Time speeds up and slows down. It passes through sand and windstorms. It comforts us in rain and pulls us through sunshine filled days and bright moonlit nights. Time hustles. Time procrastinates. It never stops, always moving forward.
And yet there are holes. I distinctly remember being led in dream time by my grandmother. This was after she died and I was trying to understand time in a different format. I remember telling this to Dan Goldman because he was a dream traveler as well.
It started in a small home. The old woman who kept it kept coming back and forth into the dining room where I was standing. There was a grandfather clock in the room and a china cabinet. It was dark chestnut and had a doily over the top. The chairs had doilies too and I kept thinking I wasn’t in this time. She was worried that I would forget my brother. “I don’t have a brother.” I said and she looked at me shaking her head. “Of course you do, he just doesn’t live with you.” She goes back and forth preparing tea telling me my grandmother will be there in a bit. It’s early 1940’s. I can tell by the radio, the house, her hair. A few minutes goes by and she comes in. “Your grandmother called and she wants you to meet her at the library.” She’s ushering me out the door now.”I don’t know where the library is.” I protest. Again she shakes her head. “Of course you do. Now go before the storm comes!”
I look up and the clouds are rolling in. I’m confused as the sky and the world around me seems to be shifting back and forth from color to black and white. I somehow mange to make it to the library. The old woman was right. I knew where it was.
Inside there are tables, long tables of that same dark wood and the stacks are far larger than I’ve ever seen. This is the most beautifully crafted library I have ever seen. I walk up to the librarian. “I’m here to see my grandmother.” She nods and points to a table. “What is everyone studying?” I ask. There are rows and rows of people all dressed differently, noses in large beautifully scripted books. “Every religious text in the world.” She smiles. “Even the secret ones.”
My grandmother taps me on the shoulder and I give her a hug. “Why am I here? Do you have messages?” She shakes her head. “I need to show you something. It’s important because you’ll take over when it’s time.” I nod and link my arm in hers. “Great I’ve only gotten here and I already have purpose.” She laughs at me as we walk outside. The sky shifts again and this time I see what’s happening. There are time leaks, the black and white past leaking with the present. Only in this world you can see it. In ours it’s invisible to the naked eye. Fighter planes roar through the sky, invisible bullets, and visible bombs dropped. I cover my head and run through the field.
My grandmother and I stop in front of a tall fence. Women with children run towards it. Men in what looks like prison garb slam against it. People everywhere claw at it, climbing only to fall back down. I back away from it. My grandmother follows me. “You’re the only one that can climb it.” She says to me.
"Oh I don’t believe that at all." I tell her. "What are they doing?"
She looks at me saddened. “They’re lost. They don’t know they’re dead, stuck in the war. It’s my job to make them understand that there’s more than just the fence right there. Once they understand and truly understand they are sent to the library. It’s there they can study and choose what happens next.”
A bomb drops and at the same time a mine field goes off. I start to run towards the fence and start climbing. I reach for my grandmother’s hand in a last attempt to take her with me. She shakes her head. “You’re on the right path.” She says, “now climb the rest of the fence. I’m proud of you.” I climb, I fall, I awake to another day.
Queen of everything. Queen of nothing. Queen of hearts.
“It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.”
― George Harrison