be time travelers. The first trip was an accident.

Late in the year 2012, many Mayan theorists of the Yucatan/Guatemala region predicted cataclysmic doom. News sources carried the story worldwide predicting fatal consequences. On December 21, 2012 at twelve-noon all kinds of disasters were supposed to occur, such as tsunamis, earthquakes, cosmic explosions, typhoons, floods and general chaos. The Mayan ‘long count’ calendar* had ended and another 5125-year calendar had begun. The unique date also coincided with the winter solstice and the sun’s alignment with the Milky Way. Newspaper and TV with their over-amplification generated enough hype to cause widespread public concern and panic. In actuality, certain Mayan scholars knew the prediction to be false, and instead was a time for celebration and a new calendar. However, it somehow caused the sailing yacht Cherish and all aboard to go through a mysterious time warp. The Stockton family had an experience of a lifetime, one they could not forget.

The Mesoamerican Long Count calendar – Courtesy of Wikipedia

Bob Stockton and his wife Megan had lived in Malibu, California, he as a successful Los Angeles attorney and she a part time docent at the nearby J. Paul Getty Museum. They had raised two beautiful twin daughters, Diane and Cindy. The four were an ‘every chance they got’ sailing family and spent many a weekend cruising or racing in Southern California waters. Bob had often said, ‘I wonder what other people do on weekends if they are not sailing?’ After 25 years of a successful marriage, Megan, had suddenly died of a heart attack in early 2012 at their hilltop home. In the wake of his sorrow Bob decided to fulfill a promised cruise that he and Megan had long planned. Bob and his 19-year old daughters, the sometimes promiscuous Diane and the student athlete Cindy, set sail to Polynesia in honor of Megan’s memory. Also on board the 54-foot yacht Cherish were Bob’s older brother Doctor John Stockton and his Marine nephew, Jeff Stockton, who had recently returned from Afghanistan with CSPD and the loss of an arm. The two men were needed to assist with onboard muscle and the long distance sailing duties.

On that fateful Mayan date, the Stockton family was sailing along in calm seas approaching Tahiti on their center cockpit sloop. Without knowing, the yacht’s path crossed a set of intersecting geographic ocean coordinates, 150 12 21 West and 12 21 12 South, on December 12 at 12:21 Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). It turned out to be much more than a coincidence of place and time. The simultaneous convergence of those unique numbers and the exact ending date of the Mayan calendar caused a rogue midocean wave that swept the yacht and her crew of five through a tumultuous instantaneous time gap. Within seconds they were transported to the year 1812 and the tropical ocean waters near the island that was then referred to as O’Taheiti. French, British and American whalers, explorers, missionaries, and scientific expeditions, such as Wallis, Bougainville, Cook, and Bligh and others had left their cultural differences with the Polynesians, but no one had visited from the twenty first century like the Stockton family.

Once ashore near today’s capital city of Papeete, the family adapted to the native styles, made friends and lovers, and shared a peaceful portion of Tahitian history. After too many comments from daughter Diane, like, ‘I never want to leave here’, and ‘I’m in love’, it was time to go. Captain Bob Stockton took the helm of his yacht and sailed his family back to present time civilization. Jeff, the one-arm Marine, found new peace and elected to remain in O’Taheiti; his handicap was not an object of pity by the happy Tahitians. The rest of the crew, plus two new friends, returned to the actual current year of 2013 Tahiti on yacht Cherish by locating and crossing over the previous ocean geographic coordinates in a reverse direction.

Back in present 21st century time again, they continued with their original South Pacific vacation by cruising throughout the Tahitian Islands. One of the twins, Diane, announced she was pregnant with what would be a new set of boy twins conceived two hundred years prior in concert with a probable Tahitian descendent of Captain Cook. Skipper Bob meets and falls in love in modern Papeete with the beautiful Christine who years earlier had vacationed in Tahiti as a young lady and remained. Her Tahitian husband was mysteriously murdered leaving her with a son and available.

After enjoying a series of adventures and a Bora Bora hot romance between Bob and Christine, the two lovers return to a home in Hawaii and are married. The whole family settles into a large five-bedroom oceanfront property at Lanikai Beach on the windward side of the island of Oahu. However, memories and dreams of ancient O’Taheiti remained and as sometimes said, ‘You can never go back’, a return to O’Taheiti becomes a definite time travel challenge.

*The ancient Maya had a fascination with cycles of time. They used several dating systems running concurrently. The Maya developed the Long Count calendar to chronologically date mythical and historical events; it ran for 5,125 tropical years and ended on December 21, 2012. Some Mayans believed that the universe would be destroyed and then recreated at the start of each universal cycle.

Chapter 3 – Dreams of a Family

‘Have you ever noticed that life is all memory, except for the one present moment – referred to as ‘now’ - that goes by so quickly you hardly catch it leaving.’ Tennessee Williams

After our amazing adventure to 1812, the next several years in Hawaii were the perfect definition of the ‘good life’. The years were full of family fun, some work but not too much, more sailing and more children - three new young ones always getting loving care. We were all blessed by good health that we attributed to living in Hawaii and an active lifestyle, plus wonderful new Hawaiian friends, the surrounding ocean, and the near perfect semi-tropical weather that ‘The Islands’ are so well noted for. After the months in Tahiti and a win-win marriage compromise for location with Christine, I conceded that returning to Southern California would be too cold. My California friends and law associates had commented before we moved about living on an island. Some asked, ‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get that disease often referred to as ‘rock fever?’ I replied with a knowing smile and a mini-countering lecture to those who would listen.

No, the shores of an actual island define your living space much better than a collection of streets, buildings and endless freeways such as in Los Angeles, and, like it or not, you mainlanders all live on self defined islands bounded by how far you drive to work, school locations, plus each day’s social habits - at most perhaps encompassing a radius of ten to twenty miles, no larger than a medium sized island. To leave any island, actual or bounded by townships, one normally takes an airplane, so what the heck is the difference?

I would get answers like Not me, Bob, or Oh yeah, or We think you’re kinda nuts to leave Malibu, and then always the envious admission, Maybe we’ll come for a visit, those islands are wonderful; we would love to live in Hawaii.

Diane’s twin half-Tahitian boys, Teiva and Kimo, were growing like weeds with promise to be good sized and handsome. At five years old, both boys were almost 50 pounds. I hoped they had inherited Diane’s brains and not some of the personality traits of their Tahitian father. They learned to swim not long after they learned to walk – the transition between land and ocean water seemed almost