THE DREAMSTONE VISION
Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Abby found herself in a narrow passageway made of dirt and stones and the roots of trees. She felt like a mole or a badger, an animal comfortable underground. But she was exhausted, straining to climb the steep way upward. A glow of golden light blinked far ahead, and in moments she rose up out of the ground, mapstick in hand, into a beautiful field in bright sunlight.
The field was full of people of all kinds wandering here and there, people of all ages and every walk of life. Everyone seemed vaguely familiar, but she knew no one by name. At a distance, a gigantic tree rose to the sky, a beech tree with smooth gray bark, silver branches, and dark leaves – a tree much taller and broader than anything she had ever seen before. Enormous roots like thick, curving snakes spread out across the field and disappeared into the earth. She had no idea how deep these roots went, or how high the tree grew into the endless sky. But the field itself seemed to have borders. It was not infinite. White walls were visible far, far away.
Abby became aware that the mass of people – buying and selling, walking and running, playing and working – were somehow in distress. Many seemed angry or afraid, late and in a hurry, sick and struggling in pain, or lost and unable to find their way home. Many fell into large angry throngs clearly in conflict with others. Children were shocked, timid, and miserable. Storm clouds obscured the sun. The wind picked up. She tried to approach people, asking them what the trouble was. Discussions began that she did not understand, but as she listened more people came forward, and soon Abby was surrounded by a crowd looking for answers. The pressure of so many trying to voice their anger and despair forced her to back up, and in fear she almost fled for her life. But some of those nearby gathered around to protect her. They gave her a little space, and allowed her to hold her ground.
As the day darkened with ominous clouds and a damp wind, the mapstick shone like a beacon that could be seen from a distance. Still more people moved closer, hoping to discover the secret of this eager gathering. Abby realized that listening was no longer enough. Something had to be done to organize the mob, or she and her small group of protectors would be trapped. On impulse she began to move toward the tree. Her group caught on immediately and fanned out to lead the followers along. But Abby saw that just approaching the tree would do no good because… what would happen when she reached it? She would be crushed, along with many others, as this desperate crowd fought their way forward, hoping for an answer to their despair. The people did not seem lost anymore. They actually had hope. They believed there was a goal, a destination, not far ahead. But Abby knew it wouldn’t be so easy.
So to buy time she headed off to the right side of the tree, as if they were going to walk on by. This move demoralized her following. They had hoped that arriving at the tree would end their search. The voice in her mind said, ‘You must go around, not too close and not too far away.’ And so she curved, and the vast throng curved with her, and still more people joined the march. For it had become a real march, a purposeful ever-increasing mass movement circumambulating the tree.
Suddenly Abby knew that the tree was the center of the world, the only way that people could tell where they were, and where they were going. She had to navigate their course around the tree, and move closer to its smooth, shining trunk and dark leaves. The tree could provide shelter and purpose to all, because as they marched the tree grew larger, and seemed not only the center of the world, but as big as the world, the protector and creator of meaning for all. The thought struck Abby with relief so intense that she burst into tears of happiness.
She felt herself in Wendy’s warm embrace, and wept on her shoulder. As she recovered Wendy handed her the bowl of paint and a brush, and led her to a stone along the wall where she could climb up and mark off a vacant square of the smooth surface. Blinking through tears she made signs with the brush that referred to her field of people, the tree, and the long march. It did not take long. In a daze of happiness they began the journey home.