We Share a Dream

By Allan Sankirtan

What if you met your perfect partner in a dream, and when you agreed to meet in reality, found yourselves immersed in the dramas of a bygone era? William and Rachel, two young people, met in a dream in another time and place. They come from very different social backgrounds with different beliefs and expectations, and together they must confront their challenges and lessons as they try to survive a disastrous flood in the early colony of New South Wales in 1806.

Before they can create the future they wish to share, they must endure the ordeal that has thrust them together in a remote river valley. To survive, they have to learn to trust and rely on each other and come to terms with the differences in their beliefs and backgrounds. They also have to embrace their dreams consciously.

Can they find a common sense of purpose from within their dreams to create a plan for the future and put it into effect? And, can they share that vision with others to help forge the brave new reality that beckons us all from The Dreaming?

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: May 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452527277

Allan Sankirtan

ALLAN SANKIRTAN has been a student of ancient wisdom, symbolism, dream interpretation, mythology, sacred mathematics, and eastern philosophy for more than forty years. This is his fourth book. Visit him online at www.newagedreaming.com or www.allansankirtan.com.

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Copyright © 2015 Allan Sankirtan.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2726-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2727-7 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 04/20/2015

Contents

Preface

I Dreamed in a Dream

Prelude

Fast-Rising Water

Swept Away

Déjà Vu

A Flooded View

A Leaky Boat

Snatched From the Jaws of Death

We Met Within a Dream

A Crystal Dream

Not Just a Dream

Kindling Flame

Clothes Fit For a Princess

Matters of Convenience

Matters of Life and Death

A Little Family History

Somewhere to Settle Down

A Growing Sense of Danger

A Rather Clumsy Dance

Spiral Free Fall

The Need for a Plan

Seen Through the Spyglass

In One Possibility

It Is All In the Water

Back From the Future

Preparing for the Worst

A Hasty Departure

A Bush Trail

A Home Away From Home

More of Rachel’s Story

Something in Common

More Pieces of the Puzzle

A Sailor’s Life

North by North-West

Is It Really Different?

What Else Do You Remember?

A Romantic at Heart

A Recurring Dream

A New Way of Thinking

Shadows of Regret

Return to Eden

Unashamed To Ask

Snakes Alive

It Won’t Take Long

A Glimpse of Alternate Possibilities

A Drunken Sailor

A Forgotten Warning

Sort of Timeless

A New Perspective

Transient Qualities

A Holographic View

Out In the Open

The Children of the Future

An Invitation to Treat

A Need to Sort Things Out

Reflections

Delegated Responsibilities

Twilight Transition

In Another Dream

In a Dream Within a Dream

The Perfect Herbal Remedy

On Any Other Day

A Welcome Break

Fever Pitch

Future Possibilities

A Vision Splendid

Lizard Dreaming

A Good Time to Start

Equal Portions

We Are All In the Same Boat

A Moment of Shared Tenderness

A Downhill Walk

The Devil’s Horns

Another Way Out

Too Close For Comfort

Irresistible

Twilight Meditation

Clear, Sparkling Water

Bold New Experiments

The Power to Change Things

The Stolen Light of the Moon

Seven Sisters

Sticky Business

The Search Begins

Tonight’s Dinner

Tea for Two

Down From the Trees

Back to the Water

Bush Tucker

A Sticky Situation

Running Repairs

A Journey Amongst Stars

The Crystal City Revisited

A Matter of Trust

Maritime Misadventures

Forgotten Memories

Enquiries

In a Dream Within a Dream

The Null Alternative

A Summer Holiday

More Plans for the Future

Future Options

Unlimited Access

A Stormy Night Revisited

Other Places and Other Times

Back to Reality

Morning Greeting

An Alternative Beginning

Where Should We Begin

Dream Interpretation Template

Life Pattern Interpretation Template

About the Author

Other Works by the Author

Further Reading

Acknowledgements

What Other Readers Have Said

Dedication

For

Aidan and Effie

and for

William and Rachel;

For their children, and the

children of their children,

wherever they choose

to explore creativity

within The

Dreaming of

Consciousness.

