The following is taken from the manuscript utilzied by the publisher in preparing the author's book for print.

The Reindeer Boy

By Christopher Harding

An Open Invitation

What would you do if you had a dream tonight which irreversibly changed your life---an experience so unexpectedly profound that it dramatically shifted your entire worldview, leaving its mark indelibly etched into the fabric of your heart, your mind, your very soul? Would you share it? If so, with whom?

These are the questions that left me perplexed for some time following my own unforgettable voyage into the Great Beyond. Finally though, after a great deal of internal dialogue, I made my decision. I would put my dream to paper, give it a life so to speak, and allow whomever would be drawn to it the opportunity to enjoy the deepening power of its simple, yet profound insights.

Though the work of describing the uncommon experiences that played out on the dream plane was at times frustrating, I gradually let go and came to trust that the essence or spirit of this Journey somehow becomes present for anyone who reads this tale with an open heart. For you see, as I discovered, the magic of this story is not in the words, but rather in the soul of the reader.

Therefore, my fellow dreamer, since life has apparently led you to meet me here at this threshold, I invite you to join me as I tell you of this most remarkable Journey---a voyage which continues to this day to fill with me intrigue and the spirit of awe.

Perhaps with your indulgence, I can lead you into the Dream World---to the very place where for me the story began. For in that unpredictable realm, what started out as a magical and at times troubling dream, unfolded into an unexpected rite of passage that led me to the very nexus of my being.

As we embark on this astral excursion together, bring along your adventuresome spirit, won’t you? Follow me back to that evening where once again we’ll let this mythical tale spin its magic.

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CHAPTER ONE

Silent Movies

The journey of a lifetime often begins without any fanfare at all, and so it was for me. I was in my comfortable world one evening when I started drifting off to sleep earlier than normal. It had been a long day and as I lay down on my bed for a moment's rest, I fell fast asleep. While my body had no further energy to give to the night, that deeper part of my being, or my soul as one might say, started on a journey---a voyage into the Dream World.

After making my way through the initial haze that sometimes accompanies one’s entrance into the dream plane, I found myself in front of a worn and dilapidated brick building. It was several stories high and surrounded by nothing but barren land.

In the distance I could see traces of green sprouting from the hard grey earth. The sky was thin and filled with hazy clouds. By the distinctly empty smell in the air, I knew my mind had taken me to that desolate arctic region known as the tundra.

Unlike you or me perhaps, tundra people, at least the ones in my dreams, are very peculiar. They don't seem to mind the bleakness of their surroundings and in the late spring and summer, when more visible signs of life appear, they venture out of their weather-beaten trailer homes and spend a great deal of time just soaking in the smell of the earth and the grass and the sweet scent of wildflowers carried on the wind.

But then summer becomes a busy time too. For there are only two months within which to plant and raise the few varieties of vegetables that can produce during the short growing season. Gardens and fields are tilled, planting is performed and great care is taken to insure that every advantage is given the young sprouts.

Far too quickly though, summer turns to fall and the tundra people harvest their food and store it beneath their homes and trailers in cellars that protect it from the bitter cold of winter. When the harvest is over and the cellars are stocked, the people wait for winter's biting winds to drive them back into their scanty quarters where they will wait it out once again.

What you may not know as you stand here on this late spring day in the Dream World, is that the tundra people did not build this brick building that once again stands next to me. They had never dreamed of having such a luxury as this in their world.

Nevertheless, some time ago a rich oil man came through their land and decided that it was exactly what they needed. He bought the land from the people of the village and commissioned the construction of this edifice at great expense to himself. It is unlikely that he could have had any idea, however, that this very structure would one day become a village shrine dedicated to the memory of the tundra-dwellers’ most significant mystical experiences.

But, regardless of the rich gentleman’s prescience, long after he departed from their midst the people of the tundra continued to show quiet appreciation to their generous benefactor. Every Saturday afternoon they would pay homage to his kindness by gathering in front of the building and participating in what had become a strange and yet purposeful ritual---a rite that in the most unforseen manner was soon to transform the lives of each and every one of them.

