This article requires an apology--or, at least, an apologetic explanation. It is a fictional story that my mind composed while I was sleeping. It was a rare type of dream that I remembered with distinct detail after I awoke.
I don’t know what to make of it personally; perhaps it has weird or beautiful psychological meaning. But it seems to be a story I wrote. I am sure it was not in any way a revelation given to me by God or someone else.
I was myself in the dream as it unfolded. Everything about it was consistent with how I would probably have acted in that circumstance. I have not needed to edit or modify it after the fact.
The Dream
I was standing in my office, attempting to help a young man who had come for counsel. I don't know what kind of office it was, or what kind of counsel he was seeking. He was about 30 and had bushy blond hair. He was dressed casually and carelessly.
No details or furnishings of the office were visible in my dream except the chair on which the young man was sprawled. It was a wooden chair with curved arms and red padded upholstery attached to the seat and back. The guy was ignoring me and talking rudely and loudly on his cell phone.
The door of the office in one corner was open. An older man approached and knocked. I watched him walk in through the open door. I had no description of him except that he was wearing a brown suit and tie. As he came toward me, I saw he was wearing a pin-on name tag with "Wendell Berry" printed on it.
I told him I was glad to meet him and that I had read a couple of his Port William novels. As I reached to shake his hand, I was searching my memory for names and events in the books so I could discuss them with him. I also thought I would mention that two friends of mine recommended I read his poetry.
The young man in the chair continued his argument on the phone, but Mr. Berry did not seem to notice him. As the writer leaned forward to shake my hand, he softly asked me, "Who are you crying for?"
I had not thought I was crying for anyone. Then I suddenly realized that a tear was running down my face from my right eye.
Then I woke up.
Very interesting, Jerry. If Daniel or Joseph were here, maybe they could help! 🙂 But I do think it reflects you - someone who cares.
Beautiful. I was touched. There are very few dreams that I can remember in detail but they stay with me.