Please accept this precious gift to enrich

your experience of life within this reality.

May each of you use

these ideas to understand and

embrace the true nature of your

multi-dimensional being.

And may your new awareness

of the sacred expression of

All That There Is

allow you to consciously

co-create

the brave new world

of your dreams for

All and One

to explore and

enjoy.

Preface

This is the third book of the series revealed to me in a number of dreaming reveries. When I began to write down the various interwoven elements of the story, it flowed easily from the pen as if the characters involved had taken on their own lives and identities. These were their stories about their so-called realities.

These books weave together around common themes. The most important of these is that the eternal Dreaming Soul of Consciousness is multidimensional and exists beyond the limitations of time and space. Recent developments in regression hypnosis and various experiences featuring common dream scenarios, reinforce the idea that life and death are part of an endless cyclic dance. Our lives are a dynamic, sacred and creative partnership with the soul. Lives expressed in the living symbols of our flesh and blood, shared lovingly with friends and family, all immersed in the so-called physical events and symbols we love.

Further, it is becoming more and more evident that this creativity of consciousness is expressed and made manifest, with awareness and free choice within the world of flesh and blood. The consequence of this interaction is that every so-called physical experience of life seeds infinite new possibilities for the creative expression of the Dreaming Soul of All That There Is.

This novel focuses on the further adventures of Aidan and Effie along with their counterparts, William and Rachel. If you have not yet read the first and second books of the series, I urge you to do so as they will definitely increase your enjoyment of this story. However, it is not necessary to read the books in order because although they were written concurrently, the stories are quite readable and make sense when read alone.

In the first book of the series, our young adventurers meet in a sacred garden within a shared dream. Being lost, they seek directions and assistance from an old man, named Hans. But all is not what it seems. They are then introduced to his long-term partner Una, and in a fast moving sequence of dream meetings and encounters, they are taken on a magical journey of discovery. Along the way, they meet aspects of themselves exploring current and alternate realities. When they are finally ready to leave the sacred garden at the end of their shared dream adventures, Aidan and Effie promise to meet again. They plan to continue helping one another explore the themes and concepts they are exploring together.

In the second novel, Aidan and Effie meet again. But, which reality are they really experiencing as they continue exploring possibilities for their future together? Are they still locked in a world of spiralling dreams and alternate realities? Which set of possibilities will they choose to focus on and manifest with conscious intent? And how will they share their new-found awareness with each other and with their travelling companions, in the so-called world of flesh and blood?

Now, Aidan and Effie, through the experiences of their counterparts, William and Rachel, are drawn together by the chaos of a river in flood. They come from far different backgrounds and their beliefs are so different that it threatens their tenuous relationship. To survive, they must learn to trust and rely on one another. They must also come to terms with their different backgrounds and beliefs. Can they learn to trust the guidance of their dreams to forge a new life for themselves and learn to thrive in the emerging Colony?

The symbols in this story weave through everything they experience together. Gradually, Aidan and Effie, as well as William and Rachel, come to realise that the same symbols and themes weave through other realities and other times.

Both the story and the characters in this delightful series are fictional, even though the story line itself draws heavily from personal experiences and dream revelations over many years.

This story is your story and mine. The concepts involved lie at the core of the reason we choose to experience life together, consciously expressing our creativity in the world. In so doing, the story taps into powerful archetypal themes buried deep within our consciousness.

When you read this or any of the books of this series, you may find that your recollection of vivid dreams increases significantly. If this happens, I urge you to begin a dream journal and write down your own dreams. When written out and explored consciously in the manner illustrated, you will discover that the symbols are truly multi-dimensional, and understand how they relate to your life and the lives of those close to you.

