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It was clearly my intent to honor my fatigue and cut back on the frequency of my blogs, but my Dreamer had other designs. At 1:30 a.m., this dream pulled me from deep sleep; it would be worked with. Since it’s about obedience of the heart, here goes:

 I’m at the airport. In a bin, I spot a large plastic sack filled with multi-colored crocheted yarn squares that the deceased Betty Savard had worked on, intending to join them into an afghan. I retrieve the sack and will restore it to her family.

 Airports suggest places of departure and certainly reference my present circumstances: homebound yet on the move, solitary yet with a different orientation to life. In the dream I’ve not boarded my flight, as there is more work to be completed.

The large bin, a container filled with unclaimed odds and ends left behind by other passengers and later found by airport employees, suggests my unconscious. And Betty Savard, a gifted seamstress and friend, was devoted to her life, not without hardships.

My discovery of the multi-colored crocheted yarn squares is the nub of the dream: colorful pieces of my life still to be worked into a new whole. Since I do not know how to crochet, I’ll have to ask for help. And I will …

 

 

Grace is like ebony wetness seeping into the chinks of my terminal illness: This, too, must be transformed—and so it is, instant by instant.

 

 

 

From the depths of Silence stream compassion, forgiveness, and love.

Merry Christmas

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