Another dream. I was in a church, one of those dim churches where scarce light only penetrated through the open entrance doors and through the humble amount of stained glass windows. I was getting stressed because the mass was about to start in a few minutes and my choir, the Liturgical Choir, was not yet complete. The girls weren’t properly positioned and there was much noise. “Go to your proper places!”, I said out loud and added, “lets do a sound check of the entrance song now!”
We were situated in an enclosed area at the right corner at the back of the church, right beside the towering entrance doors. I signaled for the choir to start “Bayan Umawit”. To check if they were heard and if the mix of the mics were good, I walked further, towards the altar, through the middle aisle of the church.
What was odd was, halfway towards the altar, there were actually no benches to sit or kneel on. The midsection of the church was empty while a small section of benches, maybe a meager 4 or 5 rows, were right in front of the altar. The people who attended were just enough to fill those benches. In that sense, you could say the church was full.
The acoustics of the mics were terrible,I thought to myself. I could hear some voices sticking out – I needed to fix that. I realized that the people were already standing and the priest had already marched towards the eucharistic table. They thought that we already started when it was actually just a soundcheck.
As I headed back to my choir, I saw 2 men who seemed like monks, wearing brown robes with hoods on, seated facing my choristers. They seemed harmless and it was as if they were waiting for me.
“When did you get back from Europe?”, asked the first one. I could not make out how he looked as both of them were covered in hoods.
“A couple of weeks ago.”, I replied.
“Did you find any good there?”, he asked.
I don’t recall giving him a distinct answer. I remained silent. He turned to his companion and said, “How come she was there for a month and did not find any good, yet I have met you for only just one day and I have found all the goodness to be found?”
With a voice that showed much more maturity and wisdom than the first, the other man read out loud a note on his hand that wrote, “When your eyes are a witness to my world, And my eyes a witness to yours, Then we have found goodness.”
Below the note scribbled a very familiar name – Nelson Mandela. I was talking to Nelson Mandela in my dream.
I woke up and thought about those words about goodness. Curious how a dream, being just a dream, could make so much sense.