This book is written using language aimed to make it enjoyable to young people as well as old and from feedback already received, will appeal to people of all ages. If your children are old enough to discuss their dreams, they are certainly old enough to understand and enjoy this series of books.

Finally, I urge you to remember that words have their own power. They are shorthand symbols representing ideas and concepts with multiple layers of meaning. The ability to think in symbolic terms and to express ourselves with shorthand symbols such as pictographs and words is highly relevant to our evolution as a race. The words of this book have their own power. When the story is read aloud and shared with others, that power is magnified.

The concepts in this book have the potential to unleash subtle changes in the collective beliefs, values and behaviours of our race. Changes that will allow us all to step beyond our collective beliefs and values—beliefs that keep us shackled to the past. Changes that will help each of us come more in touch with our sacred inner blueprint. Shifts in our thinking that remind us of both our individual, and our collective dreams. A blueprint beckoning the race onwards toward a golden new future, to help usher in the brave new world of our dreams.

Wherever you are, and however you choose to explore your creativity, I trust that you will enjoy this and the companion books of the series. My best wishes to each of you.

Allan Sankirtan (March 2015)

I Dreamed in a Dream

I dreamed in a dream

of a world that was young,

of a world asleep in the midnight sun,

then consciousness beckoned

and stirred us from sleep,

setting new paths and appointments to keep,

reminding us gently of what lies ahead,

if we shake off the shackles

of lives of past dread,

to walk with awareness,

of All and of One.

I dreamed in a dream

of a world ever young,

where with laughter together,

a new dream is spun,

and with new found awareness

releasing our pain,

easing our grip on life’s trophies of gain,

we’re now ploughing together,

with nurturing care,

Re-sowing life’s fields

with the dreams that we dare.

Excerpt from When the World Was Young Published in

The Dreams of Our Dreaming, by Allan Sankirtan

Prelude

Hans sat on the crystal balcony overlooking the Zen Pool. He was holding a roll of foil in his hand, absent-mindedly twirling it and turning it end over end. As he looked out over the garden, Una appeared behind him. Leaning over his left shoulder, she placed two steaming mugs of broth on the table. Tenderly, she began stroking his hair and whispering to him.

‘Hans, I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning. You seem so far away lately. What’s the matter, dear? Have you forgotten our appointments? It’s a very important day you know.’

‘What appointments? I’m sorry, Una? This document arrived, and I’ve been wondering what I should do about it.’ As he finished speaking, he passed the ornately embossed scroll of gold foil to her, unrolling it slightly so she could read the top few lines.

‘What is it? Why don’t you tell me all about it? We can fix anything if we work together on finding an answer. I’ve brought you a steaming cup of broth. Come on, Hans. Let me sit with you for a while. What are you so concerned about?’

‘Not now. I’m not quite ready to talk about it. I’ll have to discuss it with Aidan first, but I’m not sure he’s ready to deal with it either.’

‘What is it, dear? It looks very official. Who is it from?’

‘The Administrator of the Great Council,’ he mumbled. ‘Read it for yourself. I’m going to meditate on it for a while.’

‘You can’t leave now,’ Una replied. ‘We have to deal with other things. Today is a very special day for William and Rachel, remember?’

‘No! Remind me. I looked at the calendar earlier and I don’t remember seeing anything about William and Rachel. Are you sure you have the right calendar and the correct timeline?’

‘Today is the day of the flood, Hans. You should know. You helped them make the appointment. Look at the wall panel showing the possibilities. There’s Rachel sleeping in her hut beside the Hawkesbury River. I think she’s about to be rudely awakened by floodwater any minute now. And there’s William, camped a few miles downstream. I think he is just about to meet the love of his life. Ooh! I just love it when their plans come together like this. William and Rachel together at last beside the river. They are sure to fall in love when they see the moon reflecting from the surface of the river in one another’s eyes. I can see it now. It is such a romantic setting.’

