my dream

So a couple of us had posted about dreams a while back, I being one of them. I never shared a dream though, mostly because all the dreams I have aren't anything special when told, only when seen, when felt. But last night or during today rather when I was lying in bed, afflicted by mono or swine flu, I had a dream that really touched me. I’ll explain it as best as I can, but remember, dreams are hard to tell. It’s a short one though, so it shouldn't be hard to follow. 

I was sitting in a car, waiting outside of a school. It was dark out and no one was around, but I felt sure that I was suppose to be there, patiently waiting, staring out the window at some unseen target.  The school was one of brick, an old style one. It was rose above its surrounding landscape, establishing its power, history and prestige. In front of the school was a playground which would have added cheer to the imposing castle of a school had it not been for the mask of night. There were a few trees whose massive size suggested they had been there as long as the school had stood. I could just barely make out a chain fence on the left side of the school, fencing in the backyard I assume. It was quiet out, a windless summer day.

Then I saw a small figure run through the dark. This must have been what I was waiting for because I neither felt surprised nor scared, simply ready. I sat up in my seat and just as I did so I saw a more powerful, equally as shadowed figure run after the one before it. He was chasing it. After I saw this I got out of the car and ran after the two. The smaller figure had been stopped by the fence and the larger one had just caught up to it. As I reached the two, the police came. It was obvious in the dream that the larger figure had been up to no good and I assume he was taken away because I don’t remember much of this part. The dream cuts to me standing with the kid, talking to him as he thanks me. 

We’re walking around the chained backyard, talking when we see a group of older gentlemen. One of them is in a wheelchair. What must have been the head of school is leading them around the grounds, giving them a tour when they stop in front of us. The headmaster gives his thanks to me and introduces me to the older group. They are apparently the founders of the school, and from their appearance, this school was created some time ago.  The gentlemen in the wheelchair seems to be the worse off, barely able to keep his head from falling into his lap. We speak for a bit and then say our good byes. 

As they walk one way, and the child and I walk the other way, I suddenly stop. I turn around and run after the old men. As I call for them to stop, they turn around and watch as I make a fool of myself, sprinting after them. I catch up to them and stand in front of the man in the wheelchair. I reach my hand out towards his face, and gently place my hand on the wrinkled flesh of his cheek, lifting his face so my eyes look into his. As I look at him, I say only one thing:

“The kindness of one generation is never forgotten, their generosity is never gone to waste.”

As I say this sentence to the old man, he begins to cry. His weathered skin becomes stained with tears as all worries seem to be put to rest. Here is a man who has had one goal in life, to know he has made a difference. And as I spoke these words to him, he knows, he knows that his life has been worth it. So he cries. He cries because he is happy now. He cries because this is all he ever wanted.  And as he cries, he is released, and you can feel it. When I saw him cry, I felt his joy because it is the same joy I long for.

It was amazing.

Peace.