Wednesday, June 26, 2013

A Vision of Divine Compassion

In my dream, she comes to me, as she has so many times before, this time in the guise of a teacher, her charges swirling around her.

She doesn't acknowledge me until I speak to her, but as soon as I do (a stupid joke about being one of her kids), she's laughing and smiling, a wide smile in a generous mouth, dark eyes.

I still haven't recognized her (I won't until after I awaken), so when I ask her what she does, she looks at me for a moment, then leans in and kisses me, tenderly.

"Mostly I work with people who have PTSD," she says, and her smile is sad, and as deep as the ocean.

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