‘I can’t understand why they chose to meet in a flooded river valley,’ Hans replied. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me. However, it was their choice, so they’ll have to sort it out themselves. I don’t have time to deal with another river flood just now. I have to prepare a submission to the Great Council in answer to the contents of the scroll and I’ll need Aidan’s help. Do you know where he is?’

‘The last I heard, Effie said he was off exploring some more remote islands off the coast of Fiji and Vanuatu. I think he has been a little too preoccupied with finding Captain William’s missing journals.

‘And, there’s one more thing, Hans. Effie said that the Space Cadet showed up unexpectedly in The Library yesterday. She said he appeared briefly in his dream body, although it seems he wasn’t fully focused. He was looking for information to help him solve his co-ordinate problem. I didn’t see him because I was in the Herbarium, but Effie said he was quite insistent. He shouldn’t be here, should he? I thought time travel was against all the rules.’

‘Was he now? We’ll see about that. This sort of thing just has to stop. You are right Una. It is strictly against the rules. That’s what this is about,’ he fumed, shaking the scroll. ‘Too many people have been breaking the rules and the Great Council is demanding to know what I plan to do about it. If you do see the pesky Space Cadet, remind him in no uncertain terms of the rules. Tell Effie to send Aidan to me as soon as he comes back. Has he been there only the once?’

‘Which one do you mean, Aidan or the Space Cadet?’

‘The pesky Space Cadet, I mean! Don’t defend him, Una. I’m not sure I can trust either of you around that smooth talking young pilot.’

‘Only the once as far as I know. Anyway, I’m not defending him. I think you need to speak to Effie about that, not me. She didn’t mention any other visits. Do you suppose that her interest in him and her desire to meet him again has attracted him here?’

‘Possibly,’ Hans replied. ‘I know he has been wondering how he can fix his guidance system, but he may still be searching for his scanner.’

‘Be careful, he may want to arrest you and take you back for questioning by the Council of the Fifth Galactic Federation. I don’t understand Hans. Why do we have to have so many Councils? It’s all far too complicated. There are too many rules. We need to simplify all this. I thought Aidan promised to help you.’

‘He did Una. And lately, he hasn’t been much help at all. That’s partly what this is all about,’ Hans growled, shaking the scroll again. ‘The Great Council wants answers and so do I. Ever since the Space Cadet showed up, opening wormholes in the fabric of space-time, some very strange bleed-throughs and mix-ups have been occurring. There is no stability to things anymore.’

‘What do you mean, Hans?’

‘Read the Council agenda. How am I going to answer these questions? There’s something in there for you and Effie to answer as well. When is this flood scheduled?’

‘It is happening now, Hans. Are you going to help them?’

‘I’m not sure if I should. They should sort it out themselves. It’s against the rules to interfere. I’m going to the basement. If Aidan comes back, tell him I’ll be in my workroom.’

‘Yes dear. I’ll see you a little later.’

As Hans left, Una picked up the scroll and began to read.

Fast-Rising Water

Rachel woke with a start. Something was wrong, hopelessly wrong. She could hear a dull rumbling, almost a roar. She thought she could hear voices in the distance. Frantic voices screaming for help—voices that echoed in her mind, urging her to do something now. Was it her imagination? Was it just a dream? She shook herself, rolled out of bed and slipped her day dress on over her undergarments, fastening her belt around her waist.

Rachel had barely taken two steps toward the door when she realised she was in dire trouble. She was walking barefoot in the water—smelly brown water. Frantically, she shook Thomas, her housemate, awake.

‘Get up, Thomas. There is water in the hut. Get Harold and get ready to leave. I’m just going outside to see what is happening.’

Thomas drowsily opened his eyes. ‘What’s up, Rachel? It’s still early. The sun is not even up. What do you mean there is water in the hut? You must be dreaming. The river can’t have come up that much in just one night. Come on… Come back to bed. I’m sure you must be dreaming.’

‘Get up now, Thomas,’ Rachel insisted, dragging him out of the bed. ‘See for yourself! Then tell me I’m still dreaming.’

