You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Middle East’ tag.

At 1:15 A.M., I awoke with this spirited dream:

Alone and in full health, I’m traveling through the Middle East. As I approach the outskirts of a dusty village, an old man with a serene countenance approaches me. On his forearm he carries something colorful. He tells me of tonight’s festival in the square with the fountain; then, invites me to come—Even has a long dress for me to wear so I’ll fit in with everyone.

Later as I stand before the mirror in my hotel room, I discover that the long dress with scoop neck and short sleeves fits perfectly; its hem stitched with tiny brass bells jingle with my movements. I smooth my hand over the coarse fabric, then trace my finger around swirls of vibrant reds, whites, blacks, and turquoises. My shell jewelry and sandals complement my new dress.

That evening, I walk to the square and join the dancing, already underway. Laughter tickles every cell in my body.

This dream speaks of wholeness, adventure, and relationship: wholeness in my robust health; adventure in the exploration of unknown worlds; and relationship in my socialization with others. Introducing me to such experiences is an old man who seems to have been watching for my arrival. He knows what I need for further spiritual maturation: dancing, in the sense of deeper communion with Higher Power, on my way through end time.

He also knows my need for proper apparel to fully benefit from the festivities planned for later and provides accordingly. My reflection in the mirror stuns me, perhaps like the guests attired for the wedding feast in one of Jesus’s parables.

Such dreams hearten me …

Last night at 10:30, coughing interrupted this dream:

I’m inside an antiquity museum in a Middle Eastern country. A native guide points out the features of the Tree of Jesse, a ceiling-to-floor hand-woven wall hanging, striking for its varied colors of blue. No other tourists are around.

At 7:15 this morning, I made myself open my eyes, despite being deliciously swaddled in effervescent-love. I tingled all over, yet had no recall of the supporting story. From the kitchen came the aroma of simmering quinoa, my breakfast, in the works by my helper. Also astounding was the night of uninterrupted sleep that did nothing for my chronic exhaustion that hangs like widow’s weeds around my psyche.

Yet, the first dream filled me with awe: it felt like I was standing on holy ground, supported by pregnant silence rejoicing in unseen harmonies. The blues of the wall hanging soothed me. At the same time, the guide’s identification of Jesus’s forebears perched upon limbs of the Tree of Jesse quickened me. It felt like I had entered the O Antiphon, Root of Jesse, and again heard its plea:

Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

And the memory of this morning’s experience still lingers in my psyche: no unmet needs, communion with HP, joy beyond telling—perhaps a foretaste of eternal life; perhaps also an assuagement of recent grief as well as a reminder that suffering is the usual precedent before transition. There are few exceptions.  

So again grounded in the present, I wait and pray with everyone else …

Available on Amazon

%d bloggers like this: