Last night my friend Dorothea visited me.
I don't often remember dreams, but I woke up this morning remembering a very vivid encounter with her. I can't remember any dream like this one.
A husband and daughter and successful career as a poet and educator later, Dorothea discovered Post-Polio Syndrome robbing her of her mobility and independence. She spent more and more time in her wheelchair, and ultimately lost any ability to walk at all.
She was in a lot of pain, and pretty grumpy, but by not buying into her attempt at self-pity, I was able to get her laughing before I left. She had a great laugh.
She died before I got home from my combat deployment.
I miss her.
A great many of my friends and relatives have died. I miss them all.
Dorothea is the only one who's come to visit me, though.
In the dream, she was still disabled, and asked me to help her move. That was quite a scene.
But then, all of a sudden, she jumped up and pirouetted in the air, landing nimbly on her feet, laughing and smiling.
Then I woke up.
Yesterday was her bithday.
Blessings and peace to one and all,
Fr. Tim, SJ