At 9 A.M., I awoke with this coaching dream:

Someone gave me a gift. I pull apart the tissue paper and discover a large folded rectangle of peach cloth, my favorite color. I shake it out. In my hands, it becomes a belted leisure gown, something that Mother would have enjoyed wearing in the 1930s when it was fashionable. Later, my brother Mark joins me and explains the artistic significance of the designs woven into the luscious fabric. I’m touched.

This view into my personal unconscious heartens me. The Someone suggests Creator God, giver of all gifts wanting the best for me, even to the color of the garment, peach, a blend of orange, yellow, and white that symbolizes the divine feminine.

The belted leisure gown speaks of change, given my aging and illness and less need to adhere to my daily routine of self-care. Fit in what is possible—the essentials—and let everything else go; they’ve served me well, together with two years of on-going hospice care. My body has special needs now, and my Dreamer has dressed me comfortably in a garment that enhances my wounded femininity.

The memory of Mother in the dream recalls her love for the color peach. As a young married woman and unable to afford a form-fitting crocheted dress, the fashion at that time, she bought a pattern book and made one on her own, in peach, with long sleeves and calf-length skirt. When home alone as a child, I used to open the cedar chest in her closet, pull out that dress, and put it on—it never fit.

And my brother Mark’s expertise that informed me of the garment’s added interest speaks to my undeveloped interest for the arts, thwarted by poor health. In the dream, I was glad for his company. He just showed up.

My gratitude for my Dreamer’s coaching continues encouraging me as I trek, alone, toward my eternal destiny. It is working out …