Dream: Not Irish Enough

I was a young man in this dream. It was set in a medieval setting, but had elements of other time periods as well.
I lived in a small island town. The only way to get to and from the island was by ship. I owned a small boat to get from port to port, but I did not have a ship. I was unpopular on the island because I had only lived there a few years.

I was originally from Ireland, but I hadn't been there for many years. I had traveled for much of my life, which was very unusual for people in this day and age. People didn't trust me because I was a traveler, and because I was Irish.


One day I got warning that a hurricane was coming. A big one. It was supposed to arrive that day. No one bothered to tell me about it, so I did not have much time to prepare. Everyone was evacuating the island. I went from ship to ship asking for passage.
"Just like an Irishman," they said "Waiting until the last minute, then trying to live off of what others have worked hard to prepare."
No one let me on their ship, even though staying on the island meant death. "No Irish!" they shouted, when they saw me walk down their dock.

The last ship I approached was a strange ship to our ports. Traders, mostly likely. They were also preparing to evacuate and take their wares somewhere else. I asked for safe passage. The captain listened to me without speaking, glaring at me for an uncomfortably long time. "Where are you from, boyo? You don't have the look of these stuffy islanders." I was surprised to hear him speak with a strong southern Irish accent.
"Well," I told him, "I'm actually Irish."
The captain stared at me for a moment. I was afraid he was angry. Then he burst out laughing. "Hear that, lads? An Irishman!"

The entire crew, who I only just noticed standing around, laughed at me. I was no Irishman to them, that was apparent. The captain, when he could stop laughing at me long enough to speak, told me that he would take me the long route to the mainland, but they were going the long way in order to make a few stops at other islands, and I had to work for my passage.
I spent the next few weeks working hard on the ship. I had become a ship's joke in some ways. I never got to drink the strange alcoholic drink they all had with their supper
"I'm afraid you're not quite Irish enough for this one." they would say.

One day I saw one of the crewmen with a bow in his hand. He was the only one on deck, and he was practicing archery, the mast being the target. I could see that he was very skilled. I always had a gift for archery and I was itching to shoot again.
I asked him for a turn and he laughed at me. I was used to this reaction with just about anything I did on that ship. But I can see he wasn't against the idea. I impressed him with my first shot -a perfect bullseye on the mast-target. He became excited, obviously he had never met another skilled archer before.

He challenged me to a contest. We were close to an island now, and there were small birds sitting on the mast. There were four horizontal levels to the mast. Each of us had to shoot a bird on each level. The first one to miss, loses. (This part, of course, uses dream logic. Why wouldn't' the birds fly away after we killed the first one? lol)

A crowd started to gather as we shot. The men were laughing with me for the first time, rather than at me. A comradery started to build between myself and the archer. He respected my skill. I was bold enough to start making fun of him as well.

He missed his shot on the highest level. I told him that as the winner, I got to decide his fate. I told him he deserved a nice saltwater bath. I went towards him. He realized I was going to push him overboard, and yelled "Irishmen, To me!" The watching crewmen rushed forward to help him, but did not get there quick enough. I tipped the archer overboard into the warm ocean.
The men roared with laughter as the archer sputtered and cursed. He climbed back on board, laughing and furious. He said I wasn't done. I must take the shot, and if I miss it was a draw.

I took the shot, with all the men trying to distract me, the archer shaking water on me from his sopping clothes. I made the shot anyway, and the dead bird fell to the deck.
The archer came towards me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You deserve a reward for such shooting." he said.
"Irishmen, to me!" I yelled. The men rushed forward again, but this time they all grabbed hold of me and threw me overboard.

As I climbed back on board, they patted my back and handed me a jug of the drink I had yet to try. "You're Irish enough for us to like you, lad." One of them said, "But you weren't Irish enough to avoid a dunking."



I had this dream a few years ago, but I had another dream last night that reminded me of this one. Last nights dream just involved me being an Irishman on a ship. It reminded me that I had this one written down somewhere. I remember liking this dream.