Though the wealthy man had intended that the people of the tundra use this building as a movie theater, a sudden illness and a decline in his oil reserves sapped his strength, both physical and financial. The result of this seemingly unfortunate turn of events was that the theater was never quite completed.

The building had walls and floors. It had ceilings, very comfortable seats and even a large white screen. The projector booth, in the all-but-completed theater, stood next to a vault full of wonderful old movies.

What the theater was missing, however, was a projector. Well, one that worked anyway. You see, projectors of the kind needed for a theater are complicated sophisticated machines. And no one in this particular part of the world knew how to set such a contraption up.

The oil man was to have flown a specialist in to get the projector running and to train several of the local folk how to operate it. But, when no one showed up, a few of the more mechanically-adept of the village tried as best they could to get the projector running. To their dismay and in spite of all of their efforts, the machine kept eating the films it was supposed to be showing.

As a result, for several weeks the tundra dwellers would show up on Saturday afternoons and just hang around outside the theater hoping that things would change---that somehow the projector would magically begin functioning properly.

Then one Saturday, for no particular reason, the people decided to file into the theater. Before anyone really gave it much thought, they were all sitting in the velvet-covered seats with expectant looks upon their faces.

While no one was quite sure what to do next, somebody eventually fired up the popcorn maker. Before long, cups of warm buttered popcorn adorned the laps of the pitifully forlorn moviegoers. This rather empty ritual continued in the same fashion for some time.

Somewhere along the line, they say five or six months down the road, though I think it must have been sooner, someone decided to turn the old projector on. Perhaps it was with the hope that after all this time, the stubborn machine would finally work. Or maybe it was just to hear the sound of its sprockets and chains, or to see light pouring through the equipment’s big lens.

Whatever the reason, everyone seemed to enjoy the process. For several hours they would sit watching the screen, apparently pretending that a movie was playing. It is possible, I suppose, that the tundra people actually did see something or perhaps heard old movies in their heads, for they would remain transfixed for hours staring into the blankness. It was truly an unusual sight.

Sometimes laughter would erupt from the theater---simultaneous laughter that was accompanied by hearty knee slapping. At other times sobs and sniffling were plentiful in the darkened room. Much of the time though it was quiet and the only sound one could hear was the noise of the projector chains clanking as the machine threw out its eerie light on the large white screen.

When several hours had passed someone would turn the projector off. With a sense of accomplishment everyone would file out of the theater and go to their homes, seemingly content with their participation in the communal rites.

Some say they would sit at home, as families, sharing their thoughts about the movie they had just seen. Others tell that the old folks would wink at the youngsters, as if to signal to them that they had all engaged in something very special.

As those unusually memorable moments transpired, however, no one could have foreseen the progression of troubling and then magical events that would next unfold. Such earthshattering life changes, after all, are seldom anticipated (and even less often seen for the eventual blessings they may bring forth).

Nonetheless, the world of the tundra people was about to take a strange turn. And as for me, the dreamer whose mind in which this tale seemed to be involuntarily unfolding, I was soon to discover hidden aspects of my own self that I would never have had the courage to unearth in my waking hours.

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CHAPTER TWO

No one knew quite where he came from or how he got into the building to set up shop. (The old mayor of the village had the only keys to the theater and he gave them out to absolutely no one). Nevertheless, one Saturday when everyone arrived to watch the imaginary movie, there was a new concessionaire in the theater.

Way up in the back, just to the right of the projector booth, the bold new entrepreneur had constructed a crude cage made of wood and chicken wire. From inside the pen a tired malnourished reindeer peered out helplessly. His matted coat looked like a worn-out rug and his big soulful eyes were brimming with the look of fear and torture.

Just behind the makeshift cage was the ticket booth for this strange and cruel concession. Inhabiting the stand was a husky wild-eyed man who appeared to be in his mid-forties.

