The Tower of Il Serrohe (4 page)

“
Hopefully, I won’t go to sleep.”

six

“
My story is about three curanderas back in the first decade of the 1900s,” the sibilant voice began. “But don’t think of these women only as curanderas, or as traditional Spanish women who use herbs, folk medicine, and prayer to heal people. Think of them as three good women very much in tune with all aspects of nature and the spirit world around them.

“
They were quite psychic, but not of the parlor trick, mind-reading kind. They instinctively
knew
things before they happened though not on a conscious level. They could sense people’s true intentions. They could see the possibilities beyond the times they lived in much like a Biblical prophet, not some type of sorcerer. And they were aware of things which existed on a different plane.

“
But it wasn’t awareness of a higher or even lower spiritual plane, it was another plane of existence. A parallel plane. Another Earth, another realm of existence that had much in common with the one in which the curanderas lived.

“
This awareness of the parallel plane first came in dreams. But when the dreams started including minute detail beyond normal dreams, they began to suspect it was their power tuning them in to another world.

“
Now you must know that these three curanderas lived in this very portion of the Rio Grande Valley. But two of them lived on one plane and the third one lived on the other. Their valleys may have indeed occupied the same physical space, but the time factor and the nature of the planes were different.

“
The plane where Pia and Pita, who were twin sisters, lived had a ‘normal’ base of cause and effect, but it was a world where a bit of magic—unexplained by science and actualized by something other than technology—was real, controllable, and occasionally powerful. Teresa Ramos, the third curandera, lived on this plane where you and I are now restricted by the new human notion of ‘science and logic.’ As a result, the twins were highly esteemed and influential in their world, but our curandera was considered strange by the Anglos and even thought a little strange by a few of her own people.

“
At the turn of the century when Teresa was still only sixteen, she was consulted by many people of this Hispanic Catholic community. It was when she reached her twenty-first birthday she started having the dreams.

“
In these dreams she emerged in the middle of a valley many miles west of her home in Peralta. This valley was much like her home, but the scale seemed larger. The cliffs that mark the edge of the plains to the west were three hundred feet high, rather than a mere one hundred. The mountains to the east were unlike the Manzano Mountains of the Rio Grande Valley appearing to be about forty miles away instead of fifteen, and they were vast, towering high in the sky topped by permanent glaciers, not just a little winter snow.

“
There was a sense of it being an ancient world helped by the fact that the river, unlike the Rio Grande, was deep, over a mile wide, while the entire valley was thickly wooded with giant cottonwoods and willows. The branches of these trees were bare since it appeared and felt like winter in this strange valley while it was summer in Teresa’s own valley.

“
Woven among the trees were numerous channels and ponds fed by distant snowfields or a number of springs in the western cliffs. It was not just a narrow bosque along the river like the valley you know.

“
However, like here, there were desert hills to the west dotted with sagebrush, cedar, and mesquite. And to the east there were immense sand dunes that formed the foothills of the mountains.

“
As the dreams continued, strange people appeared in them; although, it was as if our young curandera was not visible as they would go about their lives without acknowledging her presence. She could see much detail in everything. It was all so foreign to her and yet it was a complete world that followed its own rules independent of her experience and imagination.

“
Time and time again, as Teresa awoke, she would question these dreams. They didn’t seem like the vaguely recalled wanderings of the sleeping mind, but precise memories of an experience. Each night as she prepared for sleep, she would resolve to control the events of her dreams just as she had as a child for dreamtime entertainment. But this world would not respond to her conscious manipulation.

“
Finally, after about a month of this, she—that is, her point of conscious observation which had no physical ‘body’ in that plane—wandered up to the west cliffs where there was a cluster of two dozen or more tan ‘steeples’ resembling tent rocks, formed from volcanic tuff in the Jemez Mountains to the north. Among the steeples, a stream threaded its rugged way from a vast spring and waterfall below the edge of the plains above. Its rapids roared and echoed, slowly eating at the steeples as it finally reached the valley.

“
Fascinated by this stream, Teresa moved, ghostlike, upstream. The spring was beneath a low cliff of solid dark red sandstone that formed a half arc around a large pond with a village of rock huts along its north shore. As she approached the village by skimming over the pond’s surface, she saw a group of five women pounding their wash on the smooth rocks of the shore and filling wooden pails with water.

“
Two of the women, who were obviously twins, looked right up at her. One of them said, ‘Look, a sister curandera coming over the water!’

“
But the other three women could not see her. The two who could looked at her and shrugged, but the one who had spoken winked and said, ‘Any young ladies who came floating over the water, would know enough to follow my sister and me home to talk privately since these other young women are not so perceptive.’

“
Curious by this odd remark, Teresa followed as they carried their heavy pails of water. Once in their hut, she was momentarily distracted by a gentle wave of warmth and the aroma of thousands of herbs, dried flowers, and fruits that hung from the ceiling or were spread over every available surface including several cedar shelves.

“‘
Curanderas!’ she cried in delight. ‘You two are curanderas like me. I am Teresa Ramos from the village of Peralta in the valley. Uh, not quite this valley, but one like it.’ She became flustered.

