Gihzig-ikwe’s face was bright when he awoke the next morning.His fears from the night before vanished with the light. He had new resolve. A good dream would come to him in this place he could feel it. As he stared at the white face of Father Sun his first thought was of Miinan. He saw her face turned to the sky. He saw her soft lips parted in greeting to the day. In his heart he heard her singing her morning songs as she did her work. He did not see what was around him. The hawk that watched him from the pine branch did not receive his notice. The rabbit that watched from her hutch went unseen. He had come to this place to enter into solitude and union with Nimaamaa Aki. His distraction, his day dreams kept him from doing so. The whole forest knew he could not receive a dream. If he would have listened, the wind would have told him. The low flight of the hawk shouted warning, but he did not hear. All he saw and heard were the daydreams he had chosen for himself.

Time slowly. His hunger increased and then dulled. He dipped his hand in the bucket of water and pulled the liquid through his dry lips. It did not quench his great thirst, it only hurt his empty stomach. He began to feel a little light headed and sleepy. In order to keep himself awake he wandered around the glade. HDragonflies swooped around him, bees hummed and small crickets jumped. He saw these creatures but he did not feel any connection to them. Each instead served as a reminder of a time he had either spent with Miinan or watched her unobserved. From the shelter of a pine, he had seen her scoop honey out of a great dead birch with her noko. It had dripped down her beautiful chin and he had wanted to taste it. One evening he had seen her kneeling beside the wildflowers, absorbed by the song of crickets. How she loved the song of the crickets. Once he told her that, Dragonflies were almost feathered creatures. She longed for sweetness, song and freedom. He hoped to give her all those things.

When darkness began to fall again, his fear and self-loathing returned. His courage seemed tied to the light and without it, he felt lost. Gihizig-ikwe’s put on her nighttime face. The stars began to appear. At least there were stars tonight to keep him company. Up among the stars were the spirits, spirits that Ajijaak needed to make contact with. He went to his shelter and lay down on the fragrant cedar boughs. He watched the stars move across the surface of the night sky. He dropped into a misty world where nothing was distinct.

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The next morning he felt weak and dull. A strange buzz sounded was in his head. He did not want to walk around the glade. He lay still, and only moved to drink a little water. The strength of his body carried him. A day of fasting did not slow him down. He decided to work on another dance for Miinan. All day he thought about her smile, her warmth and the unexpected embrace they had shared a few nights ago.

By nightfall he was tired, and satisfied with the dance he had created. He could not wait to share it with Miinan. That night he fell asleep happy. He was sure his dream would come that night.

On the third day he awoke without a dream. The lack of food and adequate liquid began to take their toll on him. He had no will to dance or day dream. He was worried. He only had two more nights to dream. What if it never came?

For the first time he lost complete confidence in himself even in the light of day. By nightfall, he felt ill and certain of his own failure. All the old voices taunted him. Beyond his memories, came other voices that said, “You are arrogant, just like your father. You do not deserve a dream or a destiny. You will wander through your life alone and desolate.” With all his mental strength he tried to fight these voices, but they were stronger than his will. That night he slipped in and out of consciousness. Indistinct images darted across his feverish mind, but they were unclear and held no meaning.

On the fourth day, he awoke again without a dream. Inner darkness covered him. He knew he would not dream. He knew he had failed. The next day his uncle returned. Ajijaak sat propped up in the shelter. His eyes were glazed over and his body stiff. He had not slept and he had not dreamed.

Uncle Ogaa gave him a pouch that contained dried meat and corn. Hungrily Ajijaak ate. The meat was sweetened with maple sugar and the corn was crunchy. He drank long and deep from the fresh water his uncle had brought him. His hunger left him and he was full. Uncle Ogaa did not ask him if he had dreamed, no one ever asked that question. It was up to him to say, “I think I had a dream.” He could not speak, so he was spared the embarrassment of saying out loud he had failed to have a vision. It was the first time in his life his silence served him. Though heart broken and ashamed, he held his head high and walked behind his uncle to the canoe.

Too soon they neared the village. Hiding along the bank, waiting for his return was Ziibi. She ducked out of sight, the instant he saw her.