During the shutdown, I had a dream in which Tyler and I walk through the double doors of a church. In waking life, I served this church for a time in the position of what the UCC calls a minister in covenant. In the dream I am in search of some needed paperwork. The main room is brightly lit, and in it are several long tables laden with food. People were sitting at these tables laughing, eating, and drinking. Many wave to us, and we are warmly greeted by my friend. She insists that we sit and have something to eat. Everyone seems so happy; we cannot resist. The dream came to a close when we sat down to join the festivities.
I was so struck by the vividness of the dream that I sent Kathie an email the next morning. She wrote back saying that once the pandemic would allow, the community was going to begin working on a new space for the congregation in an existing church. Much renovation would be needed, but she sounded very positive.
A week or so ago, I learned that Kathie was in the hospital after experiencing a severe stroke. This morning I learned that she passed last night. I hold her family and that community in my heart. Many of the members of that church have known her since she was a child. I feel their sadness as well as my own. To hold such sadness does not feel like a burden, but rather a gift. Unlike some gifts, I do not have to worry about where to put it, or what to do with it. It feels like it has had a place in me for a very long time. It gives me hope that maybe I am learning to love.
My friend Kim, who passed a few years ago, served this community, and that is how I initially became involved with them. When I first heard of Kathie's stroke, I felt Kim's presence so keenly. I do believe Kim guided, and is still guiding her friend in the process of letting this physical life go.
I recently had another dream that I believe is related. In the dream Tyler and I had just moved to another home. I walk into the backyard. I am surprised to be greeted by a young hippopotamus. He is so playful and affectionate that I cannot help not help but simply enjoy his company. At one point he trots over and opens his mouth as widely as he can. I then remember, with much concern, that this hippopotamus is going to grow into a very large creature. I know I am not prepared to tend to an animal that size. While he did not actually speak, I hear his encouragement not to worry. He knows he will eventually live in a zoo and he has no worries about that. I receive an image of a beautiful zoo with lots of water, rocks, and beautiful grounds. I am relieved and I am able to return to simply enjoy his frolicking.
On my walk earlier this week, I came across a give-away box. On the top was a huge book about dreams. I looked up hippopotamus, and was advised that it could be interpreted as a sign of something positive coming, something to be enjoyed in the moment.
This moment, while not particularly enjoyable, is positive for I am reminded that none of us will be in this physical form forever. I know Kathie and Kim are in a beautiful place, and I thank them for the light they continue to share. I also thank all of you.
photograph: San Leandro, October 2015
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