Not all my dreams are nightmares.

Just woke from a dream in which God was human, present, mother, love.

I don’t think it had anything to do with my parents, in particular—it was neither about them, nor against them. My mother and I have similar eyes. This mother/God looked exactly like me (which is different from the way I look in reality). I was both child and adult; she was taller. She was dressed completely unpretentiously—not trying to “be” God, only present.

There was no human entanglement between us—but a tangible, mutual, love. Hers manifested the way my friends’ love has been, really; lots of hugs and concern, but not hovering. I was… loved and grateful. Completely, actively engaged. But I wasn’t clinging.

I asked her to tell me stories of when I was a sick infant—which she did, though images (inconsistent with the actual facts; hey, it was a dream). I was a baby on an operating table. There was never any sense of worry for my well-being. Only confidence that I was in good care with the doctors, and would be okay.

I never had to be good; just myself. She accepted me wherever I was. This dream was full of laughing, and hugs.

I fell asleep on the floor, in child’s pose. I woke, sort of, to the alarm, and was three degrees from sleep when I felt her behind me, poised to wake me. I sat up, and was surrounded by love.

Words aren’t doing it justice. I’ve been having all these fearful nightmares. This was the opposite. There was no fear in this; only love, and the confidence that I was not ever alone. I woke up wrapped in it.

Sure, I was awake from 2 a.m. to 5. I’m still exhausted. But the love that I’ve been walking in, is sinking through my skin.

Paul, I think our e-mail conversation last night helped a lot. (You will know why.)