I've been so tired over the last few weeks that when I've slept, I've slept deeply, remembering only a very few in full, but many fragments. Last night I had a very full, very vivid dream about being in a castle with one of my best friends, who was dancing off on her own everywhere about the castle. There was a sense of...crossroads and chaos, with the odd person - fire-eater, juggler, and so on floating through the dream.
There was a huge suspension bridge on the grounds, one that felt so vast that it was terrifying to cross. There was always a thrill stepping onto it, an awareness that it led far beyond just another point on the castle grounds. As soon as I stepped on it, I was in conversation with an angel, one who never materialised, but was very present. I wish I could remember the conversation I was having with him when I crossed the first part of the suspension bridge one morning, carrying a package across. The bridge zigzagged across the grounds in labyrinthine fashion, in what seemed to be an infinite number of gleaming white sections.
The next thing I remember is a dark night, a new moon. I needed to cross the bridge; I knew that. The section I had crossed was no problem, and I was sure that I could cross the next one. The angel's voice was muffled now, though I could hear him questioning my need to cross it at night, my need to prove I could do it at night, at the darkest time.
I crossed the first part of the suspension bridge, came off it, and approached what looked like a darkened guard house, one that housed something that terrified me more the closer I came to it. But despite the immense resistance, I doggedly moved forward until I hit an invisible wall and I heard/thought, 'Why do you always need to push yourself too far? Maybe you need to stop.'
'But I need to cross.'
'Do you need to cross now? Or can you step back and wait?'
For once, I listened.
As I walked back down the suspension bridge, I looked up to where I thought the angel should be and sobbed, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know my faith isn't great enough. I'm sorry.'
'Or maybe,' came the gentle response, 'it wasn't time - you weren't ready.'