The Coin Collector's Dream

The coin collector was sitting like a log poised over a sofa, staring at the mahogany door which swung as the cold air from outside thrust into it. His almost drawn-out eyes never blinked. He had been in that state for quite some time until his back gave in. He slumped slowly, minute by minute. His head sagged and little by little his body dropped into the cushions of the sofa chair. The mere stupefaction had impaired him. His eyes shut at last. He didn’t close the door. Or perhaps he had been unaware of it. He even forgot what he was thinking. He lazily and inattentively hung his legs on the sofa chair, rolled over, and lay like a child in a womb. At dawn, he fell asleep and saw blackness.

The coin collector opened his eyes. He sniffed at the smell of fresh grass. He turned his head aside and saw the uncomfortably bright morning sun, partly blocked by a cirrus cloud, set thirty degrees above the horizon. He heard none but the whisper of a gentle breeze. He felt the roughness of grasses had touched his face. He pushed his hands up and sat. He looked at the horizon. He ran his eyes over the vast ocean. It was empty of islands, sails, and vessels. He looked around. Behind him, he saw a turf that extended a hundred yards to a river. Across the river was a forest. He deduced that his position was above a headland.

He stood up, his knees shaking. His head hurt, probably because he lacked sleep. He took steps forward in the ocean's direction. More steps until he wound up at the edge of the headland. He looked down at the shore. The waves danced rhythmically to its hush. There was nothing on the shore but pebbled sand where few starfishes and clams dispersed on it. He turned to his right. A mile away from him was a square structure barely seen. He pried the view through his naked eyes, while slowly taking steps towards it. He walked laboriously, dragging his feet on the dusty ground.

As the structure came clearly into his view, he learned it was an open gate constructed from three logs with an equal length of six yards. The two logs served as the pillars while the other on top acted as the lintel. He gave a going over the place but found nothing with life. He moved further to the gate and stopped before he could step across it.

He wanted to pass through it while thinking about who had built such a thing. As he tried to take a step across the gate, someone got his attention.

“It’s not yet time.” It was a familiar, deep voice.

He turned to where the voice had come from. Several steps off of him was the winged man in his tanned robe with his mighty sword buckled around his waist. The winged man floated in the air, a foot off the ground. His white wings with golden brims were lightly flapping, enabling him to maintain his posture in the air. He was looking, a little scornful, at the coin collector who was now agape. He glided to him and halted a few feet away.

The coin collector didn’t move, but he stammered a statement. “You left me last night.”

“This is the only way I can talk to you with enough time without concealing my identity,” said the winged man.

“What do you mean? Where am I? What’s this place?” he said rapidly.

“You’re always in a hurry.” The winged man touched his bare feet on the ground. He crooked his wonderful wings in and they submerged into his back. He walked to the side of the coin collector. “Don’t step into the other side of this gate,” he said as he pointed at the gate.

The coin collector was looking up at him. The winged man was taller than him.

“Across the gate is just a ground extension of this ground where we stand. But it’s just your illusion.” He moved closer to the gate and lifted his right foot to the other side of the gate. The part of his foot on the other side vanished in the air. “You see?”

The coin collector was shocked.

The winged man put his foot back to the ground. He turned back to him, now facing the ocean, and looked distantly. “What you see, my friend, is all an illusion. They don’t actually exist. The ocean, the sky, the sun, the ground, the river and the forest, everything around us, but…” he paused and pointed his head to the gate, “this gate.” Then he turned and looked straight into his eyes, as if waiting for his reaction.

The coin collector’s eyes were surging out. “What is this place?”

“This is the place that leads to the Deepest Deeps. This gate is its entrance. Behind this gate, you will see nothing but darkness.”

“Why am I here?” the coin collector said inquisitively. He drew back from the border of the gate, gaining several paces off the winged man.

“I show you the way into the Deepest Deeps, so that in the near time when you are to surrender the silver coin to me, you will enter this gate with me and throw the silver coin into the meadows of blackness.”

