I had a dream, two dreams actually that vaguely follow this scenario: Much like the fantasy novels I’ve been reading lately, there is a young man in my dreams who is quite extraordinary.
However, he has only recently discovered how special he is. He grew up knowing nothing of his true identity, but suddenly it is revealed that he is a leader, a king, a warrior, a savior a sorcerer. It is prophesized that he will save the world, and while he travels with an entourage of devout followers and warriors for his cause, many are out to stop him, kill him, end the prophesy and make the days of man dark and ugly.

In the second dream, which I remember more clearly, I am part of his entourage. I had always known him, and when he learns of his new role, I am the first to accept it. I embrace it before even he understands what has happened.

In the dream, I am very unselfish, none of the reality of the jealous “why aren’t I the special one?” or the pride “he is special, so by association, I am too.” In the dream, I understand true humility.

I carry with me a basket of sweet grass and wild flowers, and I spread them out before his feet on the path. And he asks me why I’ve done this. I don’t remember my answer. I don’t remember answering. I remember I loved him. I remember it was so easy to love him, without jealousy or pride or possession. I remember knowing that what is on the ground, beneath his feet is more blessed than that which has never known him.

Messianic, yes I know.

He was beautiful, and I miss knowing him as I knew him in my dream. It was only last night and I miss knowing him.