This morning…

In the haze of sleep, in the growing hours, I dreamt. It was a smudge of a dream, a foggy premise, lacking any tangible back story. I was formed and fully upright, dressed and pressed but not looking like me. This other me, this avatar, was walking across a large square, cobblestoned and quaint like those Piazza, Platz, Plaza of Europe that host meandering markets. In the dream I was walking towards a political rally that had started across the stones on the other side. My stride was determined and steady. In the next moment a child appeared, a toddler, as if with me. It was not my child, for I have no children in life or sleep but the accompaniment seemed important, more relevant and I was inspired. The child was sat on the cobbles and I leant to offer a hand. However with resilient determination the child found its wobbly feet and placed one step towards the rally and then another. I watched this tiny action and it amplified in my sleeping bones. In a fleeting change of dreamscape scenery I was suddenly drawn towards the parked and traffic idling vehicles that dominated the main road. I leant through an open window of a car and I began to write on the dashboard these words….

“A tiny step from a child, a tiny step of love and hope will smash hate and fear…. A single tiny step towards love will challenge the war mongers and the violence of the war… this tiny step, unfettered with hate is the future… is the goal… to return to this single step of wonderment… of uncertainty, without fear”.

It wasn’t easy writing the words around the accoutrements adorning the dash but I felt fevered in my attempts to record and relay. In waking I wrote the dream down and considered it as a complete narrative requiring nothing more than a footnote perhaps. Or perhaps not. My feet felt like walking and I got up and said to my lover that we should walk. I woke up.

Stride forward dear friends… may your steps be fearless in semblance and soul.