Milo's Journey

Chapter 18

The dream world was a desolate place, frozen in time. The blood-red sun hung eternally in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the barren landscape. Dead trees stood like twisted sentinels, their gnarled branches reaching toward the heavens. Sharp rocks jutted from the ground, creating a treacherous terrain that seemed endless. It was a world devoid of life—a never-ending wasteland of emptiness and despair.

As they continued walking, they noticed others wandering aimlessly, shrouded in black, ragged cloaks, their shoulders stooped and their eyes fixed on the barren ground. Every now and then, shrieks and howls erupted from their mouths. Jose trembled at Milo’s side as he watched them.

“Do not fear, querido. These are the souls of the unrepentant dead. They wander here seeking prayers from their loved ones on Earth so they may receive light and evolve. They will not hurt us,” Milo said, smiling reassuringly.

Jose nodded and kept walking, gripping Milo’s hand more tightly.

Suddenly, a few of the lost souls noticed them and began shuffling toward them, moaning and howling loudly. Piyelito growled softly, the sound like distant thunder.

Milo looked down at the little dog.

Piyelito lunged forward, placing himself between Milo, Jose, and the lost souls. He began to grow until he was full-sized, his eyes glowing with red flames and a collar of human skulls hanging around his neck.

“Milo, this is what I saw in my dream,” Jose said, pointing at Piyelito.

“Opiyelguabiran,” Milo whispered softly.

The great dog turned at the sound of his name and looked at them both.

You have been here too long. The spirits of the dead have become restless. It is time for you to return to the land of the living.

The words rang in their minds, and Opiyelguabiran abruptly turned and released a deafening howl that shook the ground. Jose and Milo instinctively covered their ears as the sound thundered through the wasteland.

Milo sat up suddenly in bed and looked over at Jose, who had also bolted upright. Piyelito sat between them, watching them both.

Jose looked down at the little dog and then back at Milo.

“Milo… did we dream the same dream? Did Piyelito speak to us in the spirit world?”

“I’m not sure what happened, querido, but that was no normal dream,” Milo said as he stood and walked to the window. He was troubled but didn’t want to frighten Jose. The appearance of Opiyelguabiran meant the divine spark was very close, and he did not yet understand why Macquetuarie’s divine companion had chosen to appear as a puppy and bind himself to Jose.

Jose watched Milo standing in the pre-dawn light. He thought he could make out the faint outline of a man beside him. It was barely there, but Jose could see Milo nodding as if listening.

“Mi amor, who are you speaking to?” Jose asked quietly.

The silhouette turned toward Jose just as Milo glanced back, startled.

“Querido, what do you mean?”

“I can see the faint outline of a man standing next to you. I can hear a whisper, but I can’t make out the words.”

It seems the young master can see me.

“I was speaking to El Negro Juanito about our dream. Can you really see him?” Milo asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s hard to perceive… almost like an afterimage you get when you take a photo with a flash.”

“Jose, can you do me a favor and call for your guides?”

“Milo, is something wrong?” Jose asked, reaching for his hand.

“No, querido. More like an experiment. Can you call them? Do you remember their true names?”

Jose closed his eyes. After a moment, the gypsy prince and Campanita de Plata appeared beside the bed.

“Milo… am I really seeing them?” Jose asked, gesturing toward the two spirits.

“Yes, querido. You are. It seems you have developed the sight. Can you see El Negro Juanito?” Milo said, still holding Jose’s hand.

Jose focused and looked over Milo’s left shoulder. Suddenly, he saw the tall African warrior standing behind him.

“Milo, you never told me he was so big and fierce-looking,” Jose said, staring.

It seems the young master has gained the sight.

“And such a deep voice—it’s like the rumbling of an avalanche,” Jose said, covering his ears.

Milo laughed softly and took Jose’s hands away. “It will take some time, querido, but you’ll get used to it. Covering your ears won’t help—you’re hearing his voice in your mind, not with your ears.”

Jose looked up at El Negro Juanito. “Could you speak softer until I get used to it?”

The warrior smiled and nodded. Campanita and the gypsy prince smiled at Jose as well.

We will try to speak softly, Caballito, Campanita said gently.

Milo pulled Jose into a hug. “I know this is a lot, querido, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Milo looked out the window at the purple-pink sky as dawn approached. “Okay, querido. I need to take care of my chores before school. Want to help?”

Jose nodded.

“Well then, get a move on,” Milo said, grabbing an old T-shirt and a pair of overalls and tossing them to Jose as he found clothes for himself.