Monday, April 11, 2011
A very young woman, extremely pregnant, enters. She gives birth to a baby boy, but the birth process does not occur. At one moment she is ready to give birth; at the next moment she is placing the baby in my arms. He is beautiful!
In the purity of dream intention, from my depths I speak in that way one speaks in dreams: I want to rear this beautiful baby! I want to take care of him as he grows, even though I am old! I know deep within, in that clarity of soul that is exposed in dreams, that tending this baby is now my life purpose.
In dream fashion, somehow the young mother has disappeared from the scene. I hold the baby, and we see some framed photographs on a small table in an adjoining room. The baby amazingly speaks. He tells me all about who is in the photograph, and explains the person's life and that the photo was taken in 1924. He speaks more and tells me many fascinating things.
I am astounded and exclaim to a priest and a few others who have appeared across the room. "This baby is amazing! He knows things no infant would know. Not even adults would know what this baby understands and speaks!" The priest shrugs and says, "That baby did not talk. He's a normal baby."
He takes the baby from me as we enter another room. He sets the baby on a sofa upon which several people are sitting, including a couple children. They are watching a TV set, and the children are horse-playing. The baby is ignored even though he is propped amidst the people on the sofa.
I watch from across the room, as if not noticed, but I complain to the priest who is nearby that no one is tending the baby! I was stunned to see that no one notices how amazing and beautiful is this baby boy and am unable to enter their space. I can only watch, fearing he will fall unnoticed, from the sofa's edge.
When I awaken from this dream, only then do I recognize who is the young mother and who is the infant: Mary and Baby Jesus. The other persons in the dream are symbolic of some of us who are distracted by things of the world, or who are religious in vocation yet seem not to see with inner sight, the spiritual realities in our midst.
I ponder this dream and am surprised that my first words and instincts were that I loved that beautiful baby and wanted to take care of him as my purpose in life even though I am old. Age did not seem to hinder the desire, although briefly I did recognize that yes, I am old and not as capable, perhaps. But still, overwhelmingly, with certainty, I would rear this child!
And the baby's young mother had immediately placed him in my arms, then simply, dream-like, disappeared into backdrop haze from the immediacy of the dream scene. The more I consider this purposeful dream, its significance heightens my awareness.
I am to take care of Baby Jesus. I hold him in my arms, I see his beauty, he talks to me and tells me amazing things. I place my old cheek to his tender baby cheek, and my love for him is inexpressible. I face the responsibility; but a hope flickers that now I will not be so alone. Somehow I know taking care of Baby Jesus is the purpose for my life, in what time God gives, remaining.