Written by Elaine Chatwin
There have been times in my life when I have really had to sit down and contemplate the big questions. The 4 years between 2003 and 2007 were surely such a time. Over those 4 years I journeyed with both my husband’s older and younger brother and my parents as they left this life.
The daily walk of my life became dreamlike, almost surreal, and I found my creative energy dreamlike and surreal as well. The most interesting aspect of this process was the blurring of the boundaries – was it life that I was dreaming – or is it death that is the dreaming? As I explored this question through poetry and painting I relaxed into the knowing that I just don’t know the answer. In the end maybe it’s just all one continuing experience…
SMALL DREAMS
When I entered your room I was not sure where to sit.
I chose the end of your bed
With my knees tucked up, my long cotton skirt
Lay down and down upon my toes.
There were so many things I did not say to you,
They were about my sadness
Were about me not wanting you to leave.
You drifted in and out of sleep
And at one awakening seemed surprised
To see me and the cat feline-curled in front of you.
“I feel like someone is making small dreams for me” you said.
I smiled and thought about the irony of that.
For when I watched you sleeping lightly I dreamt
Your beauty had transfigured you
Until you became Christ in Mary’s arms.
Moments later you sat up
And moved to open the glass doors
“The breeze feels good” you remarked.
I wondered how you had become Lazarus rising up from your bed.
But when you lay back down I knew
That your walking was an illusion and you were after all
Leaving.
I cradled your face in my hands
All the while thinking
That someone was making small dreams for me.