Search for the Sunlight

The Loch was of Brobdingnagian proportions.

Reaching out in every direction, as far as the eye could see, the pale graphite surface was so completely still that it could easily have been mistaken for glass.

On the horizon, where the metallic grey water met the steely sky, it created the most peculiar illusion of nothingness.

The Beeble sat weeping on the stony shoreline. He was drying his singed and blackened face on his handkerchief when the Treewoods arrived offering their sincere condolences at the sad loss of his beard.

Fearing the worst, the giant dared to look at his reflection on the mirror surface of the water and when he saw the face that stared back at him, he gasped, for it was that of his younger self!

“Actually, I don’t look too bad without the beard,” he said, touching his hairless chin with his fingers just to be sure it was really him. The travellers agreed, adding that the absence of his thick facial hair made him look a lot less fearsome.

Relieved that The Beeble’s injuries extended no further than his vanity, Harry’s curiosity led him off along the narrow shore line. He had only walked a short distance, when he picked up a small perfectly round pebble from the gravel beach and threw it into the loch.

To his astonishment, when the stone broke the surface of the water, the most beautiful music floated skywards and filled the still air with a soothing melody, the likes of which he had never heard before. As the resulting ripples slowly ebbed away, so the music gradually faded until pure silence returned once more.

“Wow, did you hear that?” Harry called out, looking back towards the others. But there was no response. They were too involved in conversation with the giant to have noticed.

He picked up another pebble and repeated the exercise. This time, they all heard the beautiful sound. Once again, as the ripples slowly calmed, the music faded leaving the travellers basking in a warm, aura of inner peace, the feeling of which, was quite unlike anything they had experienced before.

“What is this place?” Herbert asked the giant.

“This place, as you so crudely put it, is called The Sea of Dreams,” The Beeble replied.

“It is no ordinary sea,” he continued, lowering his voice as he spoke, “It is a very sacred place.” He was plainly concerned that someone or something might be listening to the conversation and like a confidante checking for eavesdroppers, he looked over each of his shoulders in turn before explaining his suspicious behaviour to the travellers.

“We must keep our voices low,” he insisted. “There are demons and creatures, not of this earth, lurking in the fog, gathering information for the Devil himself, and what I am about to share with you could get us into serious trouble.”

Curious as to the nature of the giant’s secret, the travellers gathered round to hear what he had to say.

“Deep beneath the surface of this vast inland ocean, lies the entrance to the underworld,” He began. “The place where the wicked souls of the damned are sent, to suffer eternal torment at the hands of Abaddon, lord of the dead. But every so often, through prayers from the living, a condemned soul may be granted forgiveness and released from the depths of purgatory, to rise up through the lower realms into what is known as ‘The Waiting Room.’ There, as the name suggests, the forgiven soul must wait until something or someone, like yourselves, comes along and breaks the surface of the water, freeing it from the shackles of Hell and allowing it to enter the first of four higher levels of consciousness and enlightenment as it begins its sacred journey to Nirvana, the ultimate state of spiritual perfection and the final resting place. There, it will become one with the creator himself.

Strange, you might think that an evil soul should be granted forgiveness for the most hideous of sins past, but it is not for us to judge. Only the creator can decide. It is written, that we will all be surprised at who we meet in Heaven.”

“And, who we don’t meet,” Harry muttered, with an uncomfortable air of cynicism.

“Incidentally, the beautiful music that you heard when you broke the surface of the water was the sound of a guiding angel as it welcomed another forgiven soul onto the first rung of the ladder of ascension, to begin its homeward journey.”

Harry shivered. The sheer thrill of this privileged insight into the afterlife made the twigs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. “I’d better start behaving myself,” he muttered.

That evening, the group sat round a roaring fire, exchanging stories with the giant, but in spite of the good company, and Harry’s excellent tea, Basil found it difficult to relax.

He was struggling to erase the disturbing images of the underworld that the Beeble had planted in his mind. Then he began to wonder how deep the Sea of Dreams might be. Did it stop at the gates of Hell, or did it go on into infinity, perhaps even another dimension? He was desperate to know.

“How deep is the Sea of Dreams?” he finally blurted out, uncharacteristically butting in on The Beeble’s conversation with Harry.

Unprepared for Basil’s sudden interruption, the giant paused and began stroking his chin thoughtfully. This simple action made him flinch. He quickly withdrew his hand and began fumbling uncomfortably with his neckerchief in the hope that no one had noticed, for he had forgotten that his beard was no longer there.

“To be honest,” he replied, a little self consciously, “I’m not entirely sure. But what I do know is that it’s much deeper than I am tall. I have also heard, on good authority, that if for any reason you should reach the bottom, then you’ll come out on the other side of the world.”

“Unless of course, you happen to be dead,” Harry interrupted. “In which case you’d come out on the other side of the underworld!” He began to snigger. Poor Harry. He couldn’t help himself. He had put his shades on again and retreated into the fantasy world of Marlon Bramble. “Paff!” Basil turned away in annoyance. He was trying to be serious and all Harry could do was faff about!

“How can we get to the other side?” he enquired impatiently, trying his best to ignore Harry’s frivolous comment, whilst pressing The Beeble for more information.

Brian, who was dozing quietly by the fire, had been listening to the conversation and before the giant could answer Basil’s question, he opened one eye and looked up from where he lay. “We’ve got the wok,” he said casually. “We can sail.”

With that, he stretched out to his full length, turned over on his side and went back to sleep. To an ex-Wizard, like himself, it all seemed so obvious.

“Yeah,” Harry drawled, snapping his fingers Rock’n’roll style whilst nodding his head enthusiastically at the prospect of a leisurely cruise. “We’ll embark first thing tomorrow,

Shall we?”

In the morning, the party routinely packed their belongings and at 6:15 a.m. precisely, they woke the sleeping giant to say goodbye.

“Thank you for everything,” Basil said, with sadness in his voice. It always upset him when he had to part from good company. “And thank you for not eating us!” Harry added.

The Beeble smiled and assisted his new friends with their bags, and when everyone was safely aboard the wok, he picked it up in one hand and carried it over the hills to the banks of the loch. There, he lowered it gently down onto the water and with a light shove, and a sad farewell, he sent the travellers on their way.