Loong jai (โล่งใจ – to feel relieved)

Chapter Twenty-Four

It sounds crazy, but I have been experiencing visions, dreams or mental images of things that have come true. There was a broad range from simple to complex, scary to pleasant, and discouraging to hopeful. It began after birthday number twenty-two. I would wake up from a recurring dream where an Air Force buddy's automobile would be rammed by a humongous bull. The incident would happen in front of Bob's Barber Buzz. The nightmare woke me up half a dozen times, then it invaded my daytime thoughts.

A couple of weeks had passed. I was riding to the grocery store with my buddy to purchase some snack items and cokes. We were on our way back to the dorm. In the parking area a very large brown bull was snorting and kicking up dirt with his front hooves. The animal plunged at the vehicle's front door on the driver's side, shaking the entire bright red car. No one was injured, but it caved in the side of his1966 Ford Mustang. Looking out the window had me staring at Bob's Barber Buzz.

I had a clear revelation when Malsa rejected my proposal and Angie booted me out of the house. The prediction both times pictured me scurrying like a squirrel from place to place. The exposure that was endured by me flying to Texas and Illinois, riding in my friend's sedan to St. Louis and returning to Chiang Mia found me frustrated and exhausted. None of these things surprised me, because of the prophetic exposure that shocked my mind ahead of time.

A pensive eye opener gave me a heads up on the invasion of Rufus' farm by the PH gang and later the appeal from Doug and Sangdoaw attempting to make recompense for his past transgressions. It was revealed that the attempted kidnapping would happen at Bobby and Dawkmymy's home, and I was able to get with General John and notify him of what was about to transpire. He had not taken down the security cameras or recalled the guards, and came to respond before he had received the phone call.

John had affirmed that his aunts, several of his cousins and he had the gift of seeing. He maintained the visions were at all times clear, but the way they were interpreted was not always transparent. His relatives would confer with one another to get a clearer understanding of what they foresaw. They would share their prediction by holding hands and focusing on the others apparitions. That would generate an apparent interpretation of what was seen.

I shared with John my current view on an upcoming fight sending chills through my body. Somehow my vision was of a Northern Laotian, who was really a Chinese Kung Fu Grand Champion. The fighter was a renegade Shaman Mystic from a small religious sect in the Southwestern region of China. The traitor had two accomplices firing weapons at Angie and me. I collapsed out of the ring and Angie dropped to the floor. Both of us were lifeless and not moving. "What can we do?"

"We can meet with other seers, and determine the clarity of your vision. Let's arrange a time and place."

"Okay, will you make the arrangements for me?"

"No problem, I'll make a few phone calls."

John called me the next day, and said, "The meeting will be at Dawkmymy and Bobby's house at 1900 hours."

Ling Noy Tingkee (สงกรานต์ – Little Monkey) was there with her husband James L. Matthews. Nang Chom (นางชม – Passion Flower) was present at the table as well as Jerry Lee Lockhart, her husband. Four aunts were in attendance: Cindaa (จินดา – Precious Stone,) Na Sooy (หน้าสวย - Beautiful Face,) Nook (นก – Bird,) and Luk Maew (ลูกแมว – Kitten.)

Dawkmymy and Bobby greeted each one at the door. Finally, Angie and I emerged among the gathering.

Cindaa, the oldest in the group, instructed us to sit at the table and join hands. All of a sudden, a chill attacked us. Our trembling arms rattled the table. A clear vision of the Chinese fighter appeared. He was over three meters (ten feet) tall. Someone whispered the name (ยักษ์ชั่วร้าย – evil giant.) He was fighting nine seasoned fighters. All of them ended up knocked out on the mat.

As the repetitive first scene of him fighting me came into view, my focus became foggy and random. There was no place to hide, no running was safe. The ring disappeared. I was rushing down a desolate dirt road. The evil giant was getting closer. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. The heat increased, pushing me to the ground. The night warmness was pulsating. His shadow overtook my speed. I could not think of a way to overpower the depraved Goliath. My face was being flooded. Upon awaking I found Dog's front paws on my shoulders while slurping my face.

Dawkmymy stated, "Just because you two were not moving does not mean you were killed. There was no blood. Dog licking your face, and you waking up was a sign that you lived through it. Most of the time our fears are bigger than reality."

