// November 13th, 2009 // 5 Comments » // Blog
Inspired by this post.
About a month ago I dreamt that I was on a journey with someone – a man; someone I’m somewhat familiar with in real life. We had stopped somewhere en route, and were using the computer room.
Swinging round in my swivel chair, I came to face to face with a young boy, maybe six years old or so. I said “hi”, in the kind of gentle way that you would with a small child… but for some unknown reason, he responded by launching into an unannounced bear hug! It felt like the type of sincere embrace that a child would give if they were scared, lonely, and needed reassurance.
I didn’t know the boy at all, but I was so moved by this simple gesture, by his implicit trust in me, that I couldn’t let go. As his chest lay upon mine, I felt my heart beat so strongly – almost painfully. I suspected that someone had abandoned him there, and that he had latched onto me like a lost puppy, hoping that I would love him. The whole experience evoked such a powerful maternal instinct in me; I just knew in my bones that I was meant to protect him.
I turned to my travel companion (whilst still engaged in the bear hug), who was sat on a nearby terminal. And as soon as I did, I saw a little girl do the exact same thing to him! I knew – as one usually ‘knows’ in dreams – that the little girl was the little boy’s sister. They had both been abandoned.
We carried the children to our car – a large, black 4 x 4. I was so sad. I wanted to take them with us. I wanted to make them mine, and never let them be alone again. In the background, I listened to my companion share his opinions on how unfortunate the whole situation was… but I could tell without asking that he was unwilling to take the children. He was being the sensible man; I, the emotional woman – though I reluctantly understood his perspective, and didn’t argue. I remember the solemn look on my face, and how I secretly hoped that it would be enough to make him change his mind.
Well, it seemed to have worked! Because as the dream advanced to the next ’scene’, it was several years in the future. The travel companion and I were now married (I assume we weren’t before), and the children were ours.
There was more to the dream, which has now been forgotten, and so I assume it was less significant. The strangest part, however, happened after I awoke. I made the opening takbir for Fajr salat. I went to place my hands on my chest, and subhanallah, I felt the same strong, painful, feeling of empathy in my heart, as I did during my embrace with the little, lost child.
As I prayed, I wept. All for the love of my dream boy.
