The Dream Jumper's Promise Read online

  “Hey, Boss Lady. I think Molokini might work. I’m willing to try if you are.” Dave sounded confident about taking out the boat, and Tina knew his motivation. If a dive instructor didn’t dive, he didn’t get paid.

  “Hmmm. I hate to cancel two days in a row.”

  Dave paused. “We didn’t cancel yesterday. We went to Lanai.”

  “Dave? We canceled Molokini yesterday.”

  “Dude. What are you smoking?” He sounded serious. “We went to Lanai yesterday—the Cathedrals, then Turtle Reef. Remember when I came back, we talked about you fainting?”

  “Yesterday we canceled Molokini.” Tina stared at the phone, and then brought it back to her ear. The pause on the other end made her wonder if Dave was checking a calendar. “Today is Wednesday.” He sounded sober enough.

  “I’ll call you right back.” Glancing at the TV news, she saw that today was indeed Wednesday, March twenty second. She froze. Dave hadn’t lost a day. She had.

  She sank to the floor and covered her mouth with her hand. What happened to the day she knew as yesterday? The one where she’d woken from the dream with coral in her hand and gone to see Dr. Chan? She looked to the aquarium, where she’d put the coral from her dream. It wasn’t there.

  The phone rang. Without saying hello, Dave asked if he should take out the charter.

  In a fog of confusion, she whispered that she’d leave the decision to him and hung up. Trying to remember details of yesterday that would confirm she wasn’t going crazy, she looked down to see her legs perfectly clear, free from coral cuts.

  The broken vase sat exactly where it had been two days before, whole and beautiful, with the bouquet of flowers her friend Pepper had brought on Sunday. The Chinese screen was upright. Undamaged.

  She crossed to the kitchen to confirm the existence of last night’s beer and teriyaki, but the fridge was empty, with only condiments on the shelves and a fuzzy papaya rotting in the crisper. She held onto the refrigerator handle until she knew she wasn’t going to drop to the floor like the faint in the dive shop two days ago. No— yesterday. Had she not woken with coral in her hand, soaking wet, with scrapes on her body?

  Maybe she was dreaming right now and Dave’s call was a part of the dream. A pinch on her forearm was painful. Obi’s look of concern mirrored hers. “Am I losing my mind?” Saying it out loud gave the idea life and a shiver sped up Tina’s spine.

  The Xanax bottle was on the bathroom counter in the same position as when she’d gone to bed two nights before. She hadn’t put the prescription away after Doc Chan told her to stop taking it, because Emily Chan had never told her to stop.

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, Tina tried to process the fact that she hadn’t woken with coral in her hand, gone to see Dr. Chan, been taken off Xanax. Nor had she watched TV with Noble and then drifted off into a sleep without dreams. She hadn’t even seen Jamey with his wife at the grocery store. As far as she knew, Jamey didn’t have a wife. She’d dreamed so vividly, it had been impossible to tell dreamscape from reality.

  Running her fingers through her layered brown hair, Tina attempted to erase one day from her life. It seemed inconceivable that it was only eight hours since she’d slipped into bed on Tuesday night, the day the police gave her Hank’s wallet. Shortly after that, she’d seen James Dunn in the dive shop. Or had she? Tina had to think for a minute to sort out if that had been a dream too. No. She’d fainted and woke up looking at James. Jamey.

  Hurrying to the bedroom, she noticed the wallet on the corner of her antique French dresser, right where she’d left it. And she was wearing the Pink Floyd T-shirt from Tuesday night. The cerulean nightgown was neatly folded in a drawer, wrapped in tissue paper.

  A gust of wind forced its way through her yard and the slant of the palms momentarily distracted her. The sky was quickly lightening to gray. Today would be a stormy one, the first day of the Kona storm, not the second. The rain hadn’t arrived yet.

  She called Dave. He’d cancelled the charter. “You feeling okay today?” he asked. She could almost hear him holding his breath.

  “I was groggy from a sleeping pill, but I’m fine now.”

  Dave sounded convinced that she could be that confused. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that Dave’s girlfriend, Sally, had rescued him from the bars of Maui and introduced him to the Lahaina Alano Club and AA. Dave was not quick to judge another person’s confusion. Especially someone who’d recently spent months in bed mourning the disappearance of her husband.

