“I call them human ghosts,” Dan says with a laugh.   “What I mean is...they always looked human to me, and they were ghosts.   Most of them seemed like ordinary people you’d meet anywhere.   I’d see them at night in bed.   Most of them would look as real as you do right now.”
           Chapter Eight — DAVID
Five thousand feet above the sea, Kewe, somber, pensive, recommences his journey.  As he drives, high ridges as far as the eye can see, the view is absolutely stunning.
Here in this perfect blue sky Kewe asks if it could be true, if perhaps `beings,' some inner grouping, had seen a moment where an eruption was about to take place.
He is sure they in their the domains, those who reside in other space-life energy, have knowledge of the shiftings of Earth.  
If this knowledge is theirs, then, for this moment of time, did they decided to dissipate an inner weakness brought about by the plates that move.
The spirit had that been Gaia as some call Earth's Guardian Spirit.
That was more than Kewe wanted to believe.  
It was the thought of Gaia that came to him out on the ledge.
Gaia balancing all that occurs on this planet.
Kewe stares at the snow jewels standing out in the sky.  Tac'homa or Tahoma, the name first given to Mount Rainier, rests quietly.
In the crystal clear sunlight, he thinks of the beauty in the symmetry of forces.  
He thinks of the energy available, plates to move, slabs to dissolve, gases, magma forced through conduits, mountains to rise.  
The vast cosmic oceans have almost unlimited power.  It would be little for an inner domain to focus the light, the energy needed to seal a mountain.  
Could he really have been the catalyst that connected the two, himself between the two forces without himself being affected.
Looking across the snowbanks, dazzling light reflecting from the sun, he speculates whether he might have been picked because of the energy spiral he's been absorbing.
He's sure a force, some intelligence has been guiding him these past few days.  Had he been brought to the mountain to prevent magma and gas from being freed, for layers to be sealed.
By light energy or whatever the mountain needed to remain stable, in some way he believes this had been done.
As he heads down the steep, curving road, he thinks of the creatures that live on these high ridges.  
Bearded, shaggy goats that wander with their white coats, their long, dense hair, scrambling to eat what is of grass and plant.
He thinks of the mighty debris-covered terminus of Emmons, the treeless toe where the White River merges.
It used to be that you could enter ice caves here, extraordinary caves.  Sunlight would pass through the walls turn the icy surfaces into a glowing blue.  For a period the ice has been gone.  Is it due to return?
The hoary marmots who sun themselves on the rocks.  The snowbed buttercups, and white-star, glacier lilies that melt their path through the snowy blankets, all this is Rainier.
Kewe thinks of the wind moving across the ice, fluffing over snowshoe hares hiding in the protection of Alaska cedar, of mountain hemlock.
In this alpine wildness, patches of rosy spirea, magenta paintbrush, mix with blue and orange and white.  Lush fields flourishing in summer, meadows of red heather, white heather, aster, saxifrage, phlox, lupine.  Where centuries old twisted Krummholz survive, just three feet tall.
Welcome to the wonderland where green becomes yellow, then a thick carpet of white.
As he drives, Kewe thinks of the swamps that used to be around.
In geologic time less than a day since this region was warm swamp.  A million years past, palm trees grew here, Rainier not the first volcano that rose upon the land.
Before Rainier an ancestral volcano, its name used by those who lived here then, unknown to us.  This volcano shot its crown hundreds of miles to the east.
Twenty five million years ago volcanic peaks were islands as the sea crept in.  
Opening the car window, air fans his face.
Now instead of lava pouring across these cliffs, yellow march and marigold span the fields.  Whitebark pine, alpine fir, growing on the mountain slopes.  And where a tree has fallen, a dogwood flower taking root.
Near a pond marsh marigold.  
Alaskan yellow cedar, western white pine, lodgepole pine, silver fir, western hemlock, all grow well in the dense cool of the montane forests, the shade that slowly creeps around him.  
