Last night I dreamed of many women riding horses at night. The subtle blue midnight and white of the moon cast the Interference Blue highlights on their shadows illuminating them through the darkness. They were beautiful, graceful and their horses ran in unison. There were trees with many bright, white skeletons of human beings in them and as they moved their bones made a clacking sound against each other.
The horses caused a great stir among the skeletons but I was unable to understand why. Thinking it was the thundering sound if their feet, I quickly designed a spongy ground that absorbed the sound but it did not put the skeletons at rest. I tried to divert their anxiety by swinging from branch to branch like a great ape, but their heads and large, black, hollow eyes kept turning toward the horses. The hollowness of the sockets made the eyes huge and fearful.
An overwhelming sadness came upon me when I saw the fear in their faces because of those big, dark, hollow eye sockets. It was as though they were in fear of their very lives but I realized they had no lives, they were already dead. And then something greater than myself helped me realize that they were not dead but very much alive and that just because something appears dead, its spirit lives on whether in skin or bones, or any other way.
It was one of those moments in life when a relief comes over you that you didn’t even realize the stress of until it is gone. In life those moments are few and far between. They are like figuring out the questions of the universe. The answers are so profound that if you try to tell someone, it gets all twisted up and the thoughts fall apart, then the person you are trying to tell thinks you are crazy.
I figured out something once that had to do with the sun, the earth and people. I was driving into the sun and it was bright, yet I was able to look straight into it. In wondering how I was doing that, it dawned on me that the sun was not as far as it is supposed to be, that somehow it was a part of me, I felt that we were one for just an instant. Its complication was confusing.
I tried to tell my daughter sitting beside me what I had just experienced but the deeper I got into what it meant, the more the story seemed not to make sense and the more I became confused about what, if anything I had seen. I wondered if I had fallen asleep for a split second. My daughter looked and me and said: “Mom, you are crazy but I love you.”