I am in a small house that I sense is mine. It's cozy, filled with books and plants and a large sunny kitchen. I am making some tea when the door opens and a man with a young girl comes in, asking for help. I am shocked speechless for a minute, and then am shocked some more becase I recognize him as my favorite author, Steve Donaldson! He looks more like he did back in the late 1980's, having shaved the beard he's recently been wearing. With that recognition, I am flooded with all sorts of emotions - love, guilt, pleasure - and quickly invite them to sit and be comfortable.
Steve and I begin talking and I ask him who the girl is. All he says is that "she's a god-sent angel", and with this I realize that she's his daughter. She's about 15, with long dark brown hair, tied plainly back, large dark eyes in a thin face. There's a serious look to her, and she immediately busies herself serving us, in spite of my objections. It gives her such pleasure to do this, that I do not object for long.
Our conversation continues about his books and he laughingly tells me that he's now finished writing, that a new passion has taken over, and while I can't truly understand it, I'm told it has something to do with large-scale gardening and cars. "I have one book that's being published soon, and that's the last one of the series, and also the last one, period. That's enough to last me", he tells me. I feel sadness hearing this, but as always, I find myself drawn to him, and recognize again that I love him so deeply that it transcends all time and space, that he doesn't need to know about it, but somehow that love is always around him, keeping him safe and secure.
I woke up at this point, with a strong ache in my heart, but also very happy at being able to spend any kind of time with him.
My dreams continue - there is something to do with a baby boy. Now I am in a very old fashioned apartment and it is full of people, much like an old-world family reunion with all the relatives. This little baby boy is the center of attention, being passed from one set of arms to another. Things grow fuzzy here, but I do recall saying that his diaper needs changing, and taking him away to do just that.
The scene shifts and now this apartment is much larger, and it's some years later. The little boy is now grown up into a toddler and once again the place is full of people. This time, there's a very festive atmosphere here, with a lot of streamers of bright colours (a birthday party, perhaps?). We all seem to be waiting for something major to happen, and suddenly, from one of the rooms, a parade begins - giant puppets, very oriental in design, begin marching through, led by someone who is familiar to me, but whom I can't immediately identify. Suddenly, I remember - it's Hoojung Jones, a Korean woman with whom I used to work and volunteer at the Hamilton Folk Arts Heritage Council!! She is dressed in brilliant red costume with a huge hat that's trimmed with gold and green.
Everyone in the apartment goes wild with applause and appreciation for this performance!
And then, again I woke up!
No comments:
Post a Comment