A brush with grace - a night of lovely dreams

It was a gentle face, with a warmth like fire and the sensitivity of bird-song in the morning - the touch of grace which was a balm to my anxious mind.

"I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us." Anne Lamott

For the last few nights I have had really horrible dreams. I have woken up feeling down and miserable. I have found it difficult to get to sleep in the first place, and often tried a film or listening to music to distract me.

 The power of a good sleep, a really good beautiful sleep is the best tonic of restoration. I went to bed at greater peace, and decided not to look at my laptop once more after my bath. In its place, I switched on my bedside lamp and opened a Michael Morpurgo children's book, The Butterfly Lion - I slept like a happy child.  Last night, I had a series of powerful, lovely dreams. I woke up this morning feeling blissful, energized and I looked at things freshly. I cannot describe the sensation, other than it felt like the touch of grace.

I cannot explain it. It is impossible to capture in words. It was so much more colourful and beautiful, and I am already forgetting parts. But I wanted to share the experience. There were other cool dreams. In one dream I met my favourite musical artist, Macklemore, in a small gig. I was near the front so I got to shake his hand after one of his sets. I also was on holiday with my mum, and one of my old friends, in some seaside resort. But the encounter with a man in white, who took off his hat and looked at me gently, has instilled in me a renewed soul.

In this one, the most impressionable,  I came face to face with Pope Francis, as he was descending from a staircase. Any tension within me was immediately dispelled, and I was bathed in this sense of peace, love and kindness. I cannot say what it was, but there was a great, beautiful presence emanating and contained in this figure: He was close to God. Being a dream he changed form, and became someone I knew - a kindly soul from my Catholic community - nonetheless in the the logic of the dream he was still the Pope. Or another way of sharing this feeling is that the external face had changed; but it was the same person or presence in front of me. He talked and reassured me about something I have already forgotten; and then all I could see were these oval, large, old eyes: calm as the sea. It wasn't an actual event but it did marvels for my spirit, it was like a holiday.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Never are they in that much clarity and rarely do my dreams feel so real. I don't know why it happened, or why it has moved me as profoundly as it did. But I would like, no love, to believe it was the touch of grace coming to me at a moment when I had felt lonely, down and anxious for coming exams. Gotta love the little things in life: My heart is thankful, and content.



Psalm 23
Yahweh is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
In grassy meadows he lets me lie.

By tranquil streams he leads me
to restore my spirit.

He guides me in paths of saving justice
as befits his name.

Even were I to walk in a ravine as dark as death
I should fear no danger, for you are at my side.
Your staff and your crook are there to soothe me.

You prepare a table for me
under the eyes of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup brims over.

Kindness and faithful love pursue me every day of my life.
I make my home in the house of Yahweh
for all time to come.