Rachel turned to open the door of the slab hut. She greeted a drab grey-brown dawn, the muddy water blending murkily into the pre-dawn grey. The sky was a dense carpet of dark grey-black cloud. The air seemed to exude liquid, and every surface she touched was wet.

Rachel cursed the rain. This season was by far the wettest she had ever experienced in her short, but event-filled life. She had never seen a flood of this size, and it took some time to realise what she was witnessing.

As Rachel tried to comprehend the scene of panic and desperation before her, a cold chill swept up her spine as she remembered something from her dream. Except this wasn’t a dream. She was a participant. She was ankle deep in it.

Oh no, she thought. The water is still coming up. We have to get out of here. We have to get somewhere to safety—somewhere high—somewhere above the flood.

Rachel screamed. ‘Get up now, Thomas. Get Harold. We have to get out of here and get to higher ground. Now…!’

Thomas pulled on his trousers and shirt, and at Rachel’s insistence went to the door. ‘There’s nowhere to go that’s higher than this. We’ll have to climb on the roof and wait for the floodwater to go down.’ He pushed Rachel toward the makeshift ladder leaning on the barn door. ‘Apart from the trees, that’s the highest place on the farm. Get up there. I’ll pass Harold up to you.’

Rachel climbed the rickety ladder and scrambled onto the thatched roof, reaching beneath the thatch and tenuously grabbing hold of the slender branches tied to the roof beams. Thomas returned, handing Harold up to her. ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ he mumbled. ‘I go and see if the animals are alright.’

Rachel grabbed Harold and dragged him onto the roof beside her.

‘Be careful,’ she warned as he disappeared into the misty rain. ‘If the water is already up to the hut, it might be too late to save the animals.’

It was the last thing she said to him.

Swept Away

It was late morning now, approaching midday. The water was still rising and had now reached the roofline. Rachel could feel the flimsy slab hut shaking perilously and swaying in the current.

This situation can’t last much longer. If the water keeps rising, the hut will be washed away, she thought to herself. Rachel trembled at the realisation that no one could help her. Thomas had not returned. She shivered, partly with fear as she clutched Harold closer and inched up the roof away from the swirling floodwater.

Rachel closed her eyes and breathed slowly as she attempted to calm herself and relax. I need a plan, she thought. I have to survive. She blinked her eyes, straining to focus on a blurry shape nearby. As the image sharpened, she became aware of a young man about an arms-length before her.

Take my hand, Rachel, he invited. There is nothing to be afraid of. Do you see this slab of timber with the big iron ring and the door attached to it?

‘Yes.’

When your house starts to break up and float away in the floodwater, grab hold of it and don’t let go. I’ll bring a boat and help you. I promise.

Rachel blinked her eyes again. Where did that thought come from? Her hand felt warm from where he had touched her. She touched her face to see if she could still feel it.

Rachel was feeling quite detached from the chaotic scene unfolding around her now. She was watching herself clinging on to Harold and the roof as if she were an interested bystander. The water continued to rise, but she seemed to have lost all sense of time. Curiously, she was no longer concerned. Something in her knew she would survive. Perhaps that nice young man will come and help me, just as he promised, she thought. I wonder where he is from. I’ve not seen him here in the Colony before.

As the rising water neared the roofline, the whole building began to twist. One corner dipped perilously and water surged across the thatching. The south wall went first, and without support, the hut quickly tore itself apart. Once freed, the roof floated away, the churning current twisting it and pulling it under.

Then, there it was. From the corner of her eye, Rachel saw a slab of timber approaching. ‘Hold me tight, Harold,’ she called. ‘Whatever happens, try to hold on to me and try to stay afloat.’

Grasping the boy firmly by the hand, Rachel flung herself toward the iron hoop in the floating timber slab. Somehow, she was aided by the fury of the river as it rotated the roof, propelling her and the boy toward the timber slab.

