I dreamed of a beautiful party being given at the palazzo of a great lady. She might have been a countess or a duchess or just a high-born lady. The time was about turn of the century England and it was also a contemporary time. I generally don't mind time discrepancies in dreams because heaven is beyond time. All people to be who are going to be in heaven are already there now in the truest sense. And God is in all time so he is DAILY LIVING with the countess in her own time, so He is daily living with me in my won time now and simultaneously with me.
The palazzo or manor was the place of an art festival. Artists of all kinds and sorts were there. I wanted to read some poetry and was getting dressed but had some trouble with the clothes and with the poem. I finally decided on black leather pants and jacket . Very hipster. But the poem I was supposed to read -- one that was so great that everyone likeed it and which I knew everyone would like-- was in different bits and in shredded pieces of paper. I had all these pieces of paper with the poem parts written on one side and other stuff written on the reverse. I kept all these in a little sandwich baggie but the papers kept being lost and I couldn't get all the pieces together to recreate the long poem. I began to realize I was in trouble.
The art party/conference/festival group had divided itself into two distinct groups, although other folks were milling around elsewhere. I left the large performance area in the living room and entered the dining room where another group was sitting at a large dining table with food. But it was also kind of a gaming table. Group of upper-class Englishmen --aristocratic youth-- entered or were already there. They intended to do gaming or to eat and basically to enjoy themselves. I realized the poem I had was pretty much useless and I hadn't memorized it but I still wanted to do a performance...or maybe I was signed up ...whatever it was I had the diary of the countessa who was the owner of the house. IHow I had it I don't know but I managed to slip it under her pillow as if I had never had it. I pulled it out from the pillow in her sight so she thought I was just looking at it then. I asked her if I could read her journal to the young aristocratic men gathered. She said yes. Which was pretty brave of her but she was dying so she didn't care.
Now this countess was dying and praying to die. Her name was Carole. She was very upset with her nurses and pretty indifferent to the revelers in her living room and dining room, and they were indifferent to her or to the fact that they were using her house for their revels. Some of them even hated her and judged her because of something outre she had done in the past.
I took out .the diary and said to the elite aristocratic young men, "I want to read the countess' diary." They groaned dismissively that she was a woman with a bad reputation who had dome something unseemly in her youth and had been rejected ever since. I said, "So you come to her house to eat and play but you don't respect her enough to hear her life?" That convicted them although I could tell they weren't really trying to honor her. They were just ashamed and trying to do the "right" honorable thing. They were gonna listen then leave.
So I started to read the diary to them. It started out very gently. I don't quite remember what. But she was talking about love, then her feelings of love and then her beau. I kept flipping the pages. Then I came to the entry where she told what happened, how her beloved seduced her one night and then the very next day he married another. The story was told crisply and succinctly but the power of the hurt and the grief and betrayal was evident. I looked up to see that of the eight or so men who had been there when i began reading -- and I hadn't read for so long-- only three remained. And those who had remained were truly touched by the writing. One of the men who had been the most dismissive of her -- he had dark curly hair and had said something snide and judgmental and snobbish against her-- was visibly shaken. It was as if he had been suddenly converted. That was the effect: a restoration of her honor and a telling of the true story. I don't know if the woman in the bed, the Countess named Carole, cared that her name was now cleared. But the reading affected those boys and me as well.
I so hope I don't have a kind of idea in my mind that I will die and THEN folks will understand me. But whatever it means... it would make a good little story.
Interpretation from Deb McCallYou my love are hanging on to mistakes of your past. You have not forgiven yourself and fear that on your death bed no one will forgive you or ever know the real Carole, the redeemed Carole....Somewhere in your life you have been used by others blatantly... The grand party was maybe a pre-wake or funeral of sorts in your mind. So many people from all different walks of life, some came to "use" eat and be entertained, others came to speak in your honor. You are sifting through shreds of paper trying to put together a poem to read, but the poem is shredded and no longer complete because your life has been tumultuous , (they represent your life as YOU see it). God brings clarity to your MIND and you "read" (speak) from the diary, you are relieved that you remember certain things, hurtful as they may have been, but so important to you for others to know and hear...You are redeemed, forgiven after your life has been "read"...BUT, your true redeemer is not man, it is God. I think God was telling you in this dream that HE is all that matters, not the snobs and aristocrats or even the youth, yet there WILL be and there are people who admire and love you for who you are already, those are the ones who stayed and listened and were moved by your words...VERY much like life itself, right now. Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep loving, keep trusting and listening to the Lord Carole, He is trying so hard to reach out to You and grab that hand and never allow you to let go! xxoo
No comments:
Post a Comment