Kewe thinks of the cougar, the black bear, the bobcats, the mule deer, of the hare and elk and beaver that have made their home here.  Vaux's owl and spotted owl will be perched out on the snags giving their haunting call.  Woodpeckers will be chipping away.
Among the shrubs and bushes and wet woodlands, swallows and jays and robins, and hermit thrush, and nuthatch and Pacific-slope flycatchers, all have built a home.  Many thousands more birds in their many species will visit.
Up ahead, peering through the car window, he sees a flagman.  Kewe stops the car.  A road crew is widening the road.  
The engine off, winds whisper gently through the leaves.
From the forest, he watches as a squirrel jumps onto his hood, stares for seconds into the window before it scampers off.  The flagman waves him through.
The road becomes more like a long, straight highway.  A hawk flies off into the distance.  
Memory of a conversation he had with Rick comes into his mind.  Rick had told him before leaving for Kansas that Sue has a special entity she talks to -- someone called David.
She hears his voice, Rick had said.  He'll ask Sue if he can talk to David.  
The afternoon wearing thin, now he's passing plantings of second-and-third-generation trees and he imagines what it must have looked like when the old forests were here.  Much of the old-growth, the enormous plenty of ancient trees have been cut down.  
Then the forest had a thick enough cover that during winter the deep canopy could trap and support the snow.  Animals browsed all year because of the canopy.  Bats and flying squirrels would flit through the trees.  Chipmunks and tree squirrels forage in the undergrowth.  
The unbroken canopy allowed for an unbelievable number of forest creatures.
Scampering along the forest floor would be raccoons and weasels.  Spotted skunk and striped skunk nosed along.  Moles cleverly buried themselves.
Pocket gophers and deer mice and voles and wood rats and porcupines scurried.
And pacific giant salamander crawled among the small branches.
The treetops once formed a huge, deep canopy so thick that lightning had much less chance to strike through to the ground.  
Black-tailed deer and foxes live in these tall, dark-green trees.  Lynx cruising through them.
When through a patch, sun does shine down, due to an old fallen tree, wood fern and oak fern will grow, a swelling undergrowth that allows for new life.
In the backwoods near a stream Oregon grape can be found, together with sedge and hazel.
So also the creeping little pipsissewa, the four-foot tall western skunk cabbage.
Lady fern, deer fern, swordfern, bracken fern, and many huckleberry, blue-leaf, thin-leaf, oval-leaf, red-leaf all flourish together.  
Salmonberries sweeten, as do western thimble raspberry, grouse whortleberry, sticky currant, wood strawberry.
In the low valleys, herbs like American vetch, kinnnikinnick, devil's club, brooklime and spreading phlox will spread.  
Dandelion will mix with swordfern and bracken fern and rusty menziesia.
Vanilla leaf will be seen, and yount-on-age, and salal and slender hawkweed and ox-eye daisy and goldenrod and roses and azalea and rhododendron.  
Blue-violet cusicks, bleeding hearts and shinleaf and one-sided pyrola, red berry beadruby with their shiny leaves, all part of this scenery.  
Around the streams and ponds, varileaf cinquefoi, stonecrop creep.
Snakes and water frogs and toads, all the small amphibian life of the region, will be sliding and jumping.
Poisonous green false hellebore and toxic wildginger are here too, with fool's huckleberry that give off the meanest skunk odor when crushed.
Out on the forest floor waves of mushrooms and toadstools, and in the dead and down logs, plying along, and carrying and eating through the decaying vegetation and moss, beetles, earwigs, termites...a trillion insects.
Ants and daddy-longlegs amidst walking sticks and wasps, bumblebees, yellow jackets....
The volume of cars increase.
The day is getting late in the lowlands, sunrays falling far aslant on the road.
Kewe has been noticing a milky white river running alongside, but as the river turns suddenly, dirt lanes with sloping-roofed beams and skylights make their presence.  A-framed houses more and more filling the gaps.
Reaching the outskirts of the town, all around is construction, new development.  How much this part has changed since last he was here.  