Rachel grabbed for the ring, and just managed to cling to it, but watched in horror as Harold was swept from her side. She reached desperately for him, but he disappeared under the water. For several minutes, she groped in vain in the muddy water, calling him and trying to reach for him with her free hand.

After several frantic moments grasping and feeling for Harold, Rachel finally realised the truth of what had just happened. She began to sob, but she couldn’t let go of the iron ring. She dragged herself as far out of the water as she could. Hold on tight and don’t let go, she thought to herself. That young man said he would come and get me in his boat. You have to stay afloat and keep yourself out of the water as much as you can.

Trying to avoid letting go entirely, Rachel fumbled awkwardly with the belt from around her waist. She fastened it through the iron hoop to give her something else to hold, thinking she could wrap it around her hand and arm if needed. If she changed hands occasionally and didn’t get too tired, she reasoned she would have a better chance of staying afloat.

Trust me, Rachel, spoke the same mysterious voice. Hold tight and stay afloat. The river will carry you to place of safety. Whatever you do, don’t let go or I will never find you.

Déjà Vu

In a camp further down the river, William also woke with a start. His heart was pounding and with his fever worsening, he was lathered in perspiration. His bedding felt wet and his clothes clung clammily to his skin. The day couldn’t get much worse, he thought, it is just as wet inside the tent as outside. His head pounded with every beat of his heart and to make matters worse, his recurring dream had returned.

The same one that had haunted him since childhood—the one in which the young woman was being swept along by a river in flood—the one with the girl in the blue dress. The same dream that always seemed to end the same way—with both of them drowning in the same flooded river.

Outside, the wind shook the overhanging trees. Beyond the sound of the rain and the rustling branches, William thought he heard something else. There was a voice. It sounded like a young woman’s voice. She was screaming out for help.

That’s strange, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief. I’m sure I heard someone calling for help. It sounded like a woman’s voice. How could that be? I am alone here. There is no-one for miles, up or down the river.

It had been raining continuously now for over a week. Everything was sodden and the river had been rising steadily for two days. Only yesterday, he had moved his camp up the ridge so he wouldn’t be caught by the rising water. Yet, despite his proximity to the rising river, the immediacy of the drama about to unfold in his life still managed to evade him.

A few moments later, he heard the same voice calling again. This time he was quite sure it was not something he had imagined. He knew what he had heard. A cold shiver ran up his spine. Am I asleep or awake? Is this real or is it just another dream? That dream—the dream where the girl is being swept along in the flooded river.

The recurring nightmare of his childhood flashed through his mind. The dream that always seemed to end with him struggling for his life in the water—or wrestling with monstrous snakes. The one he had woken from so many times in a panic, gasping for breath and his heart racing. How many times had he dreamed of drowning while attempting to help her?

However, this wasn’t any recurring nightmare. This was the nightmare that had haunted his youth—the dream that had stirred him to leave India three years earlier. The same dream that had shaped his career, taking him two and a half times around the world on a restless search for her. In the last six months, he had been shipwrecked again, bringing him face to face with the possibility of death at least three times.

William pinched himself to see whether he was awake or asleep. He stooped to pick up a handful of muddy earth, raising it to his nostrils.

Usually, you don’t smell things in dreams, he thought.

He drew in the musty smell of wet earth.

Perhaps it’s more than a dream.

The full realisation of his present situation suddenly dawned on him. Perhaps it wasn’t just his imagination or a dream. A cold shiver ran up and down his spine.

The words flooded river, echoed through his thoughts. Whirlpools and eddies formed in his mind and he watched as they were swept along in a flooded river. In a moment of crystal clarity, he saw the image of a young woman clutching a small boy. She was reaching out for a slab of floating timber as her house broke apart and she was swept away.

The Hawkesbury River is in flood, he realised, just like the river in my dream.

