“He is searching, looking at women. I remember I’ve dreamed of him making the search before, this is the second time. What he’s doing is approaching every woman he sees, asking if they’ve borne, or know of the child. I observe him doing this, perhaps three times. He comes closer and closer until he touches them; once he touches them, he knows whether they are aware of the child, or not. The women are taken aback, because they have no idea what he’s doing. While I don’t understand, I at least can see it is a spiritual search.
I’m hoping he’ll reach me. But I am up here, lying in this bunk [reminiscent of those you might have on a galleon, but wood], and he’s only speaking to women on the ground. I expect he won’t approach me, but I hope he will. He arrives at the bunk and turns on me with intent. I reach down my right hand and he clasps it firmly, using it to bring himself up; his eyes clear, lighten, and he says, “You are the child. It’s you.”
I stare at him as he lies down beside me, tears of joy and relief streaming down my face. I kiss him over and over. He knows who I am, completely. Someone finally knows. Our bodies move together, my shirt is parted, and we begin to make love.”