Who Was She?

Do you have vivid dreams that seem to make moral sense, even if none of the events seem to? Last night I dreamed of a woman who was all of us and none of us. She was you and me and all of us, yet strangely unique.

She was poor. She lived alone except for her old, little, ratty doggy in one little room filled with all she owned. There was one chair to rest her weary body in, a footstool to rest her feet upon, a little cot upon which to rest her weary soul.

She lived in an area everyone else would be surprised to see – a place misunderstood, even condemned by some. She lived in the shadow of another huge, but tottering building, dangerous with live and hot electrical cables dangling everywhere.

It was an emergency.

I was called to help. At the scene there were many workmen hurrying about the tall building that everyone could see was nearing collapse and would fall and destroy the little homes near by.

The lady’s “house” was the closest to the building and a direct hit by all estimations. But no one could get her to leave. She stood there in the middle of her meager dwelling, embracing her little dog, with tears running down her eyes from fear and courage colliding within her.

All she owned was in that little room. It looked like a couple of strangely shaped candles and a bunch of greeting cards taped to the walls with some precious photos – a few boxes arranged neatly and in a very tidy way under her cot.

Why was I there?

It was a mystery. In the dream, I walked to this woman’s home and asked to enter. I hugged her and her dog and told her I wanted to help her. She continued to cry and embrace her only friend.

I had a large plastic bag in with me and now began to carefully gather every card and photo as if they were priceless works of art and place them in the bag. Candles, cards, photos, whatever was there. And listened to the incessant and constant shouting of neighbors and workmen outside shouting for us to evacuate before it was too late.

Still I gathered every little box from under her bed and keep asking her for direction with the search for her “valuables”. Everything was stored in the bag carefully so as not to damage one corner of any of her precious things.

I pulled up the little floor rug and carefully rolled it up and put it in the bag and gathered everything under her watchful and tear-streamed eyes.

Her fear at being unnecessary in a busy and “successful” world poured off her like the water rushing over Niagara Falls and it hurt my soul for every moment I was near her.

The shouting from outside never ceased, the wind seemed to pick up. Still I lingered there to comfort her and held her and her companion. I whispered over and over that everything would be alright and that we would find her a new place, even it it meant coming to stay with me.

Once almost everything was gathered together, she let me lead her outside to the waiting arms of a rescue worker.

I returned inside for one last review.

Bare walls, the floor bare, her cot – now stripped of it’s blanket and sheet, her little chair and footstool carefully moved outside. I checked for lose boards or secret cupboards and found little more, as I continued to listen to the shouting.

I carried out her chair and footstool and handed them to a worker and went to find her as I heard the huge building begin to fall, and knew I had done what was necessary for another who had no one to help them.

When I awoke, I wrote down the dream, so strangely vivid it was and then I lay there instead of rushing up to get on with my day, to wonder at the many messages I found in it. Perhaps you will find something of value there too.