“
The sister who had done all the talking previously, spoke, ‘No need to explain, we know. My sister is called Pia, and I am Pita. We have had dreams of your valley though we never saw you. It’s like here in Valle Abajo only somehow it feels bigger, and with many more people and villages. This place is also called Piralltah, but its location is different. You do not have the Piralltah Steeples as we do.’

“‘
How do you know I am in a dream?’

“‘
Because the other women did not see you. And, it is most unladylike for a curandera to publicly float about. We guessed immediately you were in a dream since we, too, have been dreaming of your place in such detail we knew it had to somehow be real.’

“‘
Then this is truly another world.’

“‘
More than that, it is another plane maybe in the same place as your own world but a different reality. We have seen that your place thinks of magic as superstition, so how can you serve as a curandera?’

“‘
I heal the sick with herbs and home medicines as you must, but I can only pray to God, I cannot publicly call on spiritual powers that I know I have within. I cannot share my visions. Certainly not this dream—this visitation I am having now. But you are allowed to do more here?’

“‘
We are widely recognized as curanderas, which means we have a special power of healing. Among our clan of the Pirallts, not all are curanderas. We are among the few with that power. It is limited and the only one we possess. Our fellow Pirallts are counselors which require no magical power but rather the skill to listen and to bring one to an awareness of oneself.

“‘
Other clans in the Valle Abajo each have special power of a modest nature. It’s not much, but it suffices.

“
However, among us there are evil ones and we have another name for them: the Soreyes. They are like the people of your valley, but from yet another place to the west who have intruded on our Valle.’

“‘
Are these demons you speak of? The old superstitious people of my village would not be surprised to hear of that, but the younger ones, especially the Anglos, don’t believe much in those things. I have sensed a pure evil that lives in some people’s hearts.’

“‘
You know more of your world than we do, but yes, here they are real, not just a spiritual possession. I think you speak of bad impulses that live within each of us that make us selfish or uncaring. However, here, the Soreyes are like tall living poles among us, who never act cooperatively as do the other clans of the Valle.’

“
Teresa looked suspiciously at Pia and Pita. ‘Why is it that only one of you speaks?’

“‘
Not I, but we,’ Pita said. ‘Our minds are one. Two branches of the same river. Pia and I have our individual perceptions, but all then flows through the one channel. We decided I would be the speaker, and she is the listener and watcher.’

“
Teresa reached out to embrace them as if she was the lost triplet, but she only sensed a soothing feeling through the portions of her brain that attended to sensations of the body.

“‘
I cannot touch you two, yet you see me?’

“‘
We see what your consciousness projects. Some ordinary people occasionally visit this valley but only vaguely. To us, they are smudges of blue smoke. Others here who lack our gift can see nothing. Only as we began to dream of your valley recently did we realize that many of our people and yours travel to each other’s plane in a fleeting manner when they dream. You are the first of your kind whom we have met.’

“‘
Then it is fortunate I came up the stream tonight…’ casting a glance to the bright sunshine streaming through the narrow window outside, ‘…or should I say today. It is day here, but night in my world.’

“‘
Yes, that fits. It is always day when we visit your place. Our valleys are opposites. Please sit down and we’ll get you some tea.’

“‘
Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll even be able to lift up the cup much less drink the tea,’ Teresa laughed.

“
Pita and Pia giggled and hid their mouths with their hands. ‘Yes, of course! How silly of us, we were just trying to be polite. Perhaps you would enjoy smelling the tea since you have indicated you can smell our herbs.’

“‘
That would be delightful.’ The silent one went to another room, and the sound of pouring water and the strong scent of burning cottonwood filled the air.

“
Teresa asked, ‘I couldn’t help noticing you mentioned the dreams started recently.’

“‘
Yes, on the night of our twenty-first birthday.’

“
She drew in her breath sharply and almost woke up. ‘But a month ago was
my
twenty-first birthday!’

“
Pia came back quickly, her eyes as wide as Pita’s, who was also now mute. Pia then raised her right hand and extended three fingers. Her sister clasped her hand around the three fingers and Teresa also grasped Pia’s fingers, feeling the warmth of their hands, though the twins could feel nothing but a wisp of warm smoke.”

seven

“
As if a tornado had silently sucked her away, Teresa was pulled from Pita and Pia. Emerging from sleep, she was paralyzed for several seconds before she could sit up and stare out into the moonlit night.

“
It had been so real, not like an ordinary dream of vague shadows and irrational events strung together. She lay back down, but sleep did not return quickly and when it did, she did not dream or travel to Piralltah Steeples.

“
Morning came with freshly prepared tortillas and roasted green chile. Teresa greeted her father and mother dutifully. After a breakfast uninterrupted by conversation, her father left to his part-time job at Wartman’s, the nearby feed store a German immigrant had recently opened. Her mother busied herself with the dishes and cooking a red chile sauce for the beans that had been soaking overnight.

“
Wanting to escape the heat of the oven on a late summer morning, Teresa hurried to complete her chores of washing the dishes and making the beds. Dashing back through the kitchen, she stopped short, finding the door blocked by two women covered by what seemed to be the veils of widows.

“‘
Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know Mama had company…’”

“
The widows stood their ground without a word. Teresa’s mother turned from her boiling pot of beans and stared at Teresa, a frown furrowing its way across her forehead.