I began dreaming of an experience I had more than thirty years ago. I never forgot what happened, but when I recall memories, they were ephemeral, like grasping smoke, and I would quickly forget again. However, since the dreams began, my memories of the experience are becoming more concrete. I want to further solidify the experience for myself and see, on the off-hand chance, if anyone else has information that could assist me in resolving these events.
This occurred at Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, California, in the summer of 1986. My family had access to a vacation cabin there. We stayed a week. But none of that really matters concerning the experience…as far as I remember.
I was swimming in Big Bear Lake. I remember the lake was busy. Tiny islands, rocky outcroppings, and hidden coves dot Big Bear Lake. I liked adventuring and swimming alone, so I headed to the out-of-way outcroppings. In 1986, I was hyper-fixated on dinosaurs. I regularly imagined slipping back into time through a portal made by an advanced prehistoric culture to see them or trekking down a hidden cave and discovering a secret location in the present day where a dinosaur or dinosaurs still lived. With wild rock formations jutting out of its pristine water and craggy cavern mazes, Big Bear Lake provided a spectacular backdrop for 10-year-old me to project his fantasies on.
I soon found a place far away from the masses, tucked behind boulders and pine trees. I believed I was alone and began searching for evidence of a Plesiosaur or Brontosaurus, which might serve as the basis for a lake monster waiting to be uncovered. But I was not alone, and as far as monsters, the monsters lurking in Big Bear Lake that day were decidedly of the modern world.
While I was exploring, I came across an odd sight. A man and woman, both adults, with a boy about my age, standing in the water. They were not playing. They were not relaxing or reveling but standing. Standing still, almost too still. The atmosphere around them was eerie. I was brought up in the LDS or Mormon Church, and I had been and seen others be baptized. For a moment, I thought I stumbled onto this boy’s baptism. However, the circumstance suggested the existence of elements I was not accustomed to.
Like me, the boy was Caucasian. The man and woman were oriental. The woman stands out the most. I remember her as uncomfortably flawless. In a sinister way, maybe even perfect. Long inky black hair, a thin, sleek body of glowing alabaster skin, clad in a skimpy crimson bikini. Her beauty was dangerous, unnatural, and otherworldly. A sweet but poisonous miasma persists around her in my memory. Thinking of her just now, I conjured the image of an onyx black widow spider with an hourglass made from ruby. I then experienced a sudden sharp pain behind my forehead, followed by a ferocious burning sensation.
Besides being present and of Asian descent, I cannot register the man’s features. Outshined by the woman, he might forever be relegated to her shadow. He remains faceless. However, as my dreams of this have started recently, I can get a vague sense of the boy’s face. His eyes have a vacancy, as if in a trance or stupor.
With a dragonfly’s grace and predatory trajectory, her gaze floated above the water to meet mine. Her presence was overwhelming, and I was instantly, irrevocably captivated by her.
“Lucky for you, little horse, today we need a dragon,” she told me. The man tossed coins onto a metal tray or plate. I remember liking the sound it made. The man and the woman looked intently at the tray and discussed between themselves before she beckoned me closer.
“You were marked with difficult beginnings at your birth. Your fruit is still not ripe. I, too, was born marked with bad fortune, but I have learned to correct it,” the woman said, placing her hand on my cheek. Looking at the boy, the woman told me, “He was born with great fortune. Money will rain down on him his whole life. For him, luxury will be commonplace.” I heard the sound of coins dropping on the mental tray again.
“It is auspicious and a favorable sign that you are here, little horse. You should stay and share with us.” The man next produced what I know now is a Bagua or Feng Shui compass. He consulted it before motioning to a specific spot. Taking me by the hand, she guided me to where I would stand. “Remain still, but be happy, for today, we again improve our fortunes,” she tells me.
I see her feeding the boy different colored paper money. As he chews, the man and woman begin sticking paper notes with red and black calligraphy on his body. His forehead, upper and lower back, chest, and stomach. Next, a bright red blanket or large cloth was draped over his head and body, floating in the water around his waist level. She and the man began speaking incantations as they made fast hand signs and traced symbols around and over the boy with their fingers, making abrupt thrusting gestures toward him.
The woman wraps her arms around his body like a belt and secures her hands. The man places his hands on the boy’s covered head, and together they submerge him underwater. It is complicated to say how I felt about watching this. I realized that they intended to drown him. Still, her charm was so disarming and reassuring that my concerns, even for myself, were nearly instantly tranquilized.
A struggle and splashing occur. I can see the man and woman bear down a little more to keep the boy underwater, and very quickly, the water becomes calm again. I am standing on the shore of the small nearby island. I have no memory of getting out of the water. “He is still drowning, little horse,” the woman tells me. She is holding the red cloth, wringing it closed with both hands. “First, it was the water because he needed air, but now it’s the air because he needs the water.” I can see that something is undulating within the makeshift sack she is clutching.
She gestures to me, come and see. As if still in a hazy dream, I step forward. Peeking inside, I see a large golden carp struggling to breathe. “The first time we caught a dragon, he was able to swim away. But never again,” she smiled. Looking deep into my eyes, she says. “I will let you have a taste.” The man brings the tip of a fillet knife to the gill of the gold carp and sharply inserts it.
The world goes black.
I awoke on the beach with a start. I am alone. Blood and footprints are in the sand, leading back into the water. I don’t remember how long I lay there on the shore. There was no indication I had been gone very long. Upon rejoining my family, neither my mom nor dad ever said a word. However, my mom noticed something wasn’t right. Throughout the rest of our trip, she repeatedly asked if I was okay until I uncharacteristically threatened her to stop. Snapping and lunging at her. I scared my mom, causing her to cry. It was one of the first times I consciously realized that I wasn’t “me” in how I reacted. It was…something else.
My mom wasn’t wrong to be concerned. The dread and uncertainty that clung to me took the sparkle out of Big Bear Lake, and honestly, it never came back. I wonder if I were to return to Big Bear Lake, now, no longer a “little horse,” if I would be so easily corralled by exotic beauty. I would be curious to learn how particular fortunes have fared over the past three decades.
