A beautiful piece of music visited my dreams the other day. As I desperately tried to hold on to her, she refused to stay as if my mind wasn’t worthy enough an abode. She was, perhaps, right. All that I’m now left with are memories that she sang like a lonely chime and thousand violins. After her fierce departure woke me up, I could not recall the song or how she sang.
I woke up and felt soft breath of my wife sleeping on my shoulder. There is a calm about her. Not just in the way of her sleep, but even the way of her anger, exuberance and impatience. There’s a calm about everything she does and everything she is. Its contagious. A contagion to which men, women, children and butterflies are not immune to. It has deeply affected me. Lying in my bed with eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling lit by city lights – I clasped a stillness in the moment. Stillness and nothing else – no fear, no anxiety, no greed, no guilt, no desire, no longing – just stillness.
The dream I just had woken up from also revealed upon inquiry that I heard my father laugh. He was a tough man when he lived. He grew bitter with life as his end neared him. I witnessed both innocence and joy betray his life with brutal discipline before entirely abandoning him. But to the final day of his life, when he laughed, he laughed like a child. I cannot imagine a gift more precious. From memories, I might recall nuances of his laugh, but its only through my dream that I caressed his joy and his innocence. How precious.
It was a dream as well of nostalgia. About the days I played with friends I couldn’t keep count of. About the days I played as rain bathed scorched fields, when we felt a cool from skies and warmth from earth together. Those were the days I was closer to green grass than I have ever since been. I was glad to have spent my life the way I did. I was glad I could spend it the way I did.
As I gazed around admiring how everything was where it belonged, a sanguine thought pierced into me. Isn’t this still moment what life IS? Nothing overwhelmed this moment, nothing happened in it and yet its depth and weight can hardly be grasped. This is a moment carved from my life. Isn’t this what it means to live? Then. Then. Then I wondered “what if…” and hurried back to dreams before that thought completed.