Photo: Sea, by James Carty
by Violet White
(a true description of a dream I had the other night VW 10.2.25)
The day before yesterday, just before dawn,
most of the night’s sleep done, I dreamed a
short, sweet cameo of a dream. It seemed I was
hearing laughter – deep, resounding laughter;
glorious waves, rumbling like the mighty Ocean,
ebbing and flowing and rising and breaking.
It was not a mild amusement. Nor was it a splitting
of sides. Neither was it a passing hilarity enjoined to
a drift of banter, such as one might offer congenially
to an assembled company. There were people round
a table. But I didn’t see them. The One laughing
was also at the table. And also was not at the table,
sitting within a 12” of its rounded edge, facing me,
filling my vision. Wise. Like your Grandad, living
to a 100 or so, sitting, Methuselah-style, straddling
a wooden kitchen chair, still in his working gear.
Wise like the foundations of the Heavens and the
Earth. Wise, but not aloof. The laughter was related
to something said. But not occasioned by it. Because
the laughter had always been there. A bottom line.
If you heard that laughter you would not doubt its
gravity. And as it washed me to the edge of waking,
I understood. And that understanding rose up in me
as a simplicity of great joy, seeping into every part.
For I could see the laughter swallowing, line by line,
an imperial scheme to steal Gaza from her people.
And I knew that the One laughing was the absolute
Mother and Father of a God. And the whole universe
was on its feet applauding; clapping its hands and
cheering, to see the Children coming into their own.
