Kane the Stone Man

The evening before our family visited the Bishop Museum in Hawaii, I dreamt about him, the stone man. He spoke to me about his terminal isolation and yearning to share a life with someone. When I woke, the details of his story escaped me, but the emotions behind them pressed into my soul like a handprint. I pulled the comforter from my face and watched the ocean waves crash against the black lava from the hotel bed. I longed to hear sounds of the ocean, but my husband's snores drowned it out. I'd have to be content to watch the blue water dance beneath the morning light. Slowly, tracing the rise and fall of the waves with my eyes, the hollow ache beneath my ribs subsided.

As I rose to shower, the wall we shared with the next hotel room groaned with the sounds of pleasure; and as their pounding quickened, my cheeks turned pink with shame and jealousy. Yes, like the stone man from my dreams, I lived a lonely existence. I endured the eyes of a husband that looked through me when I passed, the ears of two children that no longer heard my voice when I spoke, none of them sensing the hunger behind my hugs that screamed, "Please just notice me. I'm right here. "

Later that afternoon at the museum, throngs of visitors–my husband and daughters included– rushed past me to explore the Hawaiian Hall. For once I didn't mind being left behind. I stood in the center of the room and looked around. The hall was a glorious spectacle, from the grand whale that hung above my head to the shimmering koa-clad interior to the vibrant island artwork, I felt inspired and alive.

There was a whispering in my ear, "Come to me. You are so close now." Startled, I glanced around but couldn't find the source of the strange voice. Then, cold air tickled my neck and arms and I knew it was Kane, the stone man from my dream. A shiver of expectation ran down my spine.

I found him easily, as if I'd traveled the path to that private nook a hundred times before. He stood alone at the end of a dimly-lit hall, his expression seemed strange in the lights that shone from the floor up the three feet of lava to his face. His eyes were uneven and cast dark shadows with a bottomless-pit quality to them. His nose was a triangle-shaped divot that reminded me of a jack o' lantern a child might carve. It was his mouth, his most prominent feature, that drew me closer. Not exactly a smile or a frown, it stretched across his face in a wide swoop. I closed my eyes and the impression of Kane's eyes and mouth throbbed behind my lids.

Stray visitors walked toward the stone man, inevitably they would shake their heads, rub their arms and back away. Yes, I understood that reaction, I did. But, even more than how Kane looked, maybe they sensed the longing that pulsed within the stone figure, how the stone man ached to be touched by human hands. Scared visitors mistook loneliness for something dark and sinister, so they fled from Kane. Not me, I wasn't afraid.

I noticed the sign posted on the wall behind Kane. It told the story of how he was found. A black and white photo, taken in Kawaihae on the island of Hawaii, showed him standing next to a native-born man named Wahinenui. Kane came to Wahinenui in a dream. In it, the stone man cried out to be discovered, dug up and brought into the sunshine again. He longed to be free of the constant cold and darkness that entombed him. Kane showed Wahinenui where to search, and the next morning, the man obeyed. A few years later, in 1909, Kane was brought to the Bishop Museum. He was displayed on the first floor of the Hawaiian Hall. Even during a major renovation, the sign explained, Kane refused to be moved or stored away, even when curators swore it was for his own protection, Kane stayed put.

In my periphery, I watched my family climb the steps to the second floor of the museum leaving me further behind. Part of me considered abandoning Kane to catch up, but Kane whispered to me, "Stay."  So I did; I took pictures of him with my phone, I read his story again and snapped a picture of the sign, too. I watched as visitors passed, shivered, frowned and moved away.