My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
10
It
was difficult to fall asleep as I kept mulling over the day’s events (and the
lack of any remaining cookies from Chip’s care package. As I drifted off my
nostrils were not sniffing the delightful aroma of baked goods, but the scent
of wet clothes and various body odors ranging from sweat, after shave, and
perfume. It wasn’t a pleasant 1combination. Then I saw the crowds on the steps
of the capitol building waiting their turn to go in. There were police
everywhere, and near the front, the kind of ropes to keep the humanity in line,
much like the ropes used at theme parks to organize as many as possible in
limited space.
The
rain didn’t cause a single solitary person from leaving the line. Whatever was
going on was important to them,
Suddenly
as in the way of dreams, but not really realizing it was a dream, I was inside
where even more souls filled the lobby, moving slowly toward what I knew was
the great rotunda.
At
first I only had some curiosity. Then I heard the muffled sob and saw tears,
even rolling down the cheeks of some dour old men I recognized as members of
congress and the house of representative. Ambassadors from friendly and even
not so friendly nations shared the same grief.
Something
gripped my heart and I was suddenly in the rotunda. Who could be the honored
dead in the flag draped coffin? Who had earned the honor guard? Flowers,
flowers everywhere...something glinted from the top of the flag, in the blue
field of stars. Maybe it was only an illusion.
But then I saw the rings. A simple gold signet ring, a silver Celtic
design ring, a plain gold band, and a black onyx stone in the center of a gold
ring.
“No!
No! No!” I yelled, trying to remove the flag over the top portion of the
casket. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t, my
heart told me as I tried to open the lid.
“Come
along, sir,” one of the Navy honor guards took hold of me, a cop helping him to
pull me away before I could complete my task.
“Harriman?”
Mrs. Crane, all in black asked gently, “there’s a quiet place we can go....”
“It’s
not him, is it?” I gulped, hoping, praying that my fears were unfounded.
Then
I saw the crew of Seaview, all in their dress uniforms, all wearing the same
black armbands of most all of the men in the rotunda.
Mrs.
Crane simply shook her head in the affirmative, and continued to pull me away.
“Admiral?”
somebody called out. “Admiral?”
“Call
Doc,” another voice said. “Admiral?” it added, while strong arms tried to pull
me up.
“Good
God,” another voice added.
Only
I recognized this one. “Chip? Chip?” I wailed from the cold floor of the
rotunda.
“Easy
sir, wake up,” he said. “You’re having a dream...wake up. Doc?”
“This
will help,” Will’s voice said and I felt a sharp prick in my arm.
“Lee,
Lee, Lee, oh gawd, Lee,” I howled, breaking away from Mrs. Crane and her
helpers. I was about to get the coffin’s lid open when suddenly a face formed
in front of my eyes...a blurry face, and my head hurt like hell.
“Admiral?”
Chip asked and came into better view.
“Chi...Chip?”
I asked confused, “make sure for me...make sure..”
“Admiral,”
Will said, “snap out of it...”
“Huh?”
“That’s
it. Open your eyes wider,” he added, dabbing my tears away.
Then
I saw that I was not on the rotunda floor, but in my bunk aboard Seaview, as
Sharkey, Ski, Will, and Chip looked at me with deep concern.
“Name,”
Will demanded as he took my pulse.
“What
the..”
“Your
name,” Chip added in his most captainy voice.
“Harriman
Nelson....must have been a dream...”’
“Nightmare
more like,” Sharkey said. “Ski heard you, then entered seeing you tossing and
turning and yelling and crying then alerted us. Took you a while to come out of
it.”
“Oh
gawd,” I said wearily. “It was so...vivid...”
“You’ll
be awake for awhile,” Will said. “want
to talk about it?”
“Just
a dream,” I said defensively, “intense but that’s all it was. Sorry I disturbed everyone...I
think I’ll go get some coffee.”
“Good
idea,” Will said. “I’ll have some too. The rest of you get back to bed.”
“Coffee
sure sounds good to me,” Ski said.
“No,
Ski,” Chip said. “You have a busy day tomorrow. We don’t want any coffee to
keep you up.”
“Aye,
sir, Good night sirs. Glad you’re feeling better, Admiral.”
With
that he departed as Chip helped me on with my robe and slippers. In minutes we
were headed to the Wardroom. I would have rather gone to sit on the front porch
where I could be alone with the sheer relief that Lee’s death was only a dream.
Disturbing or not, I’m not a believer in premonitions. Really, I’m not.
~***~