  On the good side, Tina had not canceled a day of diving. And now she must continue the day as if the strange dream hadn’t picked up her life and shaken it upside down like a snow globe, dislodging everything that wasn’t glued down.

  A real visit to Doc Chan would now be at the top of her list.

  Tina’s non-appointment the day before had been full of the fear of waking with coral in her wet hand. Today her concerns were entirely different. She’d have to admit to her shrink that she’d experienced a whole day that did not exist.

  ***

  Lahaina’s downtown was traffic-free as Tina drove the stretch that attracted tourists from all over the world. Lahaina had everything visitors wanted in a quaint Hawaiian town—picturesque sea wall, statues of salty whalers and one-eyed fishermen, colorful buildings trimmed in sea-foam white, restaurants boasting Jimmy Buffet-type entertainment. All this, and dependably good weather. The Hawaiian word lahaina meant ‘merciless sun,’ appropriately so, because the town was protected from most bad weather by the towering mountains on the east side. Not today, though. This bad weather came from the south.

  Tina didn’t notice any of this as she raced to the medical building to get as much time with her shrink as possible, before the other crazies—the scheduled ones—arrived.

  “I’m concerned that your dreams are confusing you.” Emily Chan’s foot tapped the edge of her desk as she suggested the problem might be the Xanax. Doctor Chan was the only psychiatrist on Maui’s west side. Fresh from Loma Linda medical school, she was familiar with new treatments and drugs. Being current was immensely appreciated by Tina. “The drug could be producing lifelike dreams,” she said. “I’m going to suggest you use it only for emergencies.”

  Tina’s eyes widened. “That’s basically what you said in my dream.” Another thought came to mind. “Do you know of any way to wake up during a dream? If this happens again, I’m going to need to know if it’s real life.” At the very least, the consequences might be embarrassing if she thought she was in a dream state, only to find out it was reality. “And how could a dream span twenty-four hours?”

  The doctor didn’t seem as worried that the dream lasted a full twenty-four hours. “Dreams can appear to span long periods of time, when in fact, they really only take a few minutes of sleep.” Pages from the German psychoanalyst, Carl Jaspers, lay across Dr. Chan’s desk. “You had what is called W.I.L.D. a Wake-Initiated Lucid Dream, meaning you didn’t fall asleep knowingly but entered a dream state straight from consciousness. Then you experienced what is referred to as a false awakening. In this case it was what Dr. Celia Green categorized as type two. Listen to this: ‘The subject appears to wake up in a realistic manner, but to an atmosphere of suspense. His surroundings may at first appear normal, and he may gradually become aware of something uncanny in the atmosphere, and perhaps of unwonted sounds and movements. Or he may ‘awake’ immediately to a ‘stressed’ and ‘stormy’ atmosphere. In either case, the end result would appear to be characterized by feelings of suspense, excitement or apprehension.”

  The doctor looked up. “Shouting sometimes works to wake up. Concentrate on opening your mouth, taking a breath and yelling. If that doesn’t work, try closing your eyes in the dream and opening them again. Sometimes that causes the dreamer to actually open their eyes. Or kick hard. Concentrate on feeling the kick and hope to wake from the jolt.” Doc Chan nodded at her patient. “Have a routine when you think you are awake to confirm your state of consciousness, lik
e splashing cold water on your face or counting to one hundred. In dreams, you would not stop long enough to count.”

  The more Tina recounted the day that didn’t exist, the more dead pockets of time she found. She hadn’t actually experienced a whole day. She’d skipped from her doctor visit to the grocery store to being home with Noble. She’d had a W.I.L.D. and a false awakening, type 2. Fine. Identifying the problem was only the first step.

  Stepping out of Dr. Chan’s pristine office, the real problem hit her smack in the gut. Would these dreams continue, and if they did, how could she control them before she did something regrettable?

  ***

  Tina ran up the stairs to her darkened house, dodging the streaming waterfalls pouring off the roof. Her hair hung in wet clumps and her pink stretch dress was drenched.

  From the deck, she could see Noble was standing in the kitchen, the stove light illuminating his form. A wave of relief engulfed her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. Was he going to make dinner for her? These days, Noble ate at work and Tina brought home takeout. He hadn’t cooked in a long time, and it looked like tonight was her lucky night.

