At 6 A. M., I awoke with this uplifting dream: 

It is evening. I stop by the recovery center and discover it vacated, in disorder: ashtrays filled with cigarette and cigar butts, food remnants spoiling on plates and bowls, magazines and silverware strewn on the floor, armchairs pulled from tables stained with water and carved initials, rain splatting window sills, damp carpet beginning to smell. On my own, I decide to clean up the place and locate a bucket, mops, rags, and cleaning agents near the kitchen. Not sure where everything goes, I’ll have to guess. Later, everything is in order. I’m proud of my work and return home.

Again, in the dream, energetic and strong, I find myself in the foyer of the recovery center; its depths prod me to the disorder therein, shadow material, of which I’m unaware: pride, anger, greed, and envy, in all its expressions; shadow material triggered by others. On my own, I remain largely content. Since no one is around to help with this Herculean task, it’s up to me to remedy this deplorable situation.

But my discovery of tools: a bucket, mops, rags, and cleaning agents, near the kitchen, evidence an invisible helper—Perhaps the kitchen’s fire that animates my labor. Strange that I seem to know what to tackle next and do so.

The resulting shine within the recovery center, a sacred place of healing,will greet its guests in the morrow. I’m proud of my work.

This blog’s contrast with “The Unsettling Dream” of a few days ago suggests my fickleness in fully embracing the gentle discipline of the arduous path opening before of me—More correction for which I’m grateful.