Last night, I finished Week 5 of the Donec Formetur retreat. I emailed Sr. Kathryn to let her know. I went to bed, fell asleep, and dreamed a dream that encapsulated the fruits of Week 5.
The dream was one of those novel-length adventure dreams with multiple characters, plot lines and twists and turns. My husband and family were in it, even my two dead sons. We were on vacation, met up with some shady characters, defeated them, I protected my kids, kept them safe.
It was good, all good. I even looked at the dream world at one point and thought to myself, as its creator, "Rae looked and saw that it was good." Yeah, yeah, I know, a God complex. But to this point, a good one. In His image.
Then it turned bad. As in my own life things turn bad. When I get too cocky. Too independent. The God complex turns rabid on me. Instead of "until He be formed in me" (ie. "donec formetur") I become the Mad Creator. God of my own life.
When the dream turned bad, I wiped it out. I thought of the world of Noah's time, and the wiping out, and the starting over. I made my dream world end. I thought it out of existence. It did not die quickly, but imploded. As the shapes and colors (and people!) became dense and folded into each other I said to them, "I am not destroying you because I don't love you. I love you. I love you, all my family. I love you, my creatures and my creation."
After the dream world imploded, all was perfectly white for an instant. The white winked out and I was in a place of great physical beauty and order. Colors so crisp you could cry. A beautiful home, which I recognized as my own. I became afraid. Would it turn ugly too? Would I make it turn ugly?
A child entered. He had red hair and a beautiful face, but he was retarded. I was attracted to his beauty but repelled by his stupidity. What I had told Sr. Kathryn went through my mind, that a good mind without a good heart was worthless. Obviously the child had a good heart. So who was I to judge him because he did not have a good mind?
I started walking with him, telling myself to stay close to him. If I stayed close to him, the world would not turn ugly on me. We were no longer in the house but in a mall, indoors.
We passed a San Damiano cross hanging on the wall. I said to the child, "Can you tell me about the Christ?"
He looked up and said, in pleased wonder, "You know about the Christ?"
"Yes, but tell me his story."
"I'll tell you the story as I learned it a long time ago," he said, and took my hand.
We passed a Pauline book and media display. On the table was a sign with the names of the people manning the booth. I looked, and there was my name, "Rae", I was listed there with the Paulines!
I was filled with happiness. Then I woke up.