Dreams

Lately my dreams arrive with biblical bumper stickers.

My father's house has many rooms.
A little child shall lead them.

After a long hiatus, I'm back to dreams in which I liberate children who've been wrongfully imprisoned under false pretenses.  Often a teenage girl and her little brother.  I might become the girl escaping with the brother, with help that arrives from outside.  It's fluid, it's a dream.

Two years ago, in an unforgettable dream, a savior pulls up in a 1970s station wagon just when we need him.  He helps us get away from that awful institution in a hurry.  He's young, he's handsome, he's kind, he's strong, and he's existentially good.

He hands me a business card and says, with a smile of pure light:

"I am from the Church of the Northern Star..."

Since then I've felt that I have access to real help, the kind I need, when I really need it.