Light

Did you ever wake from a dream and feel weightless? Filled with so much contentment and joy that you could just drift into the atmosphere? I did once.

In the dream, as though it were a movie, we are flying over a green prairie set against a perfectly blue sky. We come to a small oasis of forest. There I sit, lotus style, across from an older woman dressed entirely in white. Her head is covered with a bee keepers hat so that I cannot make out the features of her face. I simply know that she is kind. Without words, she tells my to close my eyes. Around us all of the plants burst into bloom, and each flower is brilliantly white. Once the blossoms are opened full, they skip off the branches and turn into millions of little butterflies. I can feel their wings brush against my face as I wake up.

I was 17, and in the throes of adolescent turmoil. This vision calmed me in a way I can't even describe. Even now, all I have to do is conjure up a memory of this dream and my mind grows still.

Last night I had a similar dream. Only this time, instead of an old woman, I was with Lucy. We were walking in a walled garden, and although she wasn't much older than she is now, we were talking. Actually, we weren't talking, we were thinking. But we could hear each other's thoughts. There was a flagstone path through this garden, and flowers of every color were carpeting the ground. As we walked by, I held her in my arms. With each step, the flowers closest to us seemed to glow and pulsate, and the colors would jump onto Lucy's cheeks. When she laughed, a veritable rainbow came out of her tiny mouth. She asked me what these wonderful things were called, but I couldn't name them. She suggested we call them beauties, and then she stroked my cheek.

When I saw her first thing this morning, my eyes filled with tears. Somehow I think the two dreams are related, but I can't yet make the connection. Instead of fighting to find the meaning, I think I will just relish in the peace this dream delivered to me.