Curly red hair crawled out from under the stranger’s brown woolen cap like a tangled mop. An unkempt beard hung down, nearly touching his protruding stomach. The brutish intruder’s hulking frame was covered by a pair of faded overalls. Beneath them hid a soiled T-shirt that was full of gaping holes. One could say he was not exactly a sight for sore eyes.

As the crowd noticed him, they began to gather around whispering their curiosities to one another. Their questions, however, were soon answered as the large man let loose with a holler.

“Reindeer rides, five dollars! If you can stay on, I'll give you ten dollars back!” he yelled.

The tundra people stared in amazement at this crude new visitor.

“Think you can stay on him?” the concessionaire shouted.

No one quite understood how this poor half-starved animal could be such a challenge. But just then their would-be friend answered their query.

“Watch this!” he bellowed.

To the tundra people's horror, they heard the crack of an electric cattle prod as it touched the trembling reindeer's flanks. From the size of its power cord, the prod was capable of unleashing a hefty shock. The startled reindeer proved it to be so.

As the brutalized animal jumped, it began a series of convulsing hops that made the tundra people shudder. A discolored rope squeezed the poor creature's neck keeping him within several feet of a sturdy wooden post to which he was tied.

Each time the imprisoned animal reached the end of the rope, the cruel restraint would mockingly yank him back, nearly causing his legs to collapse beneath him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the reindeer stopped. The creature’s terrified eyes bulged with fear as its exhausted body heaved in an attempt to recapture a breath.

“How can you do such a thing?” a woman cried.

Cruel laughter rolled from the torturer's lips. His laughing continued as several of the men spoke up.

“We don't know who you are or what you're up to, but you can pack up your things and leave, now!”

An incensed woman added her rebuff. “We don't allow such cruelty here.” Then seized with morbid curiosity, she asked, “Besides, what can you possibly have against this poor defenseless creature?”

“Poor defenseless creature?” the huge man moaned. “He nearly gouged my eyeballs out last week.”

“What kind of person are you?” another woman growled. “I'd gouge your eyes out too if you treated me that way.”

“It's not important who or what I am,” shouted the intruder in response. “All you need to know is that I'm here to stay till somebody rides this stinking reindeer without falling off.”

His menacing eyes searched for a willing rider. “What's wrong? Are you all cowards?” he challenged. But no one responded.

More than a little satisfied with his taunting, the big man issued a solemn warning. “If you think you’re getting me out of here, think again! Because the first time somebody tries anything, I KILL THE REINDEER!”

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CHAPTER THREE
The Reindeer Boy

Weeks went by, but no one knew what to do about the cruel concessionaire. Several times in the dark of night some of the men snuck into the theater in hopes of catching their unwanted visitor off guard. But to their surprise he was nowhere to be found. You see, mysterious as it might seem, the ruthless keeper and his captive were only there on Saturday afternoons when the people came to see their imaginary movies.

As one would expect, the villagers tried to stay away from their once-loved movie house altogether. Much to their chagrin, however, each Saturday they found themselves at the theater wondering what strange and bewildering power had seemingly brought them there against their will.

What once had been a friendly ritual among neighbors was now a nightmare of torturous rites for the sickly reindeer and themselves. And though their salvation was imminent, the people had no sense of its coming. Instead, desperation filled their minds until it gradually drained the last ounces of their waning hope.

Nevertheless, it was on the 14th of June that a great and unexpected happening occurred. I am sure of the date, for it is recorded in the History of the Tundra People.

As the sadistic captor barked out his weekly cry for volunteers, a mysteriously intent young boy stepped forward. He appeared to be no more than ten years of age and spoke no words at all. Instead, he simply pointed at the reindeer.

“You want to ride him?” the animal's keeper said mockingly. The boy nodded his head quietly.

“Where's yer five bucks?” the man complained.

Eyeing the gruff concessionaire with a peculiar confidence, the young boy held up a single gold coin.

In a flash the man snapped it up with his pudgy fingers and began examining it greedily. “This ought to be worth a few good rides,” he said with a sneer. Then, as a sinister look flashed across his face, he scoffed. “Definitely be a show to remember.”