The simple solution supplied from the seeing was that there are only a few sufficient styles to sling a stone between the monster's eyes - none of which were allowed by normal boxing techniques. I might lose the battle. The fate of a failed fight had never been a consideration. My focal feature was faint and formed by fright. How was I going to free up my mind to find a final solution?

The day of the fight arrived. The parking and grassy areas around the Regal Garments Coop were filled. All parking within five kilometers was taken. Tuk Tuks were the only vehicles able to maneuver in the traffic. The word from the Chiang Mai news media was, "Chinese Giant to Face Champion of The Free World - Ben Crossman." Of course, the Chinese version was, "The Great Chinese Defender to Whip foul Western Devil."

I spotted Doug and Sangdoaw among the spectators. She had their baby in her arms. He was holding the bottle as little Pudd Fi sucked from it. I came close to smiling as the pleased parents coddled their child. A calmness came over me, and the tension that usually drained me faded. I knew something majestic would transform the Paisley family.

Each side had its fans and rivals. As expected, Thai intelligence agents were on the job. Security was tight. The fervor of the crowd was positive, but could turn nasty in less than a minute. Each round would be three minutes, but no limit to the number of rounds. Only a knock out or a Khun Pen Lak (You are the master, or I give up) would declare the loser or winner.

The crowd went ecstatic as I entered the ring. Their applause and cheers were thunderous. A few boos and a loud gasp was emitted from the mass assembly as Yaks Chuaw Rai came into the arena. The man was massive. He was two and an eighth meters (seven feet) tall, but he was twice as wide as me. His muscles rippled with muscles.

Angie's face went pale. Her eyes were pleading with me to stop the fight before I was hurt. I exhibited no fear, but the desire to run plagued my thoughts.

I extended a Thai wye, and he grunted and nodded his head. Yaks looked like he was mad at the world, especially me. The referee said, "Shake hands and come out fighting." My hand went out. He slapped it away and attempted to power punch me. My conditioned reflex, permitted me to tilt my head to the left two inches. His thrust missed me by less than an eighth of an inch. The force of a storm whipped wind whacked me as his fist passed by my nose.

Yaks rapidly fired kicks and hits in my direction. A few blows struck their target in the abdomen, chest and right arm. One bash settled on my jaw. I heard chimes as it settled underneath my left eye. My mind went blank. Blackness overtook me. The next thrust cleared near my ear and right eye propelling me out of the ring.

My body slammed down on Angie causing her and the folding chair to collapse to the floor. We were both motionless for about two seconds.

The count was shrilled into my head as each number echoed, "Three, four, five, six." My left eye opened on number seven then closed. Eight found me holding onto the ropes and flipping into the ring. The referee waved his hand in front of me. The spectators gave a thunderous gulp when it was evident that my sight was beaten closed.

Yaks put his hands on his hips and was laughing louder than the roar of the viewers. I did a double handspring and jolted him on the nose. Blood was trickling down his face and belly as he stumbled backwards and tumbled out of the fighting area on top of his accomplices. Each accidently fired a shot into Yaks' chest. All three of them were in slumber-land. Thai intelligence agents had cuffed them immediately.

My ability to see was still messed up. Angie had joined me in the ring and was hugging me tightly. I took a single step and tripped on top of a soft woolly pillow. The cushion began to move under me and was hovering over my shoulders licking my upper head. Dog's licks helped. The swelling retreated, and my eyelids opened as Dog sloshed my eyes with his laps. I was helped up by General John. The referee held up my right arm and declared me the winner by a knock out from a kick to the nose.

One would have thought that a meter (three feet) was added to my height as I strutted and flipped across the ring. I was the recipient of the calmness that comes after a tornado. Reflections of fulfillment absorbed my attention.

Angie and I embraced each other full of love. Dog had his front paws on my shoulders. Lilly hugged the three of us. The crowd howled with laughter. The television crew concentrated on us as today's events were winding down.

We were beyond happy and filled with kwam singob (ความสงบ – peace.) Tension from the fight evaporated. My muscles were weak, but I was full of energy. My reflections were scattered. The temple on my right side was throbbing gently. The feeling that it was possible to walk on water inundated my core.