A Dream

  I had a dream a few weeks ago.  It's one of those dreams that sticks with you, that reverberates inside your soul, that demands attention and makes you very uncomfortable.

  In my dream, I was asleep, in my bed, and directly beside the bed was a Ugandan family.  There was a mother, and a number of children, reaching out towards me.  The reality of their presence was startling.  There were no words spoken, only their presence.  For some time I continued to sleep, until finally the disturbance caused by their presence roused me to wake.

  Such was the reality of the dream that when I opened up my phone for illumination and directed it towards that side of the bed, I was shocked to discover they were not there.  For some time after my phone had gone dark I stared into the darkness, wondering about it all.

  Then I went back to sleep.

  For weeks I have been thinking about this dream, about what it means, about whether it means anything at all.  I find it hard to believe that it does not.  Perhaps it is some broad metaphor about how the children and the poor of Africa cry out in need while I, while most of America, is asleep, comfortable in our warm beds in our spacious houses, ignorant to their desperation.  It is hard to avoid the conclusion that, for most of my waking hours, they do, indeed, disappear while I go on about my life, about my business.  They are invisible while I am awake, only shattering the serenity of my slumber on rare occasion.  Even then, I can lay my head back down and return to the comforting arms of sleep while they continue to wait for the world to turn their attention to them.

  So what do I do?  That has been the question these past few weeks.  I have no solid answer, and have had no more startling dreams like that (well, except for the one last night about spreading mulch... which may not have as many metaphors waiting).  It is so easy to go about life and forget about those crying out around the world for help.  I can so readily turn off the radio when the reports come from faraway places like Uganda, like Kyrgyzstan, like the Gulf Coast.  They do not intrude upon my life, and so I push them off.

  And yet the Gospels I read call us to aid, to help, to love, to serve.  They call us to pick up our crosses, to follow the Way, the narrow way, the road that leads to eternal life.  Where does this road lead?  What is the next step?  How does the light illumine my mind so that I might see the path before my feet?  So many questions from just one dream...

  The world is waiting for my, for our, response.  Shall we continue to slumber?  Or shall we go forth as Christ's disciples?