Old dreams...

I was digging through our old email and letters and stuff to copy things for the visa petition and ran across this. I sent this to Simon on August 17th of last year. It was a dream I had that was so vivid I woke in the middle of the night drenched with sweat. A year later, I think the thing coming down the stairs at us may have been immigration with its laws and rules, keeping two people apart who only want to be together. The dream makes more sense to me now that it did then. I dreamt this before we had met in person...

We were to be married, but it was illegal to do so, so we had to run to a hiding place to make it so. We ran through the dark street of an ancient deserted city. Down into a dark under ground room, lit with a single yellowing beeswax candle in the corner on a low table. I could smell the wax and soot. It lit the room enough to see the flat cut stone walls and arched door ways, the color of a doves breast. Three little monks waited there, all dressed in brown and not saying word, probably as scared as we. I was wearing a long cloak with a hood over my head, it was a deep burgundy velvet. And the priest – a BEAUTIFUL Italian priest dressed in red robes – was he a Bishop? We all joined our hands together, someone handed me a familiar rosary that I have not seen yet. He started to pray the words, but we heard feet on the stairs, slowly coming into the dark room. We crouched behind the loyal pillars of the monks, the priest with his arms around me from behind like a great red bird, shielding and protecting me. You in front of me with your back to the stairs. Our six hands held tight together, waiting for a blade to meet the backs of our necks, and as the feet followed the steps further into the room I clenched our hands more tightly and prayed, “Hail Mary! Full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee –“ I looked up to see what came down the steps and I gasped…. And then I woke up.

~Liza