In a rare turn of events, last night River was able to remember his dream, but I was not. Actually, I think I woke pre-dawn, realized my dream was way more than I could legitimately handle, mentally-speaking, and then prevented myself from going back to sleep.
This was partly because my mind was racing from thoughts of last night’s compelling Bahá’í meeting at which we discussed a few key elements of community life, and also partly because my six-year-old son had crawled onto the foot of the bed, and was battling with me for room to stretch out. (Invariably, this ruins early-morning sleep for me, because he is an early riser, and does not really go back to sleep when he crawls into bed with us at 6:00 am. Thus he fusses and fiddles and jostles about, and I drift in and out of my reverie feeling increasingly annoyed with him, until I give up, and he joyfully hops out of bed as well.)
Last night’s meeting must have affected River, too, because he dreamt that a few of us Bahá’ís, including our beloved Auxiliary Board member (ABM—who was present at the meeting), were a sort of SWAT police force in our city, engaged in some kind of civic protection emergency. In the dream, a bunch of us showed up in a specially-rigged van at someone’s home, apparently in dire need, and we were there to provide something. Upon walking into the house, he said the ABM was already there, in a specially-rigged outfit, of course (some kind of yellow lettering on the back of the padded vest, no doubt), and indicated that the situation, whatever it was, had been handled. Everything was under control—we could disperse.
The plan from there was to go to the ABM’s house for lunch. River said the group of Bahá’ís drove the special SWAT van there and unloaded a specially-rigged cooler filled with handy picnic fare. At this point in the dream, he said, I was definitely present, already inside; perhaps I had been there all along. Also at this point, it was apparent that a newborn baby was among us. River said it seemed like the baby lived with the ABM, maybe as her grandchild, but he wondered where it had been during the just-ended ordeal, since newborn babies require constant care.
The baby was extremely tiny. It was the size of a softball, or barely bigger than that. River held it in both hands and said it was really cute. Then it started to suck on his finger. Having raised three babies in quick succession, and having held them a lot, it’s pretty natural that in a dream, a newborn baby would start sucking on his finger. His response was natural, too: “Hey, this baby seems hungry,” he called out to the apparent grandmother.
She was out of the room, though, and not entirely responsive to the evident immediate need of the baby. At this point, River says, I volunteered to help out. I took the baby and held it close. Then I called out, “I think I can nurse the baby,” but the ABM did not hear me very well, as she was still out of the room. Then, River says, I lifted my shirt, and milk was dripping from me. I easily nursed the baby this way. The ABM returned to the room, and was a bit taken aback. But I think it was alright. (I hope it was alright—I hate to offend a third party like that, as a presence in someone else’s dream.)
My own dream was similarly filled with bizarre turns of events and haphazard efforts at making the world a better place, but I blocked it out, because I’m afraid of my own thoughts on the subject. At least, today I am.
As for the baby, I take it to mean new initiative, which many things are right now in our community life. Much of our discussion last night was focused on how, essentially, you cannot expect a sapling to burst forth with fruit. It has to strengthen, and grow, and be capable of actually supporting the weight. It’s applicable to all the ways the Bahá’ís are striving to make a difference and walk the talk, whether it’s our belief in the unity of humankind, abolishing all forms of prejudice, elimination of the extremes of wealth and poverty, investing in the spiritual education of all the children in our city or enacting our belief in the essential equality of women and men. It’s a lot of things to live out and be. We owe it to ourselves to give some nurturing, but on a small scale, in ways where one person can make a difference, humbly.