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A week before he murdered his father, Ed dreamed of muddy water. It struck him as odd because the dream stuck with him long after he'd awaken, even now decades on he could recall the dream vividly. He'd been standing on a river bank, the sun was high overhead but he could smell the rain in the air and felt the dampness of the grass beneath his feet. He stood alone by the water's edge, the roar of it in his ears, a sound so different than any body of water he'd ever heard before. It sounded…angry. Angry and vengeful as if water could feel such a thing. Roaring as it ran along its banks, calling him to come closer. He didn't want to go, but his feet carried him anyway, closer and closer, to the water's edge. He stood looking over into the river bed, and earthy smell of the mud filled his nostrils and he felt like he could choke on it. Then for some reason he did not understand, he knelt down and put his hand down into the water, grit ran through his fingers and then something caught hold of him and pulled him in. As soon as he hit the water he woke up, breathing hard and heavy, kicking at the blankets. Even still there was a weight on his chest that made him feel like he was drowning. It had all felt so real.
Then on that fateful night, he stood on the dock, soaking wet and with rope burns on his hands, he thought about what his mother had told him, dreaming of water signaled change, upheaval. Dreaming of muddy water was an omen, not just change but turmoil. Even over the noise of the storm above him, he heard the roaring of an angry river and smelled the tang of earth.
-
The night before he met Israel Hands, Ed dreamed of a snake, with solid black skin and eyes that followed him everywhere. He was standing in the field by the river, the same one he'd dreamed of before. The grass had just been tall enough to hide the thing until he came upon it. He could recall being wary of the creature, wanting desperately to walk away, but his feet were glued to the ground beneath him. 'Kill it then, why don't you just kill it you coward,' he thought to himself, knowing he'd had a hard time killing anything these days. So he did nothing, instead he watched as the snake crawled toward him and for reasons he did not, could not fathom, he put his hand out for it. He watched as the snake struck, biting into his hand before crawling its way up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulders, hissing in his ear.
The next day Ed was sat in the corner of Spanish Jackie's when he was approached by a man who introduced himself as Izzy Hands. He remembered thinking that the man had to have some gumption because who in their right mind approached Blackbeard without being asked. He'd looked down at the hand that was offered to him and he took it, feeling an itch in his hand where the snake had bitten him and a chill behind his ear. He thought about the dream and what it could've meant, when he remembered one of the deckhands on Hornigold's ship saying that snakes were symbols of power and potency. He mindlessly rubbed over the nonexistent bitemark on his hand, his right hand. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made a deal with the devil.
"Fang!"
"Yes, boss?"
Ed nodded toward Izzy, "Show Mr. Hands here back to the ship, he's going to be our new First Mate."
He saw Fang's hesitance, so he glared back in response which discarded any questions the other man could have had, "Sure thing, boss."
"I'll be back soon, I've gotta see a man about a tattoo."
-
A week before he met Stede Bonnet, Ed dreamed of that river again. The same one he'd dreamed of before he killed his father. Except this time as he stood on the river bank and looked out over the water, it was clear. Calm and clear and flowing steadily. Nothing like the angry rapids that it had been all those years ago. There was no stench of mud permeating the air, instead it was replaced with something softer this time, more floral, like lavender. And when he finally stepped toward the water's edge, he could see something beneath the surface, glimmering like gold. He put his hand down into the water this time, and instead of something grabbing him and pulling him in further, he felt something touch his hand, soft like a kiss and then it was gone.
The next day when Izzy was complaining about some newcomer calling himself The Gentleman Pirate, Ed couldn't help but to be intrigued. He thought about the river, and how peaceful it had seemed and how tired he'd been and thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of change he'd been hoping for. So he ordered Izzy to follow the man, ordered Izzy to arrange a meeting.
A week later, when he finally laid eyes on Stede Bonnet, it was nowhere near peaceful. Laying waste to a Spanish ship, stepping through the smoke to find the man, dressed in white lying on the deck, delirious and near death.
"The Gentleman Pirate, I presume?"
"You've heard of me?"
"Oh yeah, I've heard all about you."
That's when Bonnet lost his battle with his consciousness, Ed knelt down to lift him up into his arms and through the smell of smoke and blood and sweat, Ed could smell lavender.
-
The night of Calypso's Birthday, after he'd fallen asleep, safe and warm tucked up against Stede, he'd hoped that maybe it would be a dreamless sleep and if not then maybe he'd dream of a replay of what had went down from the moment Stede pulled him into the Captain's cabin. Instead he found himself back on the river bank where he'd been so many times before. The sky was cloudy and the river itself was high, running rapidly but not roaring and the water was clear. He stood there watching the water run when he noticed there were bits of debris floating in it.
A piece washed up onto the bank next to his foot and he knelt down to examine it. It looked like it had been part of a clock, it was blackened with soot, but part of the face was still visible. He lifted it up out of the water and something fell out of the back. He saw swirls of red in the water then his eyes fell on the mutilated body of a snake…a black snake that was all too familiar to him. The snake he'd once assumed had been a symbol of power had only ended up being an omen just as ill as the river itself. The source of all the poison that had seeped into his veins and the venemous words hissed into his ear, now laid dead at his feet. He wanted to be sad, but couldn't help but to revel in the relief he felt as the weight lifted from his shoulders.
He woke the next morning feeling very strange. Happy, basking in the warmth and light that was Stede and the love he felt for him, but nervous all the same. Unmoored. The river meant change, upheaval, and now Ed would make the biggest change of all.