The day was sunny, the leaves of the trees were so very green and the sun glistened, dancing playfully as the laughter of the stream rolled up from the moss covered rocks. The water ran around my ankles, cool, refreshing and bringing life back to my tired feet. I was there, in the stream, alone, captured by the breeze as it swept across my face. The scent of all that is enveloped me, I was the earth. My feet grew into the ground as it fed me full of knowledge and strength. I drew upon her for nourishment, life, energy, and wisdom.
My fishing rod, an antique fly, was my only accompaniment. I cast long and steady, the line arching beautifully, a scene captured only in movies. The line sang, as it tossed the hand woven bait through the air, tickling the tip of the water and enticing the object of my moments being. I caught one; a champion trout was in my hands. Beautifully it glistened, its flesh, reflecting the colors of hope, and then I noticed. The eyes of the fish seemed to be staring intently at me, they burned into me, begging me for something, its face frowning, and startled. Taken by the image, I lost track of what I was doing. It wrestled its way free from my hands and descended back into the cool water.
I looked down where the fish had landed, expecting that, with a flick of its tail, it would dart away, back to its life, free from harm and capture once again…but it didn’t. In a panicked motion, it kicked its tail and turned, the pain and anguish still on its face, it could not swim. Paralyzed, it wriggled in place once more and then lay lifeless in the stream whose waters had become still and now displayed signs of perfect stagnation. I looked deeper into the lifeless pool and realized the hundreds of other dead fish mounting, the look of defeat, sadness, and pain upon their faces. The once clear water had now clouded with dust upon its surface and the image that was once transparent… was no more. Still standing in the pool, I began to weep for the lifeless beings, my heart ached and the type of sadness that only stems from loss overwhelmed me. I awoke from this dream, only to experience it again, and even once again. It has been three times now and I believe there is a reason. Since this dream, I have realized visions of these scenes several times and cannot seem to let go of the unheard screams pouring from the very souls of what was once life.
Yes, this is only a dream and some dreams are strange, others horrifying. In this case, the emotions felt were overwhelmingly sad. Some would take this, and shrug it off, saying “that’s just crazy, dreams don’t mean anything” and venture so far as to make fun. This comes only from insecurity and the inability to relate at such levels as to delve into one’s own emotions let alone publicize them. This is a direct display of weakness and self insecurity. Others will remain silent, read and relate, while others will chime in, voice their opinions and interpret something for themselves from these writings. Nonetheless, regardless of response, I will disclose, at the risk of speculation and scrutiny, precisely what I have construed and understand to be the message.
People often ask of me, from where do I draw my strength and energy. Well, let me tell you, I draw it from a new found relationship with my God and prayer. While my religious focus may not be aligned with the majority, I draw my synergy from God and feel closer to this being more and more intensely each and every day. My primary prayer is for wisdom. I am very intent on this and draw upon my relationship with God and others through the wisdom that I’ve been afforded, which, incidentally is not very much! However, I take what I can get and I listen. God speaks to us in so many ways the problem is people have lost their ability to really listen. The words of God are not as complicated as one may think. Am I saying that God has spoken to me? What I’m saying is God has spoken…he speaks to everyone, but few choose to listen. There was meaning in this dream, and I have chosen to listen.
The foundation of life is water. Our earth primarily consists of water as do our bodies. Without water, there can be no life and with poisoned water, life becomes death. The greater population within waters, as most of us comprehend, is fish. No one can argue that water provides life, which is populated by fish and other basic life forms. The oceans serve as the womb of life, giving breath to new forms each and every day. We discover these over time, and the adventures associated with new discovery continue. The trees, the breeze, and the life that I experienced prior to witnessing my dying fish are all results of the life giving waters. Once these became still, so did all of life. So the core of this dream is in fact water. The remaining questions are as follows:
What does the water represent?
How did the water become poisoned?
Why was I standing in the water?
And how do we keep the waters flowing so as not to experience the death associated with its poisoning?
Simple…water represents hope. It provides the essence that the people require in order to live, thrive, grow, and love. Water represents habitat. The homes over our heads, the areas where we go for long walks, that single favorite spot where we dwell when we need to escape. I am in a world where hope, habitat, and faith are waning. The people here are screaming for help but their voices are not being heard. I have been told by two local citizens in just twenty four hours that, and I sadly quote, “Iraqi people are bad people, we have done wrong and the God is punishing us, I live in a world of dogs, and there is nothing I can do, we deserve this” and the other, without knowing what his comrade had stated, declared “I hate my country, I must leave, we are going to destroy ourselves because we are broken, no one cares and I must just get out of here.”
We, the people, are the fish. We scream for help and false promises made by governments along with misconstrued hopes are the poison from which our water contaminates. We live in a world that we are unable to change. We look upward, panic stricken, saddened by our deeds, looking for someone to help and we see no one, the water has clouded because it has become stagnant. Hope has failed and no longer flows.
I stand over and observe, unsure of what to do, but continue with diligent prayer. My feet embedded in the earth from whence the water once flowed, are frozen in place, and I am forced to look down and see, without the ability to make change or influence, the sadness of those that truly feel lost. We must remain cognizant of the plight that our world is going through. It is, in fact, suffocating us and because we, as a world, have become so “international,” the plight of one will, consequently, be the doom of another.
I write today, because I feel designated and obligated, to deliver to all who will believe, a reminder that God has charged us with the care of this earth and its inhabitants. We can no longer stand as a single entity, thinking only of the self, relying on fate to carry us through. We must look to reach out an encouraging hand to one another because times will worsen. Do not let our daily lives of comfort mis-guide us on a path in which we choose to squander the present at the cost of building a future for our children and our children’s children, pushing us far from the harsh reality of what may come. Do what you can with what you are given. Give hope to those that will listen, give reason to those that doubt, and lead those who are lost back home to clear waters, so that they may live once again. This is our charge, and this is my dream, and perhaps now, it is yours.