He sneered. “Why don’t you do it yourself? You have the power to find this coin and you know this place better than me.”

“Look, my friend, I’ve chosen you because you know a lot of things about coins on Earth. It is your interest, right?” He flashed his eyes at him. “And there are three valid reasons you will do it for me.”

“What reasons?” It was a forceful tone that seemed to resist the winged man’s statement.

“First and foremost, you’ve already learned about my existence, my identity, of which no human being alive has ever and actually learned about. Second, I can’t stay longer than ten minutes divulging my true identity on Earth. I am deprived to stay with wings for more than the time given to me by the Head Protector. This means I need to disguise myself as a human. But that condition is quite unfavorable to me because when I’m a human I’m also deprived of the power I have is a Protector.” He let out a shallow breath.

“What about the third reason?”

“You will learn that reason sooner.”

The coin collector looked dismayed. “What will I do to get the silver coin into my hands?”

“Use your initiative to finding the silver coin. You know the way more than me. I’ve been looking for it for a long time but it seems it won’t show up at me. It has its attitude of hiding from me.”

“How can you be sure I can find it? Will it show up at me?” The coin collector was knitting his eyebrows.

“The silver coin is highly attracted to humans, especially to those greedy for money and who worship material wealth.” It was a candid statement that hit him like a hard punch in his face.

He did not act defensive and did not say a word that would exclude him from the men the Protector was referring to. He knew he was one of them. Or maybe he realized, just at that moment, that he was one of them, which was why this winged man called Protector of the Deepest Deeps chose him for the nearly impossible job. He wanted to turn it down, but he felt he was no way out of it. Now, he thought, was the right time he would use the insistence he had made when he compelled the stranger, who was this Protector, to stay in the house and talk about finding the silver coin the other night. He thus resolved to follow the Protector’s will. Besides, he felt what he would do would repay the misdemeanors he had done before.

“What now?” The coin collector opened his arms in the air.

“Come with me. I’ll show you something.”

They strolled on the rocky ground to the edge of the headland.

“You said all I see is just an illusion. How did it happen when I see and feel them as if they are real?” he mused.

“The surroundings you see are products of your subconscious. Once in your past, you dreamed up to be in a place like this but you’ve forgotten that dream.” The Protector inhaled the air. “Clean air. Serene place. Near the seashore and forest. And absolutely away from the noisy and chaotic city.”

Something came into the coin collector’s memory. He reminisced about the time he had been thinking that dream. There was a snap as he saw in his memory his loved one passed out and was taken away from her. He suddenly came into his mind, shrank from the memory, and said, “You mean everything here is just in my mind?”

“Except me and the gate. The gate exists but not in the way you perceive it now. In reality, it’s just a dark hole in an infinite space.”

“Are you the only one who protects the gate?”

The Protector shook his head.

“Why don’t I see them?”

He did not respond to his query. “Come.” He moved onward and climbed up the highest point of the headland.

The coin collector heeled after him with difficulty. He settled beside the Protector as soon as they arrived at the brink.

“You see that?” The Protector pointed at something in the seashore. It was a mile away from them. It was a cottage over the huge flat rock. It had a porch facing the ocean. And someone was in there. A woman sitting on the porch.

The coin collector’s heart pounded heavily when he saw the woman. He didn’t recognize her at once, but deep inside he felt he knew her. Something in his throat choked him, and he let out droplets of tears in his eyes. Without reluctance, he set out climbing down the headland.

“Remember,” cried the Protector, “it’s just your subconscious that created her.”

He didn’t hear him. He ran down the slope into the seashore, his feet plowing the pebbled sand. He stumbled down, but he struggled to get up. He raced along the seashore and stopped in front of the eight-step bamboo stairs rising to the porch. He fell to his knees while chasing his breath. He gasped hard enough, producing a whistling sound.

“Myla!” He stood up and ascended the steps. He tumbled in front of a woman sitting in the rocking chair, sewing a kerchief.