Unfazed by the bravado of the reindeer’s captor, the young lad walked into the cage and pulled his long dark hair back, away from his face. As he did so, some of the spectators let out an audible gasp. It seems that the radiance emanating from the boy’s deep brown eyes was so peaceful that it had actually taken their breath away. In stark contrast, his clothes were tattered and worn and he wore no shoes upon his feet.

“Whose child is that?” a woman questioned.

“I've never seen him before,” another answered.

Whispered words traveled quickly through the crowd. “First this awful man appears and now a child whose courage has amazed us all. Surely there is magic in the air.”

But at that very moment, a hush fell over the crowd. For as the boy approached the reindeer, the poor creature began trembling. Slowly, without uttering a word, the boy reached out and gently stroked the animal’s fear-stricken face. His compassion brought a lump to the throats of the tundra people for they had longed to comfort the poor animal as well.

Then, with resolute determination, the young waif climbed onto the reindeer's back, patting the animal’s flanks reassuringly. As he was doing so, the scheming concessionaire slyly cut the rope that tethered the animal to the wooden post. Then, before the boy was fully settled into place, the big man put the prod squarely to the animal's side.

A great beller erupted from the reindeer's throat as it catapulted into the air. The surprised boy clung to the frightened animal’s hair with all his might. Even so, his wiry body was thrown about wildly on the creature’s back as it desperately dashed about.

The keeper's eyes were alive with anticipation for he knew he had caught the child off guard. The outcome was inevitable and as expected, with one mighty convulsion the reindeer sent the boy sailing through the air. Accompanied by the sound of a great distressing thud, the youngster collided with the brick wall at the far end of the cage.

There was silence for a moment. Then several women began to weep. The sound of their crying, however, was immediately overshadowed by the boisterous laughter of the concessionaire.

“Are you dead or just maimed my scrawny little friend?” There was a horrid look of delight in the cruel man's eyes.

As the ragged little shape began to move, the tundra people gave a sigh of relief. Slowly, the boy pulled himself up against the wall.

His nemesis continued to taunt him. “Will that be enough, or would you like another ride on my baby's back?”

Though the child spoke no words, the steadfast look in his eyes made the young boy’s reply evident. As he moved toward the animal for another ride, a cut on his forehead sent blood trickling through his thick dark hair.

Once again the boy stroked the reindeer's face and looked compassionately into its sad eyes. Then, without further hesitation, he pulled himself up on the animal's back and signaled that he was ready.

As the crack of the prod echoed again, the groaning reindeer leaped into motion. Spinning in a great and painful gyration, the exhausted creature stumbled and fell to the floor, throwing the boy to the ground with great force.

“STOP!” yelled a man. “This is madness. We can’t allow it to go on any further.” Others in the crowd began to echo his cries.

But, in a demonstration of rare courage or perhaps undaunted purpose, the young boy arose once more. Amidst the weeping angry cries of the crowd, he knelt by the reindeer's head and stroked its fur, gazing deeply into the wounded creature's eyes.

The concessionaire shouted above the crowd with a voice that was full of cruelty. “One last ride! I challenge you to one last ride, little reindeer boy!”

The boy turned and looked with unusual compassion upon the enormous man. Then, without a trace of fear, the child opened his mouth and uttered the first words anyone had heard him speak.

“If I ride him without falling off, will you release him to me?” His voice was steady and sure. There was a quality, a certain tone about it that was far wiser than a boy his age.

“Release him?” hollered the man. “Why should I release him?”

“It will be my reward,” answered the youngster. “Are you afraid I will win?”

“Never!” the belligerent keeper answered with an air of insult. “You will never win!” Then, with eyes full of fire, he focused his full intensity on the boy. “I accept your challenge, little urchin. But...” The large man grinned. “There is one condition.”

“What is that?” the boy questioned.

“If you lose, you must kill him!” he shouted, pointing his large finger threateningly at the young waif.

A moment of hushed silence passed and then the child answered unwaveringly. “I accept.”

As the lad helped the animal to its feet, he whispered something in its ear. The crowd began to murmur. “What did he say? What did he tell the reindeer?” No one knew.

