Dream a dream

In the dream I stood by a beach in what was a bit of an adventure. After classes at college that day I'd taken a walk to the beach, a short walk to a famous place. I lived in a land where I knew the language well enough to speak it, be heard and understood, but not well enough to call it my own, my mother tongue. The beach was everything promised. Fabled pillars of ancient stone, steps down to the crashing waves. I stood for hours, watching the stones turn to rose and gold, the beach turn dark and the steps recede to grey echoes in the dusk. As I climbed back up, the waves were already washing over the lowest few.

I walked through the tall pillars, up and down flights of stone stairs, past huge doors bolted many years ago to block out wanderers from the present (I'm not sure such a ruin exists at the beach in reality, since I've never been there). And I was lost. I couldn't find the short walk from the campus that I'd taken, and the unfamiliar roads were deserted. Not a soul on the streets, no transportation, only locked doors. This is where the dream gets a little fuzzy. I could speak this unfamiliar language to the people I met, but no one understood me. I managed to find a rickshaw who offered to take me home for an exorbitant amount of money. I got in, only to find the driver had other plans. I'm not sure quite how I managed to get him to take me back to the ruins. Somewhere there I thought I might find a safer alternative. It was a popular landmark, and I could call someone to come pick me up, at least.

So I called him, the person I had moved to this city for. Terrible cell phone reception, and he didn't hear or understand anything beyond that I had gone out, and would be late getting home. He wasn't curious or concerned. After a long while of fidgeting with the phone, I called my mother, and she could barely hear me. It was even later, and I was sobbing-screaming by now. "I don't know if you can hear me. If you can, please call a cab to get me home and let _ know I'm okay."

I don't know how the dream ended, if she heard me or the cab came. I don't know if in my sleep, I found home. I do know that I didn't understand this yesterday, though it has lingered and weighed me down since I woke. Since I woke, I'm still not home. I have not been for a long time. And only now do I have the words to voice this.

Our conversation this morning makes it clear. I live in your world. Even this far from tradition and native tongues, I stepped into your world five years ago. I don't know if you are aware of this. But I live in a world where the only resolution is what I think your father's way was- one of non-communication, unilateral decisions, wall-building, hurt fostered by an absence of words, an unwillingness to work past hurt to heal.

This is not a world where my words will help. I can speak the words of this unfamiliar language, but should not expect to be heard or understood. I can try to find help, even pay exorbitant amounts of money for it. But this help will not take me past the ruins. I will find myself here, time and time again, in space framed by locked doors and formidable pillars that have stood for years. Make no mistake, it is a beautiful place. One where the waves crash over weathering steps and water, light and wind make a world of wonder every sunset and sunrise. It is paradise, for a few minutes each day. The rest is dark, towering, walls I crash into  when I try to feel my way through or out.

Only after our conversation do I understand yesterday's dream. And here is my solution of sorts. While in limbo, trapped in your childhood, I revert to mine. Write down fights verbatim in an effort to logic them out. Listen to the other person without judgment. Use words to understand first, not express. Don't change things you don't understand. Do these things and insight will come, as sure as wind and night sky.

There's a somewhat silly poem in a children's book I particularly love. It's a little reminiscent of the Alchemist to me, the part where the boy calls on the sun and wind and cloud and they answer. But they are only to be used when you know, completely, who you stand with, and what you stand against.

"With _ in this fateful hour,
I place all heaven with its power,
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness,
And the fire with all the strength it hath,
And the lightning with its rapid wrath,
And the winds with their swiftness along their path, 
And the sea with its deepness, 
And the rocks with their steepness, 
And the earth with its starkness,
All these I place,
Between myself and the powers of darkness." 

(A swiftly tilting planet, Madeline L'Engle)

A few silly words, yes. But they give me comfort as I live this dream. Perhaps there will be others when I wake.