I had a dream the other night. I seldom remember dreams unless awakened in the middle of one. This one startled me into awareness. What I remember went something like this:
I was at my kitchen sink with a woman. We were drying dishes, both of us smiling. I had a comfortable feeling she was someone I'd known a long time. Our arms touched the warm sensation pleasurable and soothing.
"Eric, I’m going to help you clean up your life," she said.
Unexpected recognition when I stared into her eyes woke me and caused me to remember her words. I'll call her Cicely. I had known her since first grade. We'd graduated from high school together.
While I had long known Cicely, we'd never been close and certainly not lovers. We'd never had any personal relationship, at least in this lifetime. Still, in my dream, she felt like a trusted confidante. I felt empty knowing she'd died of cancer that summer.
This brings me back to pondering the dream’s meaning. Perhaps we live parallel lives with many lovers and confidantes as the wheels of a giant machine spins one slow story after the next.
Shakespeare said, "All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts." Maybe he was right.
How many parts have I played and who were my fellow actors? Did all my stories end in song and dance on a festive summer night, or in the sudden shock of unexpected pain?
Eric Wilder is the author of the Paranormal Cowboy and French Quarter Mystery Series. Please check out more of his work on his Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBook author pages