Dreaming

He `elele ka moe na ke kanaka

A dream is a bearer of messages to man

For a girl who used to be afraid of her shadow, the Round One now finds herself in many places, and lives thousands of miles from the homeplace. Crossing the bridge of Serendipity I watched her step off into an exquisite landscape of DreamTime. The night was not passing comfortably. I watched her go through the rituals of healing that often work the magic of distraction, shifting the affects of a chemical that will not dislodge. Often Sal will methodically go from cure to cure in a night of pain, careful to keep from touching her dear Sam who lies beside her. She knows that some of these energy works are best completed without Sam's touch. No need to side-track the spend qi, sharing something that really just needs to be recycled. There are other nights when Sam's touch is the only cure, the elegant solution.

On this particular night though it was the Dream that offered Sal the comfort she sought. Sometimes the physical body is too dense to lift from a criss-crossed tangle of stimulation. I listened to her prayers after all the tools of comfort failed to ease her from the pain. She is a strong one to most people who see her, and through and through that is true. But, the vulnerable child that has a memory of being scared of her shadow is part of our Sal. Prayers helped the wee child when there were no others, tools or folk. This night I listened as Sally invoked the aid of those angels who never forget her, and know just where to take her for comfort.

The deep folds of the comforter quieted, her body still and she was on the other side of that bridge. A beautiful broad-branched plumeria grew in a yard lit with gentle light. Big succulent yellow-pink blossoms filled the plumeria. Sal stretched herself easily beneath this tree, released a deep rich breath and that soft wide smile filled her face. The heavy weight of discomfort rose from her, a cloud of glittery dust refreshed in the air between plumeria bough and the broad forehead that was now relaxed. Dream moments are without boundaries of time, and even as I witnessed I could not tell how long we lingered. The roots of the plumeria rose from the scantly grassy lawn, like mini mountains the roots rolled from the trunk of the tree. Did I not notice when we first arrived, or did the tiny fairy flowers the size of diminuitive Jasmine pikake turn to a double row of fairy lights when I was not looking?

"Ahh...it's my brother's work. He is such a fantastic garderner, and a beautiful, beautiful boy." Sal had found a way to bring comfort to her soul through the asking. In the days when she and her brother were small kids, the world was a place of distress. There were things neither she nor her brother could change. Perhaps the experiences of an adult day spent in pain opens up that trap door to the old times. What I shared in this DreamTime with dear Sal was the tonic that humans sometimes take for granted as they climb onto the sheets and under the covers. Dream material waits to be called up at any moment, and with the asking any number of alternative realities are possible. Sal and her angels conjured up a sweet night of joy, a release from the day that just needed to be put to rest.