Deciphering dreams

I have a friend that is part of the hispanic pentecostal church – they are … a little bit out there so to speak – and one thing they love is interpreting dreams.

And because I am one of those people that often has dreams rich with meaning – when I come along and say – I had a funny dream – they want to hear all about it.

Sometimes I think the interpretation they give is good and sometimes way off. Sometimes I think it is good for them to think on and sometimes the message is for me.

Last week I had a dream that I went to a luscious green garden on a hillside. On the grounds there was a school for young children and many carefully manicured walkways and focal points crosshatching and going diagonally up the hillside.

Near the entrance there was a tent set up – Like a canopy with sheer white mosquito netting for the walls. And there was a long table with children’s books on it. they were all classic/popular children’s stories – the authors of the books sat behind the tables with the books they wrote in front of them. It was a book signing deal. But the children were all outside on the paths. The people who wrote the books were all stuffy, bored and self absorbed. They wanted other people to read their books and applaud their work. They asked me which was my favorite – Oh they are all very good! I have read many of them long ago. But I couldn’t pick a favorite now, not without re-reading them! My favorite book is the one I am reading right now. And when it is done my favorite will be the next one I read.
When the teacher of the children stopped it she tried to encourage the authors to visit the grounds with the children – but they refused – they wanted the children to come to them.

The teacher was joyful and fun. She explained that the children had been working very hard on the pathways in the garden to make nice places for photos or to sit and rest. She begged the authors to come see what the children had done, they were so excited  to meet the writers of their favorite books!

But the authors refused. They only wanted to talk amongst themselves. I figured it would be fun to see what the children had worked so hard to make. As I left the canopied area and started to walk the paths – it was beautiful. Every path a bit different – something to see at every junction. Thick green grass on the sides of the pathways, some paths were bare earth , some had stepping stones, some were paved with bricks. You could go up the paths and when you reached the junction you could go up or down, until you reached the next junction and you could make another decision. I followed the pathways and saw children running and laughing, eager to show what they had worked on. I came to a rectangular pool near the top of the hill. It looked shallow – there were bumps of concrete that barely reached the surface. So the younger kids could play in the water or just sit on a concrete bump and splash their feet in the water without worrying about drowning. The teacher ran down the hill and jumped in the wading pool! I thought she would break her legs! That water was only a foot deep! But in the center of the pool there were no blocks and there was an area 3’x 5′ or so where the water was deep and she landed there and played with the kids in the pool.
The authors packed up and never signed even one book for a child.

the end.


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