Another Dream

My friend Patty is in the hospital at St. Dominics. She is dying of complications from a strange disease. She lies peacefully, breathing slowly but with labor. I stood next to her and traced a cross on her forehead, kissed her sweet face and walked away. Its not fair. Last night when I went to bed and turned off the light,the last image I saw was this picture "Love Thy Neighbor". Then I went to sleep.

This is my dream.
I am in the same hospital room that Patty was in but I am the one in bed and I cannot move because I am dying, just as Patty. I feel how hard it is to breathe and I am hot, no I am cold. I hear music and there are earphones in my ears and the music keeps changing. I hear Tys voice saying I'm changing that music, she doesn't want to hear that, and he flips it over and over again until I want to scream, but I can't.
Then all is quiet and I feel different. I want to get out of bed and I turn and can move so I sit by the bed and see everyone there but they are looking at me lying in bed. I stand up and I stretch and it feels so good. I realize I am floating, close to the floor and I go to the door and look out and the hallway is the same as at St. Dominics except it is sterile and clean and no one is in it except for some people standing, sitting or leaning against the walls, separate but together. There is a presence next to me but I don't see anything. I wonder who the people are and the voice says "They work here". As I pass them I see faces that I recognize - some are familiar and some are very vague, but a face I have seen. Some are beggars, children
play in a corner, the old man who rides the bicycle around town who wears a paper sack on his head stands there. The lady who begs for money on the shopping street in LA who I gave $5.00 to, the crazy man in the window who stood and stared at me while I ate lunch...Cyril, who walks around with his rake looking for work. I reach the end of the hall and the voice says "You are being sent back, to do it right this time."

Now, I am a newborn baby, naked and surrounded by thousands of other newborn babies all different nationalities, all suspended in air, warm and waiting. This time I am
black. I wake up.

I think again of Patty, she worked at Manna House, and helped acquire money to keep it running, she took care of others, in the way she knew how. I will try to live the bible verse "Love thy neighbor" better than before. I will not turn away, for I do not know the people who are being put before me each and every day and I need to be more conscious of their needs and less of mine.

reality again

After reviewing my last post, it struck me how petty my worries are. We do not live in a war torn country where my family would be in danger and freedom would not be word but a dream. I take for granted the clothes on my back, food, shelter and all the vanities that I require. One day in Egypt or the Arab world would bomb my ideas of what reality really is. I have a privileged life, it is better than I deserve,but it is mine - it is for this reason that I must wonder how I am spending it, what will I say to God? or as we say in the Episcopal Church, "what have I done or left undone?" Will I spend it playing tag and being "it" forever? Surely not, the stage is too large and I'm tired of running. Its time for a small stage with only one backdrop - is it possible?

Reality

Its a rainy Saturday. The kind of day that requires a good book or reflection. The first two months of the year have been quite busy, putting mother in an assisted care home, bringing another grandchild into the world and assisting her young mother, my daughter Catherine, with all the things that a new mom can't do on her own, without help. My new role in this stage of my life is - helper. It is all I can be as I have found that I can't be more than that. I want to do all and the reality is that I am not capable of it.

Reality is finding its way into all areas of my life these days - in my life as an artist, as a wife, as a mother, a daughter, a friend. The backdrop behind my stage is constantly going up and coming down, its half and half right now and looks in quite a mess as I see it. Is it an organized mess? Well, I suppose in some respect it is, but much like my dining room table right now, I seem to be the only one who knows what is going on. Sometimes.

As much as I would love to clean it up, my stage has to stay that way for a little longer, as with me; my life, my world, my existence. I don't have the time to sit and figure out where all my pieces are going and I loathe puzzles, despise them. I must take one role at a time and set that stage- play that role,and act the part (yes, acting is often required). I am looking forward to the day that I get to be part of the audience and watch someone else perform. Right now the reality is that I'm it, with the leading role and I'm not sure I'm ready for the next act.