The inconvenience of being dead.

The warm sunlight came dancing in betwixt the shadows of my open window, as a gentle wind ruffled the curtains. Wind wrapped itself in gossamer tiny bursts and hurried to eagerly kiss my cheeks, urging me to awaken-ness. Birds twittered giddily, bringing the promise of a new day whispering upon the sunbeams.

Ah! What a lovely morning in which to begin a marvelous day.

I had fallen asleep with the lyrics of Bob Marley's song echoing me to slumber. Now awake, it was somehow still being replayed in my subconscious.

"There's a natural mystic flowing through the air, if you listen carefully now, you will hear. Such a natural mystic".

This was quite Karmic, since the dream I had last night was still imprinted upon my partially awakened psyche. I arose from my past night's reverie and stepped outside into the hallway to glance up at the pictures of my ancestors staring directly at me from the wall, especially that of my great uncle Marvin. Apparently, he had disappeared some fifty-odd years ago, everyone thought he had run off with Sally, the wild young daughter of his neighbor who had packed her bags, left a note and proceeded to run away.

In my dream, great uncle had asked me to go to the woods adjoining the property line and seek out a particular tree. The image had been so vivid that it had woken me up instantly, but seeing it was just a dream, I went right back to sleep. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, so I showered, dressed, ate breakfast and proceeded to a quick visit to the woods.

I looked around a bit skeptically, hoping no ghouls or human evil were lurking nearby. The dream had been so clear, and I knew the woods well, having walked there for the past months. I made my way directly to the spot where I had been asked to go.

The sight which greeted me prompted me to almost fall over faint in fear and distress, as I clutched my heart and stared at the specter in front of me.

I could see a man's hand emerging in still life form from the trunk of the tree. The bark had rotted away around the hand, and it was now quite visible. Strange that I had not noticed that before on my many treks through the woods.

Below that unholy image were other likenesses of human hands and feet. I had the presence of mind to snap a few pictures before I fled the scene.

Alarmed and terrified, I ran back to the house and called the police. I had no idea what this all meant. The house in which I now lived had been passed on to me by inheritance. It had been bought by Marvin and passed down by birthright. My residence here had been but three months, and I had not yet decided whether or not to sell it. With four large bedrooms and a great deal of space, I was not sure that I could take on that much responsibility. At thirty-four years old, single and with no plans for changing my status, this was an unexpected turn of events.

The authorities were just as baffled as I was. They looked at me rather quizzically when I said that I had dreamed of the tree. Cordoning off the area, and keeping everyone at bay, their forensic team found evidence of human DNA in the tree growth. They then proceeded to dig up the entire area around the tree, then carefully excavated the entire thing.

Lying beneath the base of the tree were the bodies of a male and female. The tests eventually proved them to be Marvin and Sally, the young next door neighbor. Well, that ruled me out, I had not even been born when they disappeared. Now, other people had lived in the house before me, so why on earth had Marvin waited to show me where he had been very obviously murdered and buried, you may ask? I too wanted answers to that question.

Marvin had been almost sixty when he died, so I figured my chances of finding anyone who knew him still alive were pretty slim. My best chances were to go through the mountain of paperwork in both the attic and basement. The police were just as baffled, so they sent over two officers to assist me with the papers, I invited my friend Dyann to spend some time assisting me as well, things had gotten a bit too creepy and eerie for comfort.

We searched for three days, going through boxes, trunks, books and shelves of memorabilia, nothing of interest turned up. There were some letters from acquaintances, some which the cops took as potential evidence, some I secreted away in my pocket. One particular letter, written to someone, but never posted, told of a secret compartment in the attic. After the cops had finally left, we hurried to the attic. What we found told a most interesting, intriguing and dangerous story. Marvin had chronicled his unholy escapades in a strange book, the writing worthy of a witching grimoire.

Many years ago

Marvin had two partners in his business, Silas and Benet. Benet had been cruel and selfish, he drank, gambled and never cared that he was slowly and callously driving them into horrible debt and bankruptcy. They operated a very profitable antiques establishment which apparently had a dark underbelly to it. They were importing and exporting illegal works, which meant that they had to travel a lot.

