The House of the God

The first memory I have, of the lake, is from when I was four years old. Funnily enough, there are parts of the incident I remember as if it happened yesterday, while other parts I can’t recall at all. And even more so, there are some details I remember, sometimes vividly but, differently each time.

The dreams I see, from time to time, of the very same event may have messed up with my memories of it, too. They are dreams and so, they are inaccurate, of course. At times, even whilst I’m still dreaming, I can say something is off. Most times, though, I realise it only after waking up.

Anyway! Let me tell you what I do remember of the incident.

As I said, I was four, then. I remember my father waking me up too early in the morning and telling me to quietly get ready, for us to go for a walk. I don’t remember him giving me any excuse for that, but I do remember I got ready quietly, and sneaked out of the house, with him, without eating any breakfast, or waking up my mother.

It was pouring outside and this, along with the early hour of the day, made it as dark as night. I always find it stupid we did what we did in a weather like that, but at the time I don’t recall giving it a second thought. So, anyway, my father grasped my hand, so tightly it actually hurt, and said, “Let’s go”, looking straight in front of him.

There are other moments from when I can remember the exact phrases I heard or spoke – both on this occasion and on others – but when I remember this particular saying, I can actually hear my father speaking. Mind that my father died a few months after this event, from some illness, so remembering his voice is surprising to me.

So we hit the road and walked a little hurriedly. Well, I was small, so I don’t know if we actually did so, but that’s how it felt to me. Maybe, my father was walking normally. But it wasn’t like he was trying to find cover, or to avoid the rain any how. We just walked down the town, towards the lake.

There was a boat there. I think it was my father’s, but I can’t really remember the boat. He lifted me and put me in it and then he got in it as well, and we set off. I remember that my father used the oars and started the engine only when we were far away from the coast. Well… what seemed to be far away to me, at least. Probably this I remember inaccurately, for it doesn’t make much sense, but that’s the image I have in my mind. But then again, many a distance seems much smaller now than it did when I was a kid.

Even when winds hit our land, the lake never has big waves. There is a part of it where there are many reefs – some visible, some not – and the current there is always strong. There, the lake is always choppy. Much more so when there are strong winds and storms. Coincidentally, this area is near where the rock and the house of the God is. I mean, of Lugh. But, of course, I was too young then to have any knowledge of this.

You may think that our little father and son adventure would have been fun. And, maybe, I had thought so, too, at the time. But it wasn’t any fun. It’s not like we had any amusing conversations, or did anything together. In fact, I was sat in my place, and told not to move, and my father drove the boat. In silence. But still, I was excited about it, and was looking forward to whatever my father had planned.

Whatever it was, though, it never happened, and I was the one who ruined it for him. I don’t remember why and how, but I fell off of the boat, and into the lake.

I was too young, ok? So, no, I couldn’t really swim at all. And it was choppy. They felt like huge waves to my small body. And I was feeling like the current was drifting me miles away, back and forth, with a tremendous power. I was desperately trying to keep my head above the surface, but I was under it most of the time. I’m not sure if I was screaming for help, whenever I managed to momentarily get my mouth out of the water. Maybe not. Maybe I thought I still shouldn’t make a noise. And, maybe, this is the reason my father didn’t realise I had fallen into the lake.

I think I was thrown onto a rock at some point. I do remember feeling pain while trying to move my arms and legs to resurface, for a moment and from then on, but, honestly, I don’t recall the hit itself.

And the lake, finally, beat me.

I remember being under the surface, trying to get up again, but submerging deeper and deeper, instead. And I remember this as if the lake had suddenly become calm.

Of course, it hadn’t. And, of course, this was just a feeling. I mean I must have arisen, if only a little, for I remember seeing the light of the sun getting brighter and brighter. And then I felt a firm grasp in my forearm and an intense pull. Actually, my shoulder got dislocated. Maybe because of the pain of this, which I didn’t really feel then, or because of my strength abandoning me, I lost consciousness before getting out of the water.

The next thing I remember is waking up on the shore, and my father standing next to me, looking down at me, scared.

And then, I tried to move. And then, I felt the most awful pain in my shoulder. I’ll never forget this pain! And my father took me to the hospital and they fixed my shoulder. And, honestly, this felt even worse!

Anyway! Funny thing is, since that day, and for some time after that, there was a very nice smell on my forearm. I did wash. I even had showers. But the smell remained for some time, nevertheless. And I kept sniffing my forearm and feeling nice. Secure. Safe!

You’d think I’d be terrified of the lake, after that. Right? And that’s the other funny thing. Quite the opposite! I started going to the lake, most probably, daily. It was like I had fallen in love with the very same lake that almost took my life. I had my mother, or grandmother taking me to the lake. I remember crying naggingly to force them do it.

And that’s when I remember seeing the house of the God, and the God himself, looking back at me, for the very first time. I remember I sent a small float to him, with a note saying, “I see your house and you!”. Maybe not my exact words, to be honest, but that’s the spirit.

I remember my mother bursting into tears when I told her I could see the house. I remember my grandmother grabbing me in her arms and running back home, holding me tightly, when I did the same to her. I do remember neither of them wanted me to keep going to the lake after that. But as I said, I pestered them continuously, and even threatened them I’d go by myself, so they were forced into taking me there.

Then my father died. And then my grandmother, for first time, told me the story of the Demon and the God. Yes, I knew about the God living in the lake. Everybody growing up here can’t help knowing it, but I didn’t know what kind of “person” he was.

I’m ashamed to admit that the thought that, maybe, my father tried to sacrifice me to the God to save his life did cross my mind, when I learned what the God did to the eighteen youngsters. I know it was a foolish thought. I know. But I was four. Remember?

And, in any case, even if this actually was what he tried to do, he did saved me. Right? So, that’s all that matters. People, sometimes, do crazy things when fear overwhelms them. What matters is, he overcame his fear and saved me. I mean, if he tried to sacrifice me. If! Which he didn’t. Of course!

So, that’s my first memory of the house of the God and the rock it stands upon. No mists surrounding it, no intense spiritual training for me to see beyond them. I just saw it. Simple as that.

And as for the almost drowning event, it really had no negative effect on me. Really! Even after learning the true nature of the God, I neither hated the lake, nor did I fear it.

The only after-effect of the incident is these dreams of it I keep having every now and then. They are not really annoying, to tell the truth. And yes, I usually relive all the fear I felt then, which disturbs my sleep, a little. But then, I wake up, like now, smelling this perfect smell. It doesn’t last long, but it’s so intoxicating for as long as it lasts.

“Relax, Kane. It was just a dream! You are safe! I’m here! Relax!”

And I open my eyes.

My face is pressed against Lugh’s chest so intensively that I can’t really see what’s in front of me, when I do. I draw back my head a little, and then I see Lugh, looking at me, smiling warmly.

“Good morning, Kane.”

“Good morning,” I reply, still half asleep.

“It was just a dream. You are safe!”

And then I realise I’m clinging onto him, like a baby monkey onto its mother. He holds me in return, firmly but gently. Abruptly I release my hold. He looks so hurt I can’t help hugging him again. I inhale deeply to find my words to apologise, but…

“Lugh? You didn’t…”

“I would never mess with your dreams, Kane. I want you to be happy and smiley. So, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“No, of course not. I mean… forget it! Sorry! I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I was already awake. And even if you had woken me up, there would be no reason for you to apologise.”

And I smile, at peace. And cuddle up in his hug. His warm, welcoming hug. And he smiles, too. I don’t see it, but I know!