I dreamed a curly headed man with russet beard and swishly banded feathered fine-brimmed hat clasps a heaven-hid woman’s hand descending out of a sleeve of cloud. Prevailing space obscured meant I couldn’t see her body, arm or face.
“Hold on. Hold on to love”, her words descending as a hand from nowhere. Out of her spongy light-flecked cloud she tendered a far finer guidance than all the scriptures and more than all my hope and longing could fill.
I dreamed the cloud lifted and I saw my mother.