On one such trip to China to purchase Ming vases, Silas was left in charge of things while Marvin and Benet flew to their destination. Marvin, seeing the chance to get rid of Benet, stole a set of rare and extremely expensive miniature vases, framed Benet and smuggled the vases out of the country. Poor Benet was left to rot in a Chinese prison. He had known nothing about what Marvin had done, yet Marvin pretended to offer every evidence of Benet's innocence to the Chinese officials, he even cried as they took his friend away. But Benet had his suspicions, although no one would listen to him.

Twenty years passed with no sign of the vases. Benet escaped from prison and found his way back home to New York. By then, Marvin and Silas had moved their business to Manhattan, sold it for a great deal of money and now lived a separate, prosperous and leisurely lifestyle.

A letter from Silas, found in the compartment, informed Marvin that Benet was back and asking after him.

That was when Marvin had purchased this house in Long Island, far away from the prying eyes of a very angry Benet. He loved the quiet and especially the vast expanse of forested area next to the house, he went there a lot to walk and enjoy nature.

Ten years from the last entry, Marvin and the unfortunate Sally had disappeared.

That night, I again dreamed of a tree, this time it was a small stump with gnarled twisted fingers rising from a petrified body. I awoke in a cold sweat.

The cops were called, this time it was Benet who was growing out of this tree. They used DNA from China to identify his bones.

Silas, you old devil. It was you whodunit after all.

He had lived in this house until he died. He probably searched for the vases, but correspondence with Marvin suggested that he never knew where Marvin hid them. Silas had squandered his money, according to the letters, and had gone practically broke.

I imagine poor Sally had been 'wrong place, wrong time', kind of an unfortunate situation. Yet why were her packed bags missing. I guess we will never know.

The final dream

"Kathlene, Kathlene wake up"! Dyann was shaking me awake. I had been screaming in my sleep.

"What on earth are you dreaming about this time"? She asked.

"God, these trees. What is it with Marvin and these bloody trees"?

This time though, I had been in the dug out insides of the tree trunks, beautiful branches were gently enfolding me and carrying me down beneath the roots of the tree.

"Do you think that Marvin is trying to show you the vases"? Dyann asked.

"I think you may be right, this was like a siren song playing in my head. I felt hypnotized and paralyzed, but in a good way".

There was no more sleep, so we got up early, grabbed axes and shovel from the basement and hurried to the woods.

There were the creepy witchy toes growing out of the tree stump. There was no mistaking what Marvin had in mind for me this time.

Dyann and I hacked away at the tree stump for hours. Luckily, we were both on extended vacation from work, we had time on our hands. Finally, after breaking for lunch, we eventually clawed away the tree trunk and gnarled roots. Beneath was a perfectly preserved steel trunk. We wrestled it from its dirt laden home and pried it open with the axe.

We gently and cautiously removed the decaying wrapping from the contents and found the perfect complete set of a half a dozen tiny, beautiful vases. Looking around to see if anyone was observing, and satisfied that we were lucky to be alone, we transported the little trunk back to the house.

We got in touch with the company in China, it was still in operation. Casually we asked about a set of 'Blue and White Porcelain Imperial Vase' lost maybe forty-fifty years ago, and what it was worth today. The silence on the other end was palpable and deafening.

"You hold"! Was returned after a long, confusing and noisy interaction.

"Who are you. You have vase"?

"Maybe, what is the situation for the safe return of the vases"? I asked, fearing the quiet ascending of ninja/ninjutsu warriors to silently end our lives.

More silence. More incoherent jabbering...then....

"Reward of 'Ten Million American dollars', no questions asked". Was the reply.

This time, I was stunned into silence. Maybe, hopefully, no ninjas would appear.

"Done"! I answered, after writing the amount for Dyann to see, and she nodding her head vigorously up and down.

Ninjas flew over to collect them. At least that was how they looked when they arrived at the police station where we agreed to meet.

They authenticated the vases, transferred the money to my account and happily and hurriedly left with their treasure and police escort. The age and importance of the vases rendered their value beyond our imagination.

The dreams ended. The woods are back to normal. I kept the house, I figured Marvin can rest happily there now. I really don't mind living with ghosts. I figured he had sensed a psychic connection between our souls and he had reached out for closure. Now he, Sally and even Benet could have proper burials.

Dyann and I are travelling the world in style.

.....................................................................................

If you have ever read Napoleon Hill's 'Think and Grow Rich', then you know the phrase 'three feet from gold'. Had Silas buried the bodies just a little bit further along, he would have dug up the treasure which he had so desperately sought.