In the dream, I walk cautiously to my car parked in a desolate parking lot. A lone vehicle patiently awaiting its owner who drags her feet after an impossibly long day.
“Things need to change” I mumble to myself as I mentally drudge through the events of the day.
As I slide into the worn seats of my faithful chariot, I feel grateful for its drafty yet warm presence. “Tessa’s Tatty Tazz”, a vehicle with an immeasurable capacity for giving. As the key turns in the ignition and my thoughts project to the warming cup of tea and woolly socks that await me on the other side of this homebound journey, the disappointing sound of silence lands heavily. The celebrated car suddenly transforms from a “faithful chariot” to “an old piece of crap!” The swiftness of its transition is almost funny, almost.
I try again in the hope that some frantic pumping of the fuel pedal will warm her innards and send us off to that now more elusive cup of warm tea. The vision of warm woolly socks had already evaporated from the field of possibility and the tea was fading fast.
Shit.
No spark to get this baby home and no phone credit to call for help. Just a mind abundantly regurgitating events of the day seeking a soul to blame.
As I contemplate my options I am halted by the fact that there are NO options.
No one, no thing, avails itself to support me.
There is no choice but to surrender to this moment of confusion.
My eyes lift and see a multitude of winged ones circling. As they move, they increase in size and capacity from the ignored pigeon, to the esteemed eagle, to prehistoric creations with enormous wingspans. They accelerate in speed and soon form one large pulsing, spiraling mass of feathers and squawks.
In the centre, the dark sky lightens and beyond I see a shape approaching from above at warp speed. I realise that the winged ones are creating and sealing a portal for this moving image to pass through. As it does, I am able to see a shape forming as it plummets from the sky. I think I see an image of a large wolf but the mind has been wrung from its remaining sanity and I do not trust its projections.
It crashes to Earth just metres away from where I am stranded and splatters into a number of other beings of varying degrees of cuteness. I rush to them but a voice very clearly instructs me to tend to an elder being who lays curled a short distance away. Whatever this creature is, the impact of it crashing to Earth has deconstructed it into a multitude of beings yet all operating from one mind. The voice is insistent, “Tend to the elder !”
I bend down to pick it up and cradle it in my lap. The previous thoughts of a challenging day pale in comparison to this awe-filled moment. I cannot interpret what it is. It feels like a multitude of animals in one body. It feels to be on the cusp of death and birth at the same time. It feels to be male and female. Its skin soft and smooth in places but crusted and hard like stone in others and its belly, a primordial ocean of unimaginable depth. I know instinctively to place my hands on this Being. As I do, I look upon my hands and see them transform into the wrinkled gentle hands of an African elder.
The Being speaks with no words.
“You are entitled to Miracles” it says telepathically.
With this, I wake.
I wake with the feeling of how uncomfortable it is for me to say that I am entitled to anything… let alone a Miracle! But what does feel comfortable and easeful is for me to offer it to another. I ponder the events of the dream and connect with someone in my heart that I know is deeply challenged at the moment. The prayer streams forth effortlessly and in my heart, I know that they will receive their Miracle.
I step into the day ignited by its prayerful start, pondering the words of the elder, “You are entitled to Miracles”
And with that, I finally understand its teaching.
The Miracle you offer is the Miracle you receive.