A Flooded View

William took his spyglass and raced to the edge of the camp where an overhanging rock gave him a good view of the river upstream. There, before his eyes, clinging to a makeshift raft, just half a mile away and close to the far bank, his recurring nightmare was being played out before him.

His dream was alive and he was an active participant.

As he watched, a strong sense of déjà vu gripped him again. In his mind, all the possible outcomes he had dreamed before rippled through his consciousness.

‘Oh no…!’ William cried as he took in the significance of the reality unfolding before his eyes. ‘The girl in the flooded river—she is more than a symbol in a dream. She’s real…’

William knew exactly what he had to do now. He had dreamed this dream many, many times.

‘Not this time,’ he shouted in defiance to the heavens above, a desperate call to an unseen god. ‘This time I win. This time, we both survive.’

I’ll need a few things, William thought, and scampering back to his tent, grabbed his oilskin coat and a spare coil of rope, throwing them into the bow of the skiff.

Damn, he thought, running his hand over the timbers near the bow. These timbers have sprung more than I thought. I’ll need a baler.

William ran back to the fireplace and retrieved the billy he used to make tea. ‘This will have to do,’ he mumbled under his breath.

As he turned, on an impulse, he picked up a sharp knife lying beside the fire, quickly slashing the ropes fixing a small canvas shelter beside his tent.

This tarp may be handy, he thought. If necessary, I can use it to arrest the leak.

He folded the tarp roughly in quarters, ran back to the skiff and threw his booty into the bow.

His preparations made, William scanned the river looking for his quarry.

‘Hold on! I’ll be with you in just a few moments,’ William shouted.

This is not the sturdiest craft for the task, he thought, especially with that sprung timber near the bow. But, better than having no boat at all.

As William deftly pushed the small dinghy into the calmer water near the shore, the light seemed gloomier. The sky was dripping grey and his mind was uneasy. He knew the power of rushing water all too well. Memories of the various scenarios of this life or death drama flashed through his mind again.

The rescue was going to take some juggling. He would need to keep the bow high, to keep the sprung timbers above the water line as much as possible. However, that meant the risk of capsizing, with water coming over the stern. Periodically, he would have to cast his fate to the river while he stopped rowing to bale.

Perhaps the girl can bale while I row, he thought.

Taking the oars in his hands, William drew in a deep breath. He had been in many worse situations—much worse than this. To William, being in a boat was all in a day’s work—no harder than eating a piece of cake or taking a walk in the park.

However, being in a leaky boat in a raging river in flood was different. This would be no summer afternoon stroll in the park. This was now a matter of life or death—if things went wrong, his. And if that were to be the outcome, he would never see his beloved family in England again.

Regardless of the personal outcome for William, the girl’s fate was definitely on the line. ‘Not this time,’ he shouted, reassuring himself. ‘This time I win. This time, we both survive.’

A Leaky Boat

The current grabbed at the small boat, almost wrenching one oar from his grip. The craft slewed sideways into the torrent. Too late to reconsider, he thought. This just has to be done.

Drawing on skills honed from a lifetime at sea, William reached deep within, summoning all the strength he could muster to bring the boat under control. He soon began to sense the hidden undercurrents, and as he worked with them, he felt slightly more comfortable and more at home. However, he could not be complacent. He knew very well that these currents also had the power to snatch both the skiff, and its occupants, and dash them to pieces against submerged rocks.

Instinctively, he sensed the way the hidden currents dragged at the skiff and worked with them to steer toward the outer bank of the bend, bringing him closer and closer to his quarry.

The small craft tossed and bucked in the current. But no matter what it threw at them, both William and his craft clung brazenly to the back of the wild, sinuous serpent.

Who was this audacious young man who dared ride the torrent of doom in an attempt to snatch back the river’s prize? Nobody could be that stupid. Nobody was going to steal this prize from Neptune’s grasp.

But William wasn’t any young man, and he wasn’t going to be beaten by a river in flood. Not this river—and definitely not this flood. For although he wasn’t fully aware of why he was actually there, in the midst of this unfolding colonial drama, even he realised there was now too much at stake. There was now too much to live for and it was not in his nature to give up easily.

