Not even Ham knew for certain what it was that he “got”. As he’d been standing in that lost ray of gentle sunlight, Ham had connected his dream to his circumstances. He found himself believing in something new, for a Huddler. That new thing was the word “Lightbringer.”
As Ham drank in that small draught of sunlight, that word had sprung to mind and Ham believed that he knew – to a certainty – what his dream meant. He couldn’t quite put it into words, but he knew – as he knew his name and he knew he lived in Dank and he knew his father’s name was Horace and his mother’s name was Hannah – he knew that the man in his vision was real, and that he had to find him to learn what it all meant.
In that moment, Ham began planning for a journey to find the man in his vision.
This is such an exceptional thing, that it bears pondering and patting and playing with. No one in Dusk, no one in the entire land of Dank, as far as Ham knew, had ever gone on a quest. No one had ever talked about having a vision, in fact, much less going on a quest because of a vision. And there was Ham, mentally preparing to go on a quest to seek a man who might or might not exist.
Having no one to whom he could turn for help or guidance, Ham began to do something that had never before been done.
First, Ham had to think about what it meant to go on a quest. Since he didn’t own a horse (not many folks in Dank did), Ham pictured himself walking. Since no one he knew had ever walked out of Dusk, the image in his head got very hazy after leaving the immediate surroundings of the village. Mostly, he just saw himself, as though looking down from above, trudging along a narrow strip of dirty, dusty ground.
Ham continued on his way that day. As he went from place to place, he thought more about his journey.
“I’ll need water,” he thought. “How will I carry water with me?” He looked around the village of Dank, with the idea of carrying water in his head. Each container, sack, cup, or bottle he saw he considered as a vessel for carrying water. The day after that errant ray of light changed his life forever, Ham found what he needed in his own home. For all of his life, his family had kept their supply of water for drinking and cooking in a tube-shaped bag with a large opening at one end where they could pour in water from a bucket at the well, and a stoppered opening at the other end where they could let water out when they needed it. He saw, by looking carefully at that tube-shaped bag, that he could attach a piece of rope and sling the bag over his shoulder and carry it with him. Of course, if he did that, his family would no longer have a way to keep their water in their home.
And at that moment, Ham stepped from thinking the unthought to doing the undone. He set out to make another water bag just like the one in his home. He found the materials, sought out the water bag maker, learned out how to put the materials together, and made his own water bag for traveling.
As he went through this process, the other Huddlers of Dusk began to take notice. After all, Ham was not a water bag maker. Chicken pluckers plucked chickens, well diggers dug wells, farmers farmed, and water bag makers made water bags. Ham was not a water bag maker, and yet he was making a water bag!
Even the dull and discouraged Huddlers of Dusk were stirred by this change, even so small a change. One – Hyram, the Mayor of Dusk, as it happens – went so far as to have a conversation with Ham about it.
“What are you doing, Ham?”
“Hullo, Hyram. I’m making a water bag.”
“But you’re not a water bag maker, Ham.”
“Hmm – yes, you’re right, Hyram. But I needed a water bag, and we don’t have any extras in Dank, and Herman the water bag maker only makes new ones when one wears out.”
This was a long soliloquy for a Huddler!
Hyram thought about this for a while. It was like a bit of gristle that – no matter how long and hard he chewed – just wouldn’t get soft enough or small enough to swallow. So Hyram just spit out the whole idea, and went back to life as usual.
Almost.
Because somewhere in Hyram’s Huddler head, the idea of making and learning something new had settled like dandelion fluff and was there for the long haul.