Cars inch their way through the intersections.  He has to wait minutes at the new signal in town.
So near the National Forest, Kewe wonders how long the edge will hold.
And inside the edge, the hills and valleys that surround the mountain.
He flashes again on the comment Rick made about Sue.  ``There's a spirit-force we call David who talks to her.  Sue listens.  She can hear.'' He's going to ask Sue if he can talk to David, see what he thinks.
It is close to eight when he rolls into the cul-de-sac where Sue has a house.  As he pulls into the drive, she waves to him from the window.
``Glad you made it,'' she says as he arrives at the door.\, She hugs him closely.
.  .  .
``I'm sorry I'm late,'' Kewe smiles apologetically.  ``I stopped off at the crest, and of course the traffic has increased.  The town's much busier.  You wouldn't believe the time it takes to get through the lights.''
``Oh, I would.'' Sue laughs.  ``Trust me -- I know.''
Kewe looks around for anything new as he follows Sue into the house.  A high, sloping ceiling above the stairs is also part of the living room, making the thickly carpeted room, open, airy.  The place is filled with plants and small indoor fountains that gurgle away.  ``It's been too long,'' Kewe says.  
``It has,'' Sue replies.  ``The boys are upstairs working on school projects they have to finish.  We went ahead with dinner.  I hope you don't mind.''
``No, of course not,'' Kewe says, following her into the kitchen.  A dining area connects to the kitchen and she immediately takes a large bowl of salad from the refrigerator, plunks it on the dining room table.  
``Everything's all ready,'' she says, extending a chair for him to sit.  ``There's lasagna waiting on a low heat in the oven.'' Kewe begins to chomp on the fresh, leafy vegetables.  ``So why did you wind up in Yakima?'' she looks curious.  ``Any particular reason?''
``It's a long story,'' Kewe responds between bites.  ``I had this crazy idea I had to get out of town.  All week a weird feeling of something about to take place, an earthquake would you believe.  Then dreaming about volcanoes erupting.  I even dreamt a young boy was building a sand mountain, building it without a top.  Then I was in the middle of the volcano, watching magma pushing through open conduits.  It was crazy.''
Sue brings the lasagna from the oven.  ``Did you know Steve when he was little would build Rainier in sand?  `There she goes,' he would say as he wiped off the top.'' She looks at him with a bemused look.  
``He did?'' Kewe stares at her surprised.  ``Really!  I didn't know that.  You think it was Mount St.  Helens he was thinking about, not Rainier?''
``I don't know,'' Sue says, bringing out a large glass of iced tea from the refrigerator.  ``He always said he was building Rainier.''
``The dream happened at the motel,'' Kewe says.  ``It came after a bunch of stuff, but don't ask me if I understand.  I haven't figured any of it.  There is a full moon and the tide is the highest it's been and....''
Sue sits at the table across from him.  ``I'm glad you came,'' she says.  ``Sorry I didn't answer your call.  We haven't talked for months you know.''
``I'm glad I called you from Yakima!'' Kewe has difficulty speaking as he finishes the last of the lasagna.
He pushes the empty plate aside.  ``Thank you.  There is one thing I wanted to talk about,'' he continues, somewhat hesitantly.  
``Rick told me recently you communicated with a David, I think he said.  He said you've been talking to David most of your life.  All the time I've known you I never knew any of that.''
Kewe adds nervously, ``I hope you don't mind me bringing this up.  You've never mentioned it all the time I've known you.''
``It's true about David,'' Sue acknowledges.  ``But saying I hear and speak with someone....''
Kewe gives her a look before he speaks.  ``Does David talk to you often?''
``Not as much,'' she answers regretfully.  ``Not at all like he once did.''
``Perhaps you hear him in your thoughts,'' Kewe says.  ``You remember I went to the retreat center.  When I was there they were talking about the contact we make in thought.  I was talking to the Director, the one who died.  
