I’m dreaming strange dreams again for the first time in several months. I believe in the significance of dreams, although I am almost embarrassed to admit it. Perhaps it is a superstition so instilled in me that no matter how hard I try, I cannot rid myself of the silliness of it, cannot even acknowledge it as silliness. Instead, some piece of me clings to the idea that something magical lies in the interpretation of dreams, and that to receive a dream is a blessing from the gods. (So silly!)
In my dream, I was in a room with two older women and I, myself, was 55 years old. One woman was behind me, and the other was in front of me. There was a strange apparatus in the centre of the room, and the woman in front of me was conducting a ceremony, a Last Ritual for the woman behind me to ease her passing. A light was reflected from the apparatus, and instead of striking the woman behind me, they fell on me. I was afraid and thought perhaps that I would die instead of the elderly woman behind me.
The ritual was over. I never saw the woman behind me. The woman in front of me, the Herb Woman, was putting large trays of things into an oven. She was wearing a blue babushka, and I was wearing a red one. I walked over to her and asked, “How do you do it? I know you help people, but how can you do it?”
She looked at me intensely for a moment, then said, “What are you so afraid of?”
“Of ending!” I exclaimed. “Of ceasing to be, of ceasing to learn, of ceasing to experience and learn from life!”