The boy sat proudly poised on the reindeer's back for this last desperate ride. Filled with quiet resolution, he gave his challenger the nod. At the boy’s sign, the brutal man rammed the electric prod into the reindeer's flanks with a crack that made even the strongest heart quiver.

The beleaguered reindeer jumped with the jolt of the shock and then, as before, he began to stumble. Whirling out of control, the creature careened from side to side, gasping from exhaustion.

Just when it appeared the reindeer would fall to its knees, his tormentor hit him with the prod again, this time in the chest. The act of wanton cruelty sent a murmur of anger through the crowd. In his own frustrated fit of anguish, the pitiful animal reared up unintentionally causing the boy to lurch backwards and nearly lose his grip.

Then, having seemingly succumbed to the concessionaire’s spell, the half-crazed reindeer spun dizzily in circles, faster and faster until everyone was certain the boy would be thrown off.

But much to their amazement, in what was an act of sheer beauty mingled with madness, the young rider let go of the reindeer's coat and held his hands high above his head.

For a sparkling mystical moment, the reindeer and the boy continued to spin in what appeared to be slow motion. Finally, as they came to a stop, a look of calmness spread across the animal’s once-tortured face.

As the crowd began to cheer, the outraged keeper rushed at the duo again with his prod.

“STOP!” This time the command came from the boy.

To the big man’s own surprise, he obeyed. And with questions flooding through his malicious mind he stood silently marveling at the audacity of this young victor.

“It is over now,” the boy explained. “The contest is over. The reindeer is free!”

An enormous shout of joy went up from the crowd as the tundra people began tearing through the wire cage. Within seconds they surrounded the boy and the deer. And then, amidst much celebration, they led the two champions out of the theater and into a nearby field.

“What will you do with your prize?” shouted one of the villagers. “Will he carry you to your home?”

“No,” answered the boy. “He will carry me to his home where he will rejoin his herd. He is a king among his own. He is their leader.”

Some of the people stood with open-mouthed amazement while others simply smiled a knowing smile. Then together, arm-in-arm, the grateful villagers watched the boy ride the newly-freed reindeer across the gentle green of the soon-to-be summer tundra.

It was not until the lad disappeared over the horizon that the tundra-folk began to ask the whereabouts of the concessionaire. When they returned to find him, however, there was no trace of his having been there. No wood from the cage, not even a speck of straw from the floor.

While most were deeply puzzled, some were not surprised at all. For it was these few who had truly known, that indeed, there was magic in the air!

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CHAPTER FOUR
A Hero's Welcome

It happened on a Saturday in August when all of the tundra people were filing out of the theater. Life had returned to normal and together as a community they were experiencing the joy of their communal theater rite. Now, however, it carried even more meaning. For since the day of their miraculous deliverance, there was a sense of grace and renewal that each townsperson felt within their soul as they sat in the theater.

But on this particular day, one as unsuspecting as any other, the tundra people's lives would again be changed forever. For on this day of days, the Reindeer Boy returned.

They say it was one of the children who spotted him first, out near the horizon walking alone against the hazy tundra sky. “It's him!” a woman cried in response to her child’s pointing. And with much clamoring the people ran out to meet the Boy.

Tears ran down faces and emotions were high as the tundra people surrounded their little savior. “We thought you would never return,” they said to him.

He smiled a child's smile and patted their heads as they lifted him onto their shoulders and carried him in a great procession into their village square.

“You must eat,” a mother said. “Surely you’ve been walking for days.” The Reindeer Boy nodded his head and looked deep into the hearts of the tundra people. At that moment they felt a burning within their souls for it seemed he had touched the very core of their beings with his knowing eyes.

Then the people took him and placed him on a platform and said, “Speak to us, O Powerful One.”

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The story, of course, goes on. And as one reviewer stated, "I was enchanted and intrigued with the story's beginnings, but as I continued on, into the rest of the book, I found that the characters became even more fascinating, and that the wisdom conveyed by the Reindeer Boy was truly wisdom for the ages."

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