It was not the first night after visiting the graveyard that I had the initial dreams about it. But when they hit they were vivid — the sort of dreams that blur what’s reality and what’s not, that when you wake you are not sure where you are. The first thing I recall from the first dream was sitting underneath the tree with the sky still looking ominous just as when I was there. The wind was strong. I heard a distant barking dog but no dog to be found. I stood up and walked around. One gravestone stood out in the early evening light and I proceeded toward it. The epitaph was difficult to read, so I bent to my knees and there I found this message:
Earl Schall
Born 1810 Died 1848
By reading this we make the deal:
Curses to all who attempt to steel.
The first to settle in these fine hills,
I found the plot after great measure,
a place to bury my hard earned treasure,
and it is with this last note I leave my will:
I was a father to all but mainly three,
what’s buried belongs to Anderson, Fred, and Anna Marie.
That was all that was recorded on the tombstone. Eire, I know. And as soon as I finished reading the epitaph in my dream I awoke. I did not tell Sara about it until after the 3rd dream and that’s when she confirmed she that not only had she had dreams but they were identical to mine, completely with the same epitaphs. Together, we wondered about the treasure that was mentioned. Sara speculated that a treasure map of images were placed in our minds and that all the clues were there to uncover the treasure. I remember thinking that that the treasure must surely be buried there with the dead, maybe even inside a coffin.
Odd to me about Earl’s grave was his age: 38 years old when he died — the same as my age at the time of the dreams.
