When Fire Sounds Like Water

Deeply asleep under my mosquito net, I am having a delicious dream in swirly colors of purple.

I have encountered a piece of art by one of my favorite artists, a piece I didn’t know existed. It is hanging sideways and created by the same woman who painted “The Dance of Joy,” even though in my dream it is signed by someone else (because you know how dreams are) and as I am dreaming, I am making a mental note to let my friend Julianna know about this because she too loves “The Dance of Joy.”

And then, I hear a sound. Not in my dream. A sound that is odd enough that I reluctantly bring my consciousness back to under the mosquito net, away from the yummy swirly purple.

What IS this sound?

It comes from the bathroom but it is not familiar. It kind of sounds like dripping water, but less organized.

Is Lila doing something strange? Is she drinking out of the toilet? But no. This is something else. In the dark, I ask Lila what she is doing. She sighs as though I just woke her up. Maybe she too was having a good dream. Tiji is right next to me, her little ears pointed up.

What the heck is this?

No way to ignore it, I walk into the bathroom hoping whatever / whoever I am going to find there is not going to be too far outside my re-arranged scale of normal.
The little brick openings at the top of the bathroom wall are glowing bright orange.
And the sound? It’s not water, it’s … fire! Fire that is crackling loudly and has to be mighty close to my house.

What the heck? is right.

I swing my pink robe over my shoulders as if it were a superhero cape, look for my power rubber boots but can’t find them, and settle for flip-flops. Then I call Lila to please come with me and we make our way through the yard and to the back of the house. Yup, I can see flames and they are tall.

My first thought is: “I need to call Rai.”

Rai is my friend and my neighbor. He lives across the field from me and over the past few months since he moved into his jungly RV, he and I have marveled at “the way things are over here.” Often in awe and gratitude and sometimes in disbelief and … less awe. He is from Spain and I like him very much. We have had some mini adventures together but never in the middle of the night. As I see the flames getting closer to my house, I am thinking tonight might be our first.

But before I can call him, I hear him. I am on one side of my fence and there he is, right on the outside, followed by his pup Ita. It’s as though he has appeared out of nowhere, kinda like this fire. For some reason, we both start laughing. Seeing him, I immediately feel better and find myself clicking into “This is just another adventure” mode. I can’t remember exactly what we say although for some reason I feel that it is important for me to know what time it is; so I ask him and he is kind enough to answer even though I can tell he thinks the question is irrelevant, which it is. It is 2:30 am, the field is ablaze and I have now become aware that the flames are traveling scarily close to my two gas tanks.

I hop over to my garden hose, begging it to not come un-hooked from the spigot as it often does, turn it on, and hand it to Rai over the fence. We can hear the sound of two men talking. I think they too are trying to control this fire which is moving towards my back wall. Did they start the fire? At 2 in the morning? And if so… why?

The water helps and it seems that we are making our way out of the danger zone. So we share: We start to tell The Story of The Fire because - as I am convinced - when things are a little scary telling the story is often helpful. Rai tells me how he was at home, listening to music when he saw the flames. He said they were big and they were close to my house, so in the dark and on foot, he walked across the field to come get a closer look. Did I mention how much I like this guy?

I tell him that I was dreaming, that I woke up because of the sound.

We are laughing again now and we conclude that someone must have been clearing the land and say that good-thing-it-wasnt-in-the-middle-of-the-day. Somehow, Gratitude has shown up.

A few minutes later, things are under control, the two men are taking over the soaking, and Rai and Ita make their way back home across the field. Lila and I walk into our smokey house, Tiji is on the bed wondering if we could please get back to regular programming.
I know there is no way I am going to sleep so I grab my keyboard to write. Because as I said, Telling the Story helps.

Before I start writing though, I send Rai a message saying that we should always have our passports packed and ready in case of emergency, the titles of the lands, too. I guess the adrenaline is still running through me and I’m trying to pre-organize the potential next time. Grabbing control where I can.

I still marvel at how we both showed up at the same time, me from a deep sleep and him from a quiet late night at home.

Seconds later I get a message from Rai: “Don’t worry. We’re protected.”

Yeah, I think he’s right.

This life…