08-04-2014 Tuesday (but it feels like Monday)
Last night I had a dream and you were in it and I was in it, too. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people were in it. All of us had gathered by a well by a castle by a village on a plain just to listen to one man speak. He was no God, he was no messiah, neither was he Jesus nor Mohammed, he was not even of great importance, he could have been anybody. He was anybody. At least from where we were standing.
You and I were at the back. We could hardly see him. We could barely hear him speak. His voice coming from afar, his words just a shadow. Standing on a scaffold, but far away. Though his words were inaudible we knew that what he was saying was of great importance. We could feel it; everybody could. This man of no importance.
In great awe everyone was staring into the distance where he stood. Addressing the masses in his everyday clothes with his everyday voice and his everyday words. His message was simply put, yet all knew that he was talking about complicated matters. Repeating the same massage over and over again in each and every language in more than one way and even if you did not speak the language, you’d still want to listen to him, his voice, his words, his message.
I grabbed you by the hand: tight, tighter, tightest. I pulled you through the masses to see if we could make it to the front. Making our way through. Hundreds of people we passed, but the more we walked the further away the speaker appeared to be. His voice started to fade yet I could have sworn we were closing in. And as we walked on his voice had totally disappeared. The silence was deafening.
Soon people started talking. Their voices grew louder, but they weren’t talking to each other. Maybe they were, but they just weren’t really saying anything and they weren’t listening, either. It would have been impossible for them to hear each other or understand each other, as it appeared they were talking in different languages, about different subjects. One subject more boring than another. We could hear it all, but understand nothing. There was no turning back now; we had no idea where back was.
Tired, exhausted, sad, lonely amongst all those people we sat down in the grass. Thinking where we went wrong. What had we done wrong? All we wanted to do is to get nearer, to hear every word, to grasp the meaning, to see, to feel. Yet the further we travelled the darker it grew. In the cold grass we sat in silence, going over our situation. Time passed, people started to fade away. Their talking stopped. We pondered all the possibilities and though we did not understand what we had done wrong, we came to terms with our being there. We accepted where we were and that we were. We accepted that what was, what had been and what was going to be. We accepted. That, we did.
There we were by a well by a castle by a village on a plain because we wanted to listen to one man speak. Nobody was there, nobody but us. Not a breeze, not a cloud, not a soul, not a sound. Yet, his words ever so clear to us now. ‘This,’ his voice echoed,’ this is what life is all about.’ Last night, I had this dream. And you were in it. And I was in it, too. See me tomorrow.