Dreaming of a Poem

 Detour

I took a long time getting here,
much of it wasted on wrong turns,
back roads riddled by ruts.
I had adventures
I never would have known
if I proceeded as the crow flies.
Super highways are so sure
of where they are going:
they arrive too soon.

A straight line isn’t always
the shortest distance
between two people.
Sometimes I act as though
I’m heading somewhere else
while, imperceptibly,
I narrow the gap between you and me.
I’m not sure I’ll ever
know the right way, but I don’t mind
getting lost now and then.
Maps don’t know everything.

~ Ruth Feldman (1911 -2003)

      

I woke from a dream this morning that I am pretty sure was inspired by this poem. Most Wednesday afternoons at  4, I meet on Zoom with two other people and we do lectio divina on a poem, and this week I read this poem. I love the whole process: the poem coming to me in one way or another, the time spent in short meditation, and our conversation afterwards.  It is a beautiful way to spend 45 minutes or so, and when we need to cancel for one reason or another, I miss it.  The traffic seems louder and the birds are more quiet. Poetry helps me hear the world's sounds as music, and I am grateful.  Others are welcome to join us! 

In the dream, I am gathered with several people I know. The room that is devoid of furniture. The walls are painted white, and we are pretty much just standing around and talking. A couple of people I hug because I have not seen them in quite awhile. Overall, it is a pleasant experience, if a little stilted. 

Somehow, some of us came to the conclusion that there was somewhere we needed to be. I remembered a street that I have dreamed about before, and I not only was certain we could get to where we needed to be, it would be enjoyable to walk up that street again. I assured this smaller group that the uphill climb is not as bad as it looks, and the neighborhood is interesting so there is always something to look at. We depart. 

When we get to the top of the hill, we see several  narrow passageways. I suggest that we take the winding hallway and stairs to the right. The hallway was  rather whimsical with color and different shapes and sizes, as were the stairs themselves. We continue to climb. We walk through a hallway with  rooms on both sides filled with fantastical furniture. There are no straight lines, and the rooms are open. There are no doors. Everything is painted in bold, beautiful colors. There are people in these rooms and they often smile and say hello. I am so happy, and I believe the others were having a good time as well, although someone would periodically ask, "Are you sure about this?"

We eventually get to the rooftop, but the stairs continue, not straight up, but rather lead us up and down through various open spaces on the roof. There are all sorts of people sitting on fancy couches or elaborate tables. We meet a young woman with very dark hair who tells us she is about to be married. She was wearing white, and some of the roof was painted white as well. She tells us how to return to the street. Again, we talk a path to the right, and we arrive at street level. The journey had been so wonderful, I actually felt a little let down. The street was quite linear and rather dull, but it was where we needed to be for now. While I knew, at least for now, that I could not go back,  I was certain I would again.  

This morning, I am grateful for that assurance.  

   

image: San Leandro, July 2023