At 7:45 A. M, I awoke with this curious dream:

It is night. I’d spent the day in a great hall with a large mixed group of people who completed several important projects. Before leaving for our homes, a priest informs us that the archbishop wished to give us an ice cream bar. 

The night always symbolizes the end times that usher in darkness, the unknown. More than ever with the imperceptible increase in my symptoms, I move closer to the end time of this existence. With full consciousness, I still strive to adhere to my daily routine of self-care that include blogging and reading David McCullough’s John Adams (2004), and receiving the support of my helpers.

The great hall suggests my psyche’s unclutteredness, spaciousness, a place for working and playing. The large mixed group of people speaks of my harmonious energies dedicated to the completion of several important projects, symbolic of my ongoing purification, in preparation for my transition.

The priest, disguised as a messenger for the archbishop/God in disguise, announces our reward: ice cream bars: rich vanilla, coated with chocolate and pecans. They look yummy. At first, I avoid their milky softness and sugar, triggers for joint inflammations in my body. Then, I learn this is a different kind of treat:

As the psalmist proclaims, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

It’s true. My waiting continues …