Here and now, all his dreams, all his aspirations, and hers, were on a rapidly converging collision course. No longer were they adrift and alone in the timeless space of his dreams. Now, buffeted by the wind and lashed by the rain, they were both being swept downstream by the raging fury of the river in flood, toward a rendezvous with destiny.

William could clearly see the young woman clinging desperately to the remains of a broken family dream. She was surrounded by a procession of floating and partly submerged debris, the dirty brown flood water being strewn with the wreckage of recently intact upstream settlements.

William edged the skiff closer to the girl. Having been through many versions of this scenario in his dreams, he knew he had only minutes to enact the rescue. But dreams are one thing. This was no longer a dress rehearsal. He knew all too well that if he failed this time, all hope, in this reality at least, would be lost. And the inner hopes and dreams he had nurtured for a better way of life would be flushed silently toward an alternative fate.

William shuddered as he confronted the cold, wet reality of a possibility once foretold on the streets of Bombay by a toothless old seer. It was an appointment with Davy Jones’ locker that William had no intention of keeping.

Snatched From the Jaws of Death

William had the girl firmly fixed in his sight now. He was running roughly parallel to her and knew he was only going to get one opportunity to snatch her to safety. To optimise his chance of success, he wanted her slightly astern of midships on his starboard side. He wanted the current to carry her towards him, not drag her away at the last moment as it had done so many times before.

Rowing faster, William allowed himself to get slightly in front of her, calling to her to be ready to let go—to jump when he signalled.

When he was sure he was in exactly the right position, he dug in his oars, allowing the skiff to prop momentarily.

‘Let go now,’ he yelled.

The sudden change in his forward motion had just the right effect. In a fraction of a second, her makeshift raft slammed into the starboard side of his small boat, just near the stern. Leaning toward her, with one deftly timed movement, utilising the momentum of the river and the rocking of the boat as leverage, William swept her from the flimsy raft and the clutches of the river.

Moments later, she sat shivering in the relative safety of his small craft. ‘Stay near the stern and keep low. Here, cover up and try to get warm,’ he instructed, tossing her the oilskin coat before taking up the oars to bring the craft back under his control. ‘We aren’t out of danger yet.’

The young woman was shaking uncontrollably now, looking more like a soggy wet doll that had been dragged through a muddy pond than the confident young woman of his dreams.

Opening her mouth, she attempted to speak, but words seemed to fail her. She nodded in silent assent and stammered a muted word of thanks. At this precise moment, she was hardly in any position to argue or complain.

However, everything William or the young woman in the soggy, mud-stained, tattered blue dress knew or thought they knew, was about to change.

For this wasn’t any young woman. This was…

‘Thanks. I’m… Rach… Rachel,’ she stammered, shivering as she wrapped herself in the oilskin coat. Somehow, she managed to compose her thoughts and stop them from turning in slow spirals, just as the boat was doing only moments before.

Strangely, his presence brought a sense of order to the surrounding chaos. ‘I know who you are,’ he said as he brought the craft slowly back under control. ‘I met you in my dream. Where are you from?’

‘From up-river, near the Green Hills,’ she replied. ‘Who are you?’

‘William… Lieutenant William Fischer, Royal Navy.’

‘Thanks, Mister. Do I call you Mr. William or Lieutenant Fischer? Why did you say that we aren’t out of danger?’

‘This craft is too small and fragile. There’s a leaking plank near the bow and the current is too strong. With so much cloud and it now being late afternoon, it will soon be dark. We don’t have much time to find a place to shelter. No need for formalities, this isn’t a navy ship. You can call me William.’

‘I think I’ll call you Capt’n. What about your camp?’

‘We cannot go back up-river yet,’ he replied. ‘We will have to wait for the water in the river to drop. There’s a place further down the river a couple