She didn’t react from the man crawling on the floor to her feet. As if no one was around but only her. She didn’t see him, didn’t feel him.

“Myla!” he shouted. He cuddled her tightly with all his strength, all his longing for her, all his love for her. But he felt cold in his wrapped arms. Myla was insensible and went on sewing. “Myla! I miss you so much.” She was totally numb to him. He let her go and shook her lightly. “Myla! What happened to you, darling?” His tears flooded his face. Myla did not respond. Eventually, her skin transformed into the sand, starting from her feet all the way to her neck, and finally to her head. Awed with worry and fear, he witnessed Myla’s eyes and cheeks collapsed in her skull, which became particles of sand that sprang from his arms. What was left of her were her red-rose-designed duster and a tangerine butterfly hairpin that had fallen to the cradle of the chair.

He howled in despair and fell to his knees. Tears barring his sight had drowned his face. He dropped his hands to the cradle and felt the butterfly hairpin. He shut his eyes, crushed the hairpin in his fist, and bit his teeth so hard they almost crunched.

A smooth palm gently touched his shoulder. “It’s enough, my friend,” said the Protector.

He rubbed his eyes with his forearms. As he opened them, pitch-black surroundings startled him. Darkness environed him. He looked down at the blackness. He learned he was kneeling, but not dropping, in a horrible place. He turned his head to look for the Protector. “Where am I?” he said.

“This is the actual place that leads to the Deepest Deeps.” He pointed at something. “That’s the entrance to the Deepest Deeps.”

“I see nothing.” He stood up as if below his feet was a black, flat solid matter that gave him the stance. He flashed his eyes to see what the Protector was pointing. Then, he spotted a ring of fire, which central part was darker than the void out of it. The view seemed a total solar eclipse to him.

“Sooner we shall go inside.” The Protector spread his white wings. It flapped once, with the sound of a clap.

Something crawled in the coin collector’s spine when he thought of going into the Deepest Deeps. He said, “What will I benefit from it if I get the silver coin for you?”

“You will help your world, that’s the greatest benefit.” The Protector flew around the coin collector. “I know what you desire, my friend. I can give it to you. Just bring me the silver coin.”

Hope hit him. It engulfed him. And the motive to start the job built up in him. This time it was not material wealth that he yearns for. He had made a mistake before, now he would not do the same fault. He yearned for Myla. He always hoped that someday they would be together. But how could he take her back into his arms? He knew that what he’d been longing for was quite impossible, for Myla had been dead as he’d known it.

“Alright, I will find the coin,” he said confidently.

The Protector smiled at him. He thumbed his forehead. It was a blessing for his incoming venture. In two seconds, he flew away from him. His white wings were the only visible part of him. He was like a firefly in the night. He dived into the entrance of the Deepest Deeps. Darkness swallowed him up and the blackness of the central void gradually erased his wings, and he was totally unseen.

The coin collector was left alone again, afraid like a child crumpling for fear in the corner of a dark room.

He fell into nothingness. It was a free fall. He screamed while in his mind, a thought of where he would land dead. But there was no solid thing that would catch him or receive the impact that his body would make. He let out a scream, almost cutting his throat, and then suddenly…

He woke and abruptly sat up, panting. He could hear the beat of his weary heart. Stream of sweat flowed down his face to his neck. His eyes, looking through the door to the morning light outside, were full of astonishment at the vivid things he had seen. He felt something in his fist. He spread his fingers away. He couldn’t believe what he saw resting on his palm. It was the tangerine butterfly hairpin. Was he actually in that place called the Deepest Deeps? Did he really meet the Protector and his dearest Myla? He knew nothing about dreams, but he was so sure he had seen them as clear as what he was seeing now: the hairpin. How the hairpin got there utterly amazed him.

He then settled everything in his mind. He concluded his dream to be real, that it had occurred. Indeed, he decided to pursue the search for the silver coin. And the only potent reason he would do it was the hairpin in his hand.