The Dream That Made Me Hear

Is there a full moon or something?

Because these dreams I am having…..when I awake, I’m not rested.  I spend the rest of the day seeking meaning.

Last night’s was no different.  In keeping with the “It’s not for me to lock the door to keep someone out” and yesterday’s thoughts about fear and comfort zones, my dream last night seems to be calling me out about fear and judging others.

I was on the fifth/sixth grade hall at my old elementary school.  (The repurposed building still stands and I see it at least twice a week.)  At one point I rushed into Mrs. C’s room.  I spent many happy days in there in the sixth grade learning about artists and diagramming sentences–two of my favorite things. (Yeah, I just admitted that.) But in my dream, I was afraid and begging Mrs. C to keep the door locked.  I never could get through to her the importance of that.  In the next moment I was in a room across the hall, the one I had fifth grade classes in.  Brightly lit, the room was filled with students who were trying to find a seat.  I sat down and started tucking my valuables away. I could hear people being loud in the hall, and then a tall angry female came in.  We were all afraid.  Okay, I was.  I can’t speak for anyone else because she was my only focus.  She was yelling and then I heard her words.  She told a story of dreams dashed.  Dreams that were really important and would have made a huge contribution to our world.  Her dreams were attainable but someone unjustly brushed her aside as not worthy, and all her chances were gone.  She was angry.

After hearing her story, I was angry for her.

Through my tears, I told her, choking up, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.  My heart hurts for you.”

And in that moment our eyes met.

And I was no longer afraid.

I had seen into her heart, and that made all the difference.

It has been on my heart today that we are all seeking the same things at some point in our lives.  To love and to be loved.  To dream and make those happen.  When we are not heard or we feel dismissed or our dreams are laughed at, the brokenness begins and that’s when the darkness can come in.  And it then has to be let out.  In any matter of ways.  Sometimes it’s worse than others.

Tonight I’m left wondering what my heart and my conscience are trying to tell me.  Whom do I need to listen to?  More importantly (and yes, I think there might be a distinction), whom do I need to let know that he or she has been heard?

May we all find make time to listen to someone–maybe someone we love or maybe someone we’ve only just met–and to let them know they’ve been heard.  It could make the difference between their anger and their turning things around.

Because when we hear another’s dream, another’s story, there is an invisible thread that joins us, that binds us.  And that thread is what will keep us from fearing another and remind us that we are all more alike than different.

Now I’m off to read with Captain Cooter at the debut of his book club on “his ship.”  And perhaps I might even drift off to sleep a little earlier and have totally irrelevant dreams.

Love to all.

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