``I'd been listening to him towards the end of the week, not really knowing, but it wasn't until I left the retreat center and stopped off at the State University that the thoughts became words.  Clear as verbal contact at times.  On the steps of the library while I was waiting out the rain, I heard him.  Do you hear, as thoughts or words?''
Sue wrinkles her brow.  ``Gosh, you know I never really thought about how I hear David.  How do I hear him?  I hear words.  I hear his voice.  I do hear him as thoughts at times.'' Sue squints as if she's straining to see.  ``He has an accent.''
She turns away ``He has a style, a certain manner.  Even when I hear thoughts, they come through as if in a pattern.  It's the same pattern exactly as when I hear his words.  He seems to be choosing the right words...that's what I think he does.  
``David chooses some expression that I will be able to understand.  It's as if he's putting thoughts he wants me to have into a phrase or phrases that I can recognize.''
She laughs.  ``That's how it comes the thoughts or words...in little phrases.  I'd probably say I get the thoughts more often, you know, the thoughts that speak in your mind but are not words, then I hear actual words as I'm hearing you.  He has these inflections that don't change even with the thoughts.  How about dessert?  Are you ready for dessert?''
.  .  .
Kewe finishing a bowl of fruit and ice cream, a pastry on the side, they go out into the garden.  Sue points to a grove of trees.  
``I've always had a great trust in David.  When things are quieter, David comes to me here.'' She looks back at the house.  ``It's never that quiet.''
Kewe laughs.  ``When you first started hearing David.  When was it?  Can you remember?''
Sue pauses before she answers.  ``David has been around as long as I can remember.  I didn't even think there was anything unusual about who he was when I was little.  He was always there.  The one thing about David is how gentle he is.  There were others I spoke to when I was a child, other beings I thought of as ordinary people, but David has always been closest.  He's always been the supportive one.  He is like an additional parent.''
As they stroll along the deck, Kewe intrigued with her story asks if she remembers when she first began to call him by name.
``Funny you should ask that,'' she says.  ``I never called him by any name for a long time.  We didn't talk that way.  I would just think of him and he would be there.  It was only after I married that I began to give him a name.
``We met a couple, West and Lara, when Rick and I were visiting his sister.  The four of us became friends and one time Lara told me about a spirit presence she channeled.  She said it was a soul she'd known before.  She called him David.'
``I knew Laura channeled,'' Kewe says.  ``I didn't know it was someone named David, and that you had contact.''
Sue nods.  ``When West was performing at a nightspot in town and we met you at Rick's apartment and went to the club because it was Lara's birthday, there were other things to talk about.  Lara channels a number of guides.  It took me some time to realize that Lara was channeling the same person I was hearing.''
Kewe gets closer as her voice has dropped.  ``These talks with West and Lara became like doing research.  All four of us brought a different perspective on how we viewed David.''
Her voice becomes even quieter before she continues.  ``Families are not locked in.  Rick has sort of pulled away.''
``Families?'' Kewe asks.
Sue smiles.  ``To us families are places many of us go to when we leave here.  Families mean all kinds of things, different lives, lives where we have lived with each other.  We began talking about lifetimes, and there were many where we figured at least parts of ourselves had previous existences with each other.'
``It is an inner family.  In the family, David has the picture title of, `The head of the household.'''
``When I was little,'' Sue continues, ``David would come to me and say, you know, sort of pushing, `Oh, go in that direction.' I understood it was his love saying that.  It was the love that I understood most.  As I became older, David still came but less often.  I remember I was looking at one of the trees when we first moved here.  That's why I brought you out here.  It was years ago, but I remember all of these thoughts were starting.  I could hear David talking, about the tree and about growth and the life that leads from growing, and suddenly there were these terrific insights flowing into me.''
Dan the oldest boy steps out onto the deck while she's talking.  He says he's trying to find his shirt for the game.  He needs it for tomorrow and no way is it upstairs.
Sue says she's sure she washed it.  ``Talk to Kewe,'' she orders, walking double-quick into the house.  ``I know I put it somewhere.''
