Dead Dog's Tale

I first heard about him while I was in Las Cruces. An old Apache knife fighter and Brujo, still honing his edge and blooding his hands in the desert. Based on a rumor, I spent a week trekking up and down the Rio Grande searching for him but learned from his friend in Mesilla I'd missed by a few months. It was in Lordsburg I caught up with him, a short and round man with eight or nine rattlesnake heads circling his hat band.  He flatly denied he was who I was looking for. I wasn't buying it, so I lunged at him after a couple more protests that I should go away. He had a knife as fast as a rattlesnake's strike, the tip pressing firmly into the skin under my chin. I smiled as he rolled his eyes. He'd blown his cover.  That evening, we shared a pack of Pall Malls and a 12-pack of Modelo in the alley behind his house as candles to Jesus Malverde and Saint Jude flickered in the darkening shadows. We told stories about hunting down our common enemy when he stopped abruptly. &q

I began dreaming of an experience I had more than thirty years ago. I never forgot what happened, but when I recall memories, they were ephemeral, like grasping smoke, and I would quickly forget again. However, since the dreams began, my memories of the experience are becoming more concrete. I want to further solidify the experience for myself and see, on the off-hand chance, if anyone else has information that could assist me in resolving these events. This occurred at Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, California, in the summer of 1986. My family had access to a vacation cabin there. We stayed a week. But none of that really matters concerning the experience...as far as I remember.  I was swimming in Big Bear Lake. I remember the lake was busy. Tiny islands, rocky outcroppings, and hidden coves dot Big Bear Lake. I liked adventuring and swimming alone, so I headed to the out-of-way outcroppings. In 1986, I was hyper-fixated on dinosaurs. I regularly imagined slipping back into time through a