The Box . . . . 12/27/2009
 It was about six weeks ago I had a dream while in a deep slumber in the wee hours of the night. I was somewhere I do not remember perhaps in a land of unknown origins. A sense of urgency came over me and this little old lady appeared before me huddled over and with a most dreary look upon her face. She handed me a box and told me to keep it in my possession and give to no one. Then she disappeared and I was off in another scene which to my disgust, I have since forgotten as is the case of many of our subconscious nocturnal encounters. I had forgotten about this until the most amazing thing came to be last week. I was outside a gift shop at the beach and for some strange reason was drawn a few feet away to where an old antique store was located near the back parking lot. It was filled with a myriad of old retro stuff from the 1930’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. I made my way along the storefront peering in at the windows with no intent to enter within. As I came to the last array of cluttered and water stained windows, my eyes went to a curio cabinet behind a post where a partial view of a most interesting wooden box was resting. My mind flashed back to my dream six weeks hence and I thought “could this be?” I rushed inside and made my way through an endless maze of pathways bordered with clutter to the tall glass cabinet. To my wonder was this the same box that appeared in my dream given to me by the old woman? I stood there in a short daze while at the same time retrieving the item from its dusty loft. Of course I made the purchase and it is now residing upon my desktop. I have spent a bit of time gazing at the box, feeling its contours and rough carvings of the sun, moon and stars. An old tattered hand written paper note inside said “Handcrafted in South Africa”. It is indeed a curio box of sorts in more ways than one. I was in that antique shop about a year and a half ago browsing and amusing myself reflecting back on some of my childhood paraphernalia. Could it have been that I saw this box and it entered some small fold in my brain and was finally summoned to play a part in such a fantasy dream? Or was it the dream in some unconscious state that led me to the box. The fate of this encounter perhaps will never be known or maybe, just maybe revealed yet further in some distant episode in the wide world of dreams. Meanwhile, my guess is that I am the ‘keeper’ of the box. Comments Your comment will be posted after it is approved. Leave a Reply | "The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself." - Henry Miller
 A Little Insight To My BlogPat's Whispers are a short gathering of words from my imagination for you to ponder. A spattering of this and that, pomp and prose and almost anything else to wonder. ArchivesAugust 2010 Categories |
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