Dan in high school is a lanky six feet and growing.  Kewe and he seldom get a chance to talk.  
``Want to go inside?'' Kewe says.  ``We might catch a shirt!''
Dan laughs.  ``Okay.''
The deck leads into a sunken family room.  ``Sorry about dinner,'' Dan remarks as they walk.  ``I was up for waiting until you arrived, but Steve had much more to do than me.''
``I imagine high school's busy for both of you?'' Kewe says, sitting on a couch.  ``This time of year, finishing up the projects?'' Dan nods as he perches on the arm of one of the chairs.
``When we talked last time, Dan, I remember you mentioned you had another name.  It was a name you are called as your inner being.  You were telling me yours is Aunn...something.  I wanted to ask how you found out your name.  I never did get the chance.''
Dan shrugs.  ``It was Dad.  Dad was talking to Mom, saying his name, and I'm thinking what's mine.  All of a sudden I get this name.  It just pops into my head.''
Dan like most high school kids is not that comfortable with adults.  But you can have a conversation if he's in the mood.  
Kewe asks, ``You're sure then about your inner name?''
Dan nods.
Kewe says jokingly, ``Next you'll be telling me there are people you meet on the other side.''
``I know there are people on the other side,'' Dan says with a straight face.  ``I know because when I was younger I could see them.''
Kewe, totally at a loss as to how to proceed, stares at him.
``I call them human ghosts,'' Dan says with a laugh.  ``What I mean is...they always looked human to me, and they were ghosts.  Most of them seemed like ordinary people you'd meet anywhere.  I'd see them at night in bed.  Most of them would look as real as you do right now.''
Sue returns with the shirt.  ``I found it,'' she says, chuckling.  ``Guess where?  Behind the computer.  I thought the most obvious place would be to leave it on top, for you to see.  It had slipped behind the screen.''
``Thanks, Mom.'' Dan says as he wraps the shirt around his waist.  ``You remember how I used to see people when I was a young kid?  Remember how some of them seemed happy and others bothered me.  There were some who were just freaky.''
Sue nods and glances at Kewe.  ``He told me that some were like fuzzy lights.'' She looks back at her son.  ``Most were regular people but there were some who were strange, weren't they?''
Dan adds, emphatically, ``Sometimes they sent out energy I wasn't comfortable with.  I'm not sure if it was my age or what.''
``The freaky ones,'' Kewe says, ocked into Dan's confiding.  ``You think those might be dead linga sarira.''
``Linga sarira?''
Kewe searches for an explanation.  
``It's a name used in ancient scripture.  Linga sarira is an inner sheaf of energy.  We all have it.  A dead linga sarira is an inner body of somone who has moved on, say into the astral star frequencies.  The ghost body for whatever reason, often because of some horror, some great emotional energy stored, keeps in a sense alive.  If taken and used by a spirit without a ghost body, the energy molds to the new owner's shape, and that makes the body looks like a zombie, something like in the movies, misshapen, grotesque.''
``You think you might have seen anything like that,'' Kewe asks.  
``I don't think so.'' Dan stares at him.  ``I'm sure most of the people I could see were real people.  It always struck me that they didn't know how to talk to me and I didn't know how to talk to them.  Most of the time it was confusing.''
``You may have been connecting with ghosts, people who don't have a physical body anymore, but they haven't given up the linga body.  But they could be from any frequency, any place.  How did you get rid of them?  Did they just leave your bedroom?''
Dan has to think before he answers.  ``None of them stayed around long.  One time I remember seeing a woman at the foot of the bed.  I actually got out of bed so I could see her clearer.  `Who are you?' I asked.  All I got was this look of surprise.  I asked her two more times who she was but she never answered.  She disappeared.  She was no longer there.''
Sue leans over to Dan.  ``You remember last Christmas when all the ornaments of your aunt's tree became unhooked.  She called me and told me to come over.''
