In a dream I had last night, our entire family was there. Alive and of late, they crossed a gathering space like liturgical dancers. Their every movement was the note of a song, a word in a verse. Sensing a message, I followed them, shadowing their bends. Their sways.
Then I saw Swenny. He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, alone in a crowd of people who love him. I knelt before him, and without words, asked for his thoughts.
“I made a commitment,” he said. “But you should know…my next test will be very bad.”
I said nothing in answer, and settled in further. My elbow on his knee, we watched the people we love most move around us. And without us.
What does it mean? This dream I have been wearing all day, like a heavy coat too burdensome to warm? Is it a premonition? A nightmare? Or just an overnight manifestation of my growing concern for Swenny’s health and happiness?
I will never know. But as he sits on the verge of another set of tests, I ask again for you to please consider him in the week ahead. And again on the Monday that follows.
May I return to the beginning? The light is dimming. ~ Andrew Lloyd Webber