Harp and Flame (a dream)

>> Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I was standing in a football field and the stands were full, I was part of the organization for a game that was about to start. It felt like maybe high school or little league in a small town where everyone goes to the game. A very old man, maybe 80s or 90s was walking down the stairs toward the front row and everyone started yelling 'Nazi! Nazi!' and chanting 'Auschwitz!' He froze at the bottom of the stairs, looking really frail and hunched over, like he wanted to sink into the floor. Then a little girl came over to him and led him to his seat. Everyone knew this little girl was Jewish. He sat in his seat with his hands over his face until the yelling died away. Before the scene changed, I was aware that the community had decided to shun the little girl because of her forgiveness, and that this man was probably in danger from people.

Then I was walking along the street, which was an inaccurate version of Howard Street in front of Jenks in Wheaton. On the corner of University, there was a large old Victorian row-style house; it was kind of like well-maintained old downtown brownstone, beautiful, enormous bowing oak trees all around. Now I was the little Jewish girl, grown up a bit. Walking with my head slightly bent, but on high alert from anyone who might come at me. The man from the ball game lived in the Victorian house, and I wanted to go visit him.

I was in the drawing room with him and his daughter (in her 40s or 50s) who took care of him. It was all dim in gold tones, soft and old, vaguely like a British drawing room, but clean and orderly. The man showed me a large book that looked somewhat like a large history encyclopedia from home school suppliers. He was quietly but insistently showing me things of great importance. He showed me a symbol in the book; it was a very small medal plaque shape in bronze and red mottled fire colors, with a golden harp on the center right and a large red gold flame swooshing across the left corner. The image was worked into the illustration, in the way that an artist might work his name into a painting but make it visible only if you're looking for it. Then the man sat down across from me to talk.

I realized that the man was James Hong, and had trouble focusing for a while because I'd only ever seen him in Big Trouble in Little China as the scary bad guy. He said, "As an actor it's important - vital - to represent the history accurately." I remember being relieved that he really was being an actor and wasn't actually the Nazi man, and was thinking over and over about his role as Lo Pan and wondered if I ought to bring it up, but decided not to because it wasn't in the "Jewish Girl forgives Nazi Man" script.

Some period of time passed. It was overcast, as though it were about to rain but hadn't yet, and I approached the house again. This time I entered the door on the corner of the house into the store that looked out on University. It was a socks-and-shoes store, but also sold other things. Again, it was all slightly dim, in browns and golds, but neat. I browsed the sock rack and then turned to the man's daughter, who ran the store. I asked her if the socks had arrived yet with the specific details we had previously discussed. We were speaking in code, as there were other customers in the store. (Who had no interest in me, thankfully.)

She went into the stock room, and I could see the shelves with a library ladder through the door. She came back and handed me a pair of socks in swirling reds and golds with the harp and flame stitched into them. She also handed me a box, kind of like a cigar box or one of those yellow assorted chocolate boxes you see at drug stores. Inside the box was the man, who had passed away in his sleep quietly, happily, and forgiven. They had managed to reduce him in size so that he could fit comfortably in the cigar box. Beside him was something long and cylindrical wrapped in light blue flannel. The dream ended with a sense of sadness, but also some relief that he would no longer suffer from the past.

Harp and flame emblem in my dream.


About This Blog

Life is about changes; transitions from one place to another, from one purpose to another, from one being to another. They say that the person you are today is a completely different person from who you were ten years ago and who you'll be ten years from now. So far, at the age of 33, I've had four major transitions in my life which redefined who I am. Two years into the results of the most recent transition I am again - still - exploring how God is shaping me. Over the next few months I hope to review my past and set goals for the future, and embrace the next adventure of rediscovering me.
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