Sue looks at Kewe.  ``It was the funniest thing.  My sister had been having these attacks from her tree.  Every time she'd get close, she kept getting her hair caught.   She had no idea if it was her, or somehow the tree, or perhaps a mischievous spirit.
``She called me because she knows I can sense spirits and sometimes see them.  When I went over to her house I could see a little boy under the tree.  He looked so sad.  He was sitting right at the bottom of the tree.  He was looking so lonely.  We figure the boy must have come inside the house when she brought the tree.  He was attaching my sister's hair to the tree to get her attention.''
``You hear so many of these stories,'' Kewe responds, nodding.  ``They say there are more children as ghosts than anything else.  They won't go towards the light when it comes.  They want to remain where they are.  Did you help him into the light Sue?  Lost souls wandering in our world!  Children!  It was Christmas and he was under the tree.  The damnedest thing!  What do you think Dan?''
``I think if you're the boy under the tree,'' Dan says, ``it is like you're dreaming.  The boy can see us, people in the physical world, but to him it is more as if he is dreaming.  It's different once you go beyond the light.  After you go beyond the light, it becomes more about where you want to be.  You're not just hanging around.''
He continues, surprising Kewe again, ``There's a person I know who is sometimes with me.  I feel his presence...my uncle...who died a few years ago.  
``I feel his thoughts.  I think that once we are beyond the light there are different places we go.  Sometimes we make contact, as my uncle does, in his thoughts.''
``Something else I never usually talk about,'' Dan is suddenly very serious.  ``I was in the war in Vietnam.''
Kewe's astonished at his opening up like this.  ``You were?  How do you figure you were in the war?  Do you see...pictures, images?''
``Yeah, I was a soldier,'' Dan answers.  ``There are some things that I remember very clearly...  like my dying, for instance.  I know how I was killed.  It was by fighting, by gunfire.'' He nods.
Kewe asks, ``Why do you think you came back so quickly this time.  It's not that long since the war.''
Dan takes his time answering, obviously thinking.  ``The life was shorter than I wanted it to be.  I didn't get to live long.''
``I know you're a great kite flyer,'' Kewe says.  ``How about that?  You do kite flying in the past?''
Dan laughs.  ``Nope.  Though I remember being a great sword fighter.  Kite flying is great.  I love the way the kite dances.'' He picks up the shirt he came for.  ``Thanks Mom,'' he says.  Already inches taller than his mother, he pats her on top of the head.  ``Good Job.''
Dashing upstairs, he yells from the top.  ``Hey, I think I wanted to try something new with the kites.  I already did the sword fights.''
.  .  .
Sue is in the kitchen fixing coffee.  Kewe is perusing the collection of dolls she has displayed on a cherry-wood table.  All have fairy wings.  There's furry panda bears in one corner.  A bear on all fours, a bear seated with its fore limbs raised, a bear playing roly-poly.  
Above one of the windows, a wind chime is shaped like a wolf.  Underneath is a display of clay wolves.  Sue has not yet turned on the lights, and in the shadowy dimness Kewe is looking at a small glass orb set on the table.  Stooping to get a closer view, a moon glows inside.  At the base surrounded by little trees, a tiny wolf bays at its moon.
``These wolves,'' Kewe calls to Sue in the kitchen.  ``They look scary in these shadows.  Not especially who you'd like to meet on a dark moor night.''
Sue pops her head around the counter section.  ``That's right!  But turn on the light.  Did you notice the crystal I've got hanging on all the windows?  In the daytime when the sun catches them, the room fills with rainbows.''
Emerging from the kitchen carrying a tray with two steaming cups, the other son, Steve, shouts some inaudible words from the top of the landing.  Placing the tray on the coffee table, Sue goes to look up the stairs.  ``Serves you right,'' she shouts back at him.
Flicking a switch that turns on a sidelight, she removes the cups from the tray.  ``I don't have any cream,'' she says.  ``I know you like cream.  I brought some milk.'' She pats the sofa cushion, sits waiting for Kewe to come and drink the coffee beside her.
