I am not one to remember dreams nor be able to coherently describe them to others, but last night I was visited by a profound and meaningful dream which left me blessed and comforted. Here it is:
I am at a small community college. Walking down the hall, I hear the most beautiful angelic voice accompanied by violin emanating from a nearby recording studio. I listene intently, leaning on the door-frame of the studio entrance, realizing that this angelic voice is singing about the life and death of my dear friend Woody who was mercilessly gunned down in December of 2001. I weep as I listen to this song which pins me to the wall with its langorous beauty.
The music ending, I venture inside and meet a tall, bearded, and kind man (not unlike my former therapist) who apparently is the writer/producer. We hug, and he reminds me physically and energetically of Woody. He has made several unusual wooden flute-like instruments which he invites me to play, but urges me to first climb high up into a structure which he has built in the studio, a tower of natural wood which was quite easy to ascend. Perched at the top, I happily play one of the instruments and am overcome with peace. Mary then appears and takes my place, also playing the instrument, suspended in this perch high above the studio floor.
Before taking my leave, I approach a lovely and expansive altar at the side of the studio, leaving an offering of squash, potatos, and other fruit as a gift for my experience.