  He turned when she slid the screen door aside, and the look on his face reassured her that if she was going crazy, Noble was her sanity. This man kept Tina grounded when she started to float away. With Noble’s smiling face in front of her, moving on seemed possible.

  “Are you cooking?” She took a sniff but there was no scent of food simmering on the stove.

  “No.” He looked mournful, like he wished he had made dinner for them. “But I’m a four today.” He said this hopefully.

  “I’m three. But let’s order pizza and I’ll be a four.” She tromped off to her bedroom to change into dry clothes.

  When she emerged in an old T-shirt of Hank’s and a pair of Capri pants, Noble was gone. She seated herself in front of the TV. But when an hour had passed and he still hadn’t returned with a pizza, she went to bed, confused. When he disappeared to his cottage out back, it was usually because he didn’t want to impose his mood on her. But he’d said he was a four. Tina couldn’t help wonder if she was dreaming again and she was still asleep.

  ***

  Tina flew through the shop’s back door, left her backpack on the counter and greeted her paying customers. “Good morning, everyone. Don’t worry. It’s still a good day for diving. Rain on the water’s surface makes no difference to scuba divers unless the water is turbid from soil runoff. That will not be the case at Molokini, it being an isolated rock with little dirt on it, miles off Maui.” Several of them smiled at her. “It’s windy, but I’ve been out in much worse,” she said just as Jamey walked in. Oh yeah, he was on the roster to dive.

  His hair was just long enough to look wet, like he’d showered before a dive charter. The other customers looked like they’d barely rolled out of bed and would be using the dive to wake up. She smiled, remembering that Jamey was a neat freak. Once he’d told her that his neatness came from a need to keep his life organized and orderly, and she’d laughed at the seriousness of his expression. Now that he was in the army, she imagined he got to be as fastidious as he wanted. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra hand that morning, especially as Dave looked hung-over, with droopy, red-rimmed eyes and matted white-blond hair that suggested he’d lost his comb days ago. She hoped to hell he wasn’t drinking after six months of sobriety.

  Jamey smiled at the other customers and glanced at Tina like the last ten years never happened. Looking down at his hand, Tina noticed the absence of a wedding ring.

  “Let’s fit everyone for wetsuits.” Tina touched Dave’s arm on her way to the rack of neoprene jackets. “Please free the octopus today.”

  He pulled his cell phone away from his ear and clicked it shut. “Sally’s sick. She can’t work the boat.”

  Tina’s shoulders slumped. Goddammit. They didn’t have time to phone around for another dive instructor. They needed to get out on the water before the wind got worse. Or, before the customers chickened out. Tina would have to take Sally’s place. No question. “I’ll drive, you dive.” The words were in the air before she gave them much thought.

  Coast Guard law stipulated that someone with a captain’s license was needed to stay on the boat at all times. Tina had a license. She couldn’t get in the water anymore, but sitting on the boat might be possible. It had been months since she’d tried. Her heart twisted. Her face was hot. She had to do it. On her way out the door, she checked for her emergency supply of Xanax in the side pocket of her backpack.

  ***

  The Maalaea harbor was the closest boat launch to Molokini, one of Hawaii’s most talked-about dive sites. Molokini Crater was a sunken volcanic top, miles off the coast of Maui, but still shallow enough to dive the center.

  Tina drove her boat, Maui Dream, past the jetty. As the wind forced itself against them, she angled the craft to absorb as little of the wave crashing as possible. In anticipation of heavy seas, the customers were already in wetsuits, their dive masks at the ready. There was no way to get everyone to Molokini without getting jostled and soaked to the core. Tina stood behind a Plexiglas shield at the center console and slung her mask over the throttle, hoping to duck behind the shield when the crashing waves marred her vision. “Hang on,” she yelled. Easing the throttle forward, she found a suitable speed for the ordeal and settled in at the wheel, feet planted firmly apart.

  The boat pounded the ocean’s surface for the entire thirty-minute crossing. Finally, Tina steered into the center of the crater and tucked in to the calmest water available. The usual first dive at the tip of the crescent, Reef’s End, was too exposed to the wind today. They’d dive inside the crater. She dropped anchor carefully in the sand.