``Thanks,'' Kewe grins as he sits down, adds the milk.  He's nervous because he wants to ask Sue if he can talk to David.  He's never spoken through an intermediary to a spirit.  
The clock ticks.  He says nothing.  Sue says nothing.  
Kewe, getting ever more nervous, broods into his cup.  He looks across at Sue.  She smiles at him.
Getting progressively more agitated, he's about to ignore the whole idea, only curiosity, and more, energy, is pushing him to ask.  It keeps insisting.  He has to ask.  He blurts out, ``Sue...any chance...I could talk to David?''
There's a real look of surprise.  Sue looks baffled.  ``I don't know,'' she begins to say.  ``I haven't....'' Then a most peculiar expression, part stare, part shock.  ``Oh!  Yes!'' she says.  ``It's okay.  David's here.  He's talking to me.''
Now it's Kewe's turn to be surprised.  ``David is talking to you now?''
Sue nods.  ``Yes.  David asks me to tell you it is he.   He is telling me that he doesn't mind speaking with you.  He says he would not wish to be bothered with anyone, but with you he expects the effort will prove worthy.''
``David, can you ask him.  Sorry.  Thank you David,'' Kewe responds incredulously.
Kewe is fumbling.  ``David you are here,'' he starts, `I mean....  Excuse me David, but can you tell me if you are one of the twenty-four-hour guys? I mean, excuse me, are one of the high Spiritual Beings?''
``That is correct.'' Sue looks at him.  ``You are not understanding exactly what that means though.  We do not always tune to your worlds.''
The atmosphere has become so charged, so thick with the sense of energy that Kewe is more than struggling.  ``Please forgive me David,'' he says.  ``I'm forgetting everything I wanted to ask.''
Sue's unruffled voice responds gently, ``You have an interest in earth movements.''
``Of course,'' Kewe says, remembering.  ``At the motel I was doing a meditation and I wanted to know if there would be an earth change.  A strong vision of Mt.  Rainier and movement in the Cascade volcanic chain followed.  It sat there in my mind.  I couldn't clear it.''
Kewe can tell that Sue is checking with the inner presence.  She wants to say exactly the correct words.  ``It is likely,'' Sue responds carefully, ``Mt.  Rainier will erupt.  We do not have a time for you exactly, but be assured you will have knowledge of this event as it begins to happen.  Your scientists will know.  For those who wish to leave, there will be time to do so.  Most should leave when the mountain becomes active.''
``It is not your need to be overwhelmed with this concern,'' Sue's voice continues.  ``What takes place, when it does, will be dealt with by others.  You should accept this.''
Listening to the response, Kewe has an image of a young man, a tall, slim man, dressed in of all things, a modern suit.  The man is smiling.  
Kewe, reasoning that this part of the world might be coming to an end this week, mumbles, ``You can imagine how stupid I feel thinking....''
Sue leaning close whispers in his ear, ``We all think we do stupid things.''
The sense Kewe receives of this person talking to him is how open and sincere he is.  Talking to him no farther distance away than Sue, David is treating him as a close friend.
Sue takes Kewe's hand.  A wave of energy sweeps through the top of his head.  So much energy his brain wants to disconnect.  Summoning whatever remaining clarity he can muster, Kewe cries out, ``Can I be in contact with you again David?  Is that possible?''
Sue looks confused at this request.  He can see her cocking her head to one side, as if she's checking multiple times to make sure she's hearing correctly.
At last she speaks the words very carefully.  ``Use the computer.''
She's looking at Kewe trying to verify from him that this might be the answer.
``Use the computer.'' The words mean nothing to Kewe.  He's blank.  He has no idea which computer she is talking about.  
Then suddenly as if a switch is thrown, he gasps, ``I'm to use the word processor?''
Sue gives him a big smile.  She nods.  
Kewe laughs.  ``Thank you David.  I will.  I will use the computer.  
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