December 1st, 2020
I just woke up from an intense dream a few minutes ago. Now I sit in the dark, typing what I remember of the vision before it all fades away.
In my dream, I was back in Germany. I was in a church. It was the little Evangelische Kirche (Lutheran church) in my wife’s hometown of Edelfingen. There was a choir singing in the loft. The Lutheran minister was there, dressed in black and giving a sermon. The young woman whom I love was sitting in a chair to the left of me.
The girl was beautiful, younger than she is now. She looked to be of high school age, and was dressed in a blouse and skirt, which in reality she would have never worn.
The two of us stood up for the Lord’s Prayer. As we prayed, she put her right hand into my left. She lifted up my hand. There was something in the prayer that I needed to remember, but I don’t.
After the prayer ended, the minister came to us to give us communion. Lutherans seldom do that. He placed the host (the wafer) on our tongues. Even Catholics hardly ever do that. The girl looked at me and smiled.
Then I felt her hand tugging in mine. She was being pulled away. She still smiled, but then she was gone.
The dream is over. I still want to cry.
The young woman sleeps in her bedroom nearby. Sometimes I hear her deep, ropey cough in the darkness. She found out yesterday that she has COVID. The woman fears for her unborn son. She is more worried about Asher than she is about herself.
COVID is here in our house, doing the work of all plagues. I have that bitter taste of fear in my mouth, even though I know it all has to run its course.
I am grateful for the dream.