I become aware that a group of hunters, of which my stepfather and father are members, have come upon a Native American man in the woods. Thinking of him as no more than an animal, they have killed him and beheaded him, keeping his head as a trophy. I am horrified and convinced that the crime has to be reported. While most of the hunters express no remorse whatsoever, my father wears a pained, confused look about what they have done. As I talk to him about our need to take action, it is as if he slowly awakens from a deep sleep and finally acknowledges the truth. Then I call the authorities and tell them what has happened.
As I hang up, I become aware that a cougar is making its way into deep South Texas — passing through the King Ranch, skirting the U.S. Border Patrol check point at the little town of Sarita, and moving into the area near the Mexican border where I grew up. I am hopeful that it will thrive there.
Then, I look up to see a red plane doing aerobatics. I know that the young pilot is saluting me for my courage. His aerial display is so prodigious that I find the display physically impossible. Suddenly, I am aware that I am dreaming. I walk south through a meadow and look up to see a beautiful, dew-covered red hibiscus hanging over my head. I take a few more steps and affirm that when I look up the next time, I will see the Holy Light. I lift my eyes and behold a huge orb of white light surrounded by a delicate, lattice-like corona that takes up the entire southern sky. I know that it is the Light of Christ.
Then an elderly woman approaches from behind me. Her eyes tell me that she loves me. I reach out, put my arm around her, and kiss her forehead, knowing that she is Mary, the mother of Jesus. We turn back toward the Light and see that a second light had appeared to the left, slightly below the white orb. The new light is bluish-violet and—with delicate, hairlike filaments of light—resembling the blossom of a passionflower vine. I turn to Mary and ask, “Is that your light?” She nods.
I turn back and look again, only to see that a third light has joined the other two. It appears to the right, slightly below the white orb. It shines from the window of a tower whose base now stands only a few feet away from us.
“Whose light is that?” I ask.
Mary replies, “It is Mary Magdalene’s light.”
Then I ask, “Do you want to go there?” Again she nods, so we walk forward together and begin to climb the tower’s circular stairs.
If you have a big dream, consider sharing it here. If you have trouble posting it as a comment, please send it to me at gscotspar@gmail.com, and I will post it with any comments you might want to add.
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