A Tale from a Ghost Dance

The year was 1002, and it was a brilliant morning. The day was expected to be warm with only a slight breeze. The sky promised to be crystal clear. To the north and east stood tall mountain ranges that by midday would cast dark shadows over most of the valley. Signs of vegetation were abundant, as were frequent sightings of flocks of birds in the sky, playfully soaring high to the heavens above. The ground had been cleared through many generations of ceremonial rituals. It was sunrise, and in the background was the sound of a drum, provided by a drummer, who rhythmically beat with a single drumstick. A group of five Indians appeared each one wearing buckskin wrapped around his colorfully painted body. Each was adorned around his waist with colorful beads, and a necklace of various shells hung fully down his chest. Their feet were wrapped in soft moccasins that muffled the sound as they stepped rhythmically to the beat of the drum. The leader, who was later revealed as the elder of the tribe, wore a buffalo head with horns, shook a rattle with one hand, and held in his other hand an eagle feather representing the most powerful medium for purifying one’s thoughts.

Different chants, only familiar to themselves, combined with the beat of the drum. They gracefully moved in a circular fashion to the left, in the direction of the sun, which reaffirmed the east as the direction where life starts. They were dancing not to their spirits, but as their spirits once danced to their ancestors before them. There was beauty and style in their movements, a ceremonial dance of pride, which began at sunrise and would end at sunset. It was one of their many ceremonial dances whose purpose was to maintain harmony and balance with the universe.

There were others who did not dance but who squatted in a circle surrounding the Dancers. They held prayer sticks, bowls of sacred water, corn bread, eagle feathers, a cedar pipe with a stone bowl, and a bowl of burning tobacco and sweet grass. They remained in their position until the dance ended.

At sunset, the Dance approached its climax, and then suddenly ended. The Dancers were brought the sacred water to drink and the corn bread to eat. They sat on the earth looking very tired, and began to inhale the smoke from the burning tobacco and the sweet grass to be purified, while the others departed the grounds. A full moon began its ascent.

Each of the five Dancers had several known names, the result from each person’s dreams and visions. Each dancer also had a secret name that was used in prayer, to make direct contact with his spirit.

The elder carefully transferred some of the burning tobacco and sweet grass from the bowl to the pipe that had been lying by his side. He chanted a prayer aloud and held the pipe over his head to the heavens; then uttering a sound known only to him he passed the pipe to his left to the next Dancer. As the pipe was passed from Dancer to Dancer each person uttered a sound only know to himself. When the pipe returned to the elder, silence returned.

In spite of their discomfort and exhaustion, each Dancer continued to pray for pureness of heart, body, and soul; to be humble, honest, loving, and respectful.

The night’s cool breeze was not felt by the dancers, they were in a trance; they were in contact with their spirit. They were keeping their faith.

It was 1956 in a small New England town. The ranch-style house was one of the smallest houses in the neighborhood called Colonial Manors. It was a new neighborhood development built on prior farmland outside the city to attract young married working couples with young-aged children. All houses were brick, two to three bedrooms, kitchen, family room with fireplace, basement, and two-car garage. A pride of home ownership was evident in the neat and clean appearance of the properties. Owners of these homes, of European ancestry, were struggling to make financial ends meet. These first generation American couples expected their children to have a better life than them. Although prideful of their heritage, thoughts of the "old country" was something to leave behind. America was a land of opportunity.

It was expected their children would attend college, work as a professional such as a doctor, lawyer, or teacher, earn lots of money, and repeat the process for their children.

"Victoria, you are testing my patience! I am getting sick and tired of hearing about your so-called dreams into the future. You really can’t expect your father and me to believe this one." Victoria’s mother, Paula, stood with her hands on her hips frowning at Victoria. They were in their kitchen as Victoria’s father, Phil, sat at the kitchen table, at a safe distance, trying to read the sports section of the Saturday morning newspaper.

He continued to stare at the paper, not reading. "That’s right, babe. Your mother and I were willing to listen to your stories at first, but now I think it’s getting out of hand. I mean, don’t you think you’ve gone too far with this one!" He placed the newspaper on the table and walked toward the coffeepot to pour another cup of coffee.

Victoria stood between her troubled parents, looking at them alternatively. "But, Mom, Dad, I am telling you what I dreamt, really! I saw the Citizens Bank get robbed! Honest!"

Victoria’s imaginative mind troubled her parents. Her height and weight were normal for her age, and the family doctor said there weren’t any irregular signs in her intellect, personality, or behavior. With long black curly hair and brown eyes that were inherited from her father, and a smile and curious disposition inherited from her mother, Victoria’s outward appearance radiated happiness and balance. She seemed to be a typical normal girl of fourteen years.

Paula, dressed in a house-robe, slippers, and hair curlers not yet removed from last night’s sleep, shook her head and stepped closer to her daughter. "Do you remember your first dream? You really put a scare into your Dad and me. It was about your friend’s dog getting lost. Do you remember that, honey?"

Victoria’s eyes started to swell with tears as she said, "Yes, I remember. But the dog didn’t run away as I had dreamed. It came back!"

"Yes, honey. The dog came back after it was gone for two days. And then the next dream was about the roof leak, then the brush fire, and then the car accident. Do you remember those?"

"Yes, Mom. But we learned why they happened!"

There was a pause as they affectionately looked at each other. Then Victoria continued, "But Mom, the gate needed to be locked so the dog wouldn’t get out again, and the tree that fell on the house was the cause of the roof leak, and a camper accidentally started the brush fire, and the car accident was caused by someone who went through a red light."