Well, yesterday was the first day of spring and, ironically enough, my grandmother’s funeral. Her ashes were being ‘planted’ and she will ‘sprout’ anew at the Resurrection of the Saints. I had called Brother #2 in the morning to ask if Sister-in-Law #2v3 (#2v1 and #2v2 having been left behind on life’s pathway) still had the same email address since her birthday was coming up and I want to send her glad wishes of the day. I also asked him to take pictures of the funeral. Mother said she would but will probably forget. Sister-in-Law #2v3 and Niece #2 are still in China and paperwork is in process to get them both visas
and get her a green card. He said she did and that he would inform her that I would be writing and to watch for it. He said she could also send me new pictures of Niece #2, which would be nice. I had asked him a few days ago, since he seems to have the same fondness I do for hanging on to family mementos, if he would like for me to pass on a gold cross that grandmother had passed to me when I was twelve that her grandmother had given to her when she was twelve. I thought it would make a nice gift for Niece #2 when she turned twelve. She’s only four now, but, as all children do, she’ll grow. He agreed it would be nice. Brother #1 and his family are more focused on the latest and newest of things and don’t seem to be as attached to mementos of the past, so I didn’t want to waste the gift on someone I didn’t feel would appreciate the weight of history behind it. I have a sterling silver charm bracelet that I may give to Sister-in-Law #2v3 for Christmas if she makes it to the US in time. I got it from Great Grandmother, the mother of Grandmother who just passed. It is a delicate chain with small hearts stamped “I love you”.
I was having a strange dream waking up this morning. It was one of those semi-directed dreams where a scene will pop up out of sync with a line of type visible as if I’m reading it, then the dream will rewind to play out how it would have gotten to that scene. The dream was a story, from my point of view, of course, but not as me. I was living on a farm with a budding crush on the farmer’s son, who was played by Clancy Brown. He was using a backhoe to dig out a building, looked over at me and joked, “I know, I’m doing it wrong.” It seems to be a running joke between the two of us, me always telling him how to dig out the buried remains of the buildings to preserve the treasures buried there, but who goes excavating old homesteads with a backhoe? Dreams. There’s a techno-marvel of a shining city in the distance. Already I’m sensing a dichotomy of philosophies brewing. Then it jumps to a stormy night and a large tree, I think it’s a willow, standing before me, glowing with a web pattern full of curves and circles and glowing dots. It resonates with me. Lightning strikes. I see visions of dirty, huddled children in darks dens, threadbare, frightened and the subject of para-military interest. Then the dream jumps to a time three months later. Electric things glow blue like the web when I touch them. The farms are fighting to remain free and trade without the army taking over. We discover through the visions I had in the lightning strike that the military is taking children from the farms with the newly discovered ability to touch the web and trying to use them. Trying to channel that natural force into machines to make them more powerful to take over the independent farms, turning the children into cybernetic brain batteries. My best friend from childhood is the principal of the local school. He has been recruiting children from the farms to send to schools in the city, unknowingly sending them into harm. This is where the line of type comes in. “All that is left is the echo of body warmth where his place was at my side.”
The dream rewinds to show the army surrounding our farm complex. I know Clancy and the others are fighting to release the children from a big barn-like structure across the field before the roof caves in from the fires set by the army. A nearby farmhouse of four stories has caved in already and is in flames as well. I am on my knees holding a focus stone, trying to summon power from the web as a wild storm rages. Wind, lightning, thunder to deafen the gods. The principal with a sad smile comes to kneel beside me, puts his arm around my shoulders and we concentrate together. Lightning cracks. Blue light flares blindingly even through closed eyes, then deafening silence.
I open my eyes, my friend is gone. The line of type I read makes sense. I stagger out of the building. The sun is shining, the armies are gone with no sign they were ever there. The fires are out, but we will need to re-build. Clancy is leading the children out of the barns. The dream jumps again. Clancy is digging with the backhoe, looks at me and says, “I know, I’m doing it wrong.” I look up at him. I know we are at peace. The armies are defeated. The cities have their machines. The farms have magic again. The world is in Balance. I say, “Nope. You’re doing it just right.”