Sea of Grey pt 1.

I came to my senses in a world of grey. Before my eyes was a dimly lit, swirling, formless space. A fear settled in my stomach, was this nothingness? Where was I? I couldn't quite remember. A memory of being unable to breathe floated up, then descended again as I tried to remember why. I realized I was lying on my back and was staring at the sky.

My hands searched around me trying to find something familiar. They rubbed across a polished surface, wood worn smooth by many years of use. The sound of water filled my ears and I could feel a gentle rocking beneath me. The strong smell of salt and iodine filled my nose. I sat up and looked around, willing the impressions of my eyes, hands, ears and nose to make sense. 

I looked down at myself and was surprised to find I was wearing simple flannel pajamas with green pinstripes. I didn't think that was normal, but couldn't be sure. I stood up slowly on unsteady legs and in front of me, out of the grey, resolved a triangular wall of dark blue. It was a sail, my memory told me. "A boat." A voice said out of the silence. I started for a moment before I realized the voice was mine. 

I was on a boat, and an old one at that. An image of dark skinned traders sailing up and down hot sultry coasts came to mind. "A dhow" the voice said. My voice said. Was this important? I just didn't know.

I looked out from the dhow to the water that surrounded it. The formless grey surrounded me on all sides. Mist, my brain told me. It wasn't nothingness; it was water droplets suspended in air. It was a real thing. The fear in the pit of my belly lessened, but did not subside. I was on an old boat in the middle of a misty sea. What had happened to get me here?

A cool moist breeze picked up and I thought I could hear a voice. Or was two? A man and a woman whispering. "Hello?" I shouted. The loudness hurt my throat. The voices seemed to turn towards me but then they faded away, the mist swallowing up the sound. I wanted to shout again, but the silence of the grey swirling fog made it seem better to remain mute.

The breeze blew again and the dhow began to move on its own, the sail and rigging acting as is manipulated by masterful, yet unseen hands. Where was I being taken? Why was this happening? I had no answers and hoped that perhaps the dhow would take me to some.

Minutes passed, or was it hours? Days even? The light in this place never seemed to change and the endless mist stole away any true indication of time. I caught glimpses of dark shapes moving beyond the dull silver curtain that surrounded my small ship. An oppressive silence pervaded everything. I began to drift to sleep, lulled by the quiet sound of water against the hull.

Panic seized me. NO! I shouted. I must not fall asleep, I told myself. Why? More questions, still no answers. More time passed.

The grinding sound of sand against the prow of my dhow startled me to attention. Had I been asleep? No, daydreaming, but of what? A woman and a beautiful one at that, or so I thought. But the memory slipped away and I could no longer see her.

The dhow had come to rest on a beach of the blackest sand. Where was this place, was it an island, or maybe the mainland? I decided to stop asking questions and to seek answers. Not finding any shoes to go with my pajamas I shrugged and leapt onto the dark shore.

Taking in my surroundings I was stymied by that blasted gloom. I could only see a limited distance and what I could see was dark and hazy. One thing did stand out, however, a small red house. Curious and pushing any fear aside, I approached it.

The roof slats were rust colored and the door was tinted a deep rose. Its wooden walls were a faded and chipped crimson. All these adjectives popped in my mind as I stood before the house. It stirred within me a memory of a boy and his father playing a game. It was their favorite game; they played it at least twice a week. Was I the boy, or was I the father? I had a feeling it was both. From within the house a voice called out to me and the front door opened. "Hello there, John! I've been expecting you."

I had a name.

In the doorway stood an older man of about 60 years of age, with a white, full and neatly trimmed beard. "Dad?" I asked, bewildered by both the sudden memory and seeing him in this place. "Why… how…?" "I know you have many questions, a torrent of them really, but I haven't much time."

He invited me into what turned out to be a cozy cottage on the inside. A small fire burned beneath a tin coffee pot which was starting to boil. The smell of dried sage and lavender hung in the air. "Tea?" my father asked. He then gestured for me to sit in a comfortable and obviously well used easy chair.

He handed me a worn and familiar mug with a bag of black tea in it, then poured in the hot water from the tin coffee pot. "Drink up, and save your questions, I have some things to say." he said. I nodded my head, took a sip and he began. "A journey of remembrance must start some place. Yours has begun here, in memory of warmth and happiness. Do you remember this place?' I shook my head. Then nodded slowly as the tea sank to my belly and a glowing recollection rose up. "This was our summer cottage, on the cape." my father prodded. I remembered.

"Good, it's starting to come back to you. Well you are on a journey, my son. Something has taken your life from you." "Am I dead?" I asked, not really wanting an answer. My father shook his head. "No. But that may change if you do not finish here. This place, this memory, is your starting point. You have trials ahead, and some demons to conquer, but hold on to your happy memories as you encounter them and never let them go."

"What do I do now, dad? Why a dhow? Why am I in pajamas?" "I can't answer those questions, son. You must discover them for yourself if you wish to return your memories. To your home and…" "And what dad?"

The house faded around us, leaving us standing in the obsidian sand, surrounded by the fog. The fear began anew in my stomach, cooling the warm tea. "I love you, son." Then he faded as well, leaving me alone and even more confused.

"Dad!" I shouted. But I knew it was no use. The grey mist seemed to move in on me, driving me back towards the dhow. "I remember being happy." I whispered to no one. Then I turned and got back into the boat.

I settled on a bench and said "let's get this journey going." A wave surged under the ship and drew it out to the sea. The sail and ropes again acted under invisible hands and the little dhow sailed into the fog, the black sand disappeared into the cloudy mist.