  After donning gear, the divers jumped off the boat and descended with Dave. Jamey had helped others launch and would bring up the back of the group. “You still comfortable in the water?” Tina asked.

  “Yup.” He jumped off the swim step and plunged into the turquoise water. “Aloha,” he said, just before putting the regulator in his mouth. She watched him drop below the surface without the fussy preamble of a beginner diver. Because she’d trained him beyond basic certification, she allowed herself to feel proud and partially responsible, even though it had been a decade.

  Earlier, she’d overheard him tell someone that he’d done a lot of diving. Had he been on Maui, and with whom? She just assumed he never came back to the islands after they broke up. Her interest in him was both surprising and disappointing.

  Looking over the side of the boat, she located a blurry blob of wavy colors, the customers waiting below. The visibility looked awesome and everyone would be happy they’d been talked into this dive, especially because there were no other boats brave enough to dive in the crater that morning. They’d feel like heroes for taking on the crossing and, as the story gained momentum over a sunset Mai Tai that night, they’d become daring adventurers, modern-day pirates.

  After months of being landlocked, it was good to be back on the boat. Nine months was a long time for her to not be in the water. Or near the water. Last time she was on the boat was at Hank’s memorial. She never suspected then she’d be landlocked so long.

  That day she’d insisted on driving Maui Dream, despite her friends’ protests. “Let Noble drive,” Pepper had suggested. But Tina wanted to captain her own boat. She hoped to draw strength from the familiarity. Pepper worried that reality hadn’t hit Tina yet. It hadn’t.

  More than twenty boats comprised the flotilla that motored their way up the Maui coast to the northern bay. Even the Lin Wa and the Trilogy, both busy sunset charter boats, cancelled customers and joined the procession. Making money that night had been secondary.

  It was a lovely tribute to her husband’s popularity in town.

  Tina had worried about not looking enough like a grieving widow, but a corner of her heart still hoped he’d simply left the island, run away. How could she look distraught when there was no body? She hadn’t a
ccepted his death with one hundred percent finality. Glancing at the cliffs, she half-expected to see Hank waving to them. Look, everyone, he’s not dead and he didn’t desert me. He had amnesia.

  That day they’d followed Hawaiian tradition by throwing flower leis into the water and watched the blossoms bob on the pink sunset waves. As the mourners said prayers and goodbyes, Tina was thankful her parents hadn’t come to Maui for the memorial. Only months after 9/11, her mother was terrified of flying.

  When they pulled out of the bay where Hank presumably surfed the last day of his life, Tina looked back to see a small humpback whale emerge near the floating leis. It blew a spray of water, sending a fountain of flowers into the air. “Look!” she’d cried. They cut the motors and watched the whale jump among the leis, cutting the surface in sprays of frothy waves and blooms. For weeks afterwards, that moment was referred to with reverence. Some said it was Hank, showing he lived on in the ocean, but Tina hadn’t been convinced.

  Now she watched sea birds tuck into Molokini’s pocked rock face to return to their sheltered nests, waiting for her customers to return to the boat. Soon bubbles would appear at the stern, indicating the first divers were back. The deepest dive was always first and took less time than a shallow one because of the need for more air at depth. They’d go eighty feet on the first dive and thirty on the second, a thought that left her panicked.

  Tina stared at the water and waited. How in hell would she ever get back in the ocean? All her talk of ear infections and rashes was a thin veil of an excuse. Already, conversations had started around town about her selling the shop. If the dive community on Maui knew why she was beached, she could kiss her business goodbye. The other scuba shops in Lahaina would circle hers like sharks waiting to feed on a dying seal. Pacific Dive and Surf from Honolulu, had been waiting on the periphery for months, having asked for first consideration if she decided to sell.

  Months ago, her dive shop had acquired an envied reputation and notoriety when a photo of Tina with Hollywood’s hottest couple had found its way into a recent edition of People magazine. Hank had set up the outing in a marketing strategy just before he died but never got to see the published photo. It was that burst of publicity that finally got Tina out of bed to reopen the dive shop. And now, all that free advertising might be short-lived for a widow who had a crippling aversion to the water. How could she promote the safety of diving when she couldn’t even get in the ocean?