This morning I woke from a vivid dream that dangled, in front of me, a small key just within an arms reach. The dream still sits patiently under my tree of my consciousness, cleanly wrapped in ribbons that trail teasingly. I’ve been eager to open and reveal the gift’s secrets in the silence of this morning’s walk, and the present’s moment has finally come.

At first, the recalled details of the night vision seem irrelevant, unrelated and outright odd. The obvious silliness of my vague memory of girls frying eggs seems highly unlikely to hold anything of value….

But I am open enough to allow a little lunar light the opportunity to illuminate some of the darkness of my doubt.

So I play.

I draw simple sketches of the most memorable images. I write out fanciful captions to the pictures. I begin to build a dictionary of the symbols and archetypes and their definitions in accordance to my Living Dictionary. Then I draw lines connecting words to images and then connecting the images back to words again. And when the dots have finally been connected, I begin to translate the message of the story that came to me last night;

A ceremonial fire is burning. Persons dance on the outskirts of the fire circle. They know something that I do not. And in this vision, I, as a body, do not exist. I am an unobserved observer.

Two children step forward and appear behind the fire. They stand side by side and it is obvious that one is older than the other. One is taller and her hair is also longer and I guess her age to be about 13. The other is smaller and younger, perhaps around the age of seven. The adolescent girl and the child hold matching items in their hands. They each delicately hold to their hearts one, large, white egg. Both girls are scared, and as I look into their frightened eyes, I look into the mirrors of Time and am startled to recognize that both of these girls — are me.

Suddenly the dancing stops. Another observer, who is also unobserved, makes a silent command.

The adolescent-me is overwhelmed in fear. She clenches the egg closer to her chest and hesitates with pleading eyes. But the observer that stands invisibly beside me repeats the silent command and the girl steps forward to the fire. As the understanding of the dancers dawns upon me, something leaps from inside and reaches out to the girl in a desperate attempt to save that which is about to be sacrificed.

But neither am I granted any such permissions. And I am horrified as I watch the girl pull the egg from her own embrace and in one quick motion, drop the unborn life directly into the fire.

The fire greedily consumes the fresh offering.

A blankness clouds over the eyes the adolescent girl and she turns to the darkness behind her and disappears.

Having turned to watch her sister disappear, the child-me now turns to the fire again and trembles with unrestrained fear.

The fire, excited by its taste of Life and expectant of another, rises up, and my vision of the terrified small child is almost enveloped in its enormity. As loudly as I can soundlessly yell, my soul screams to see the child.

Suddenly another silent signal is sent.

The fire drops, but does not extinguish. It reluctantly, but humbly, lowers beneath the vision of the child and she looks across the fire and for the first time — sees me.

At the moment our eyes meet, I am completely overwhelmed by her fear. And at this moment, I find that the egg is suddenly in my own desperate and delicate hold. My heart travels to my hands as I feel the pulse of the life within it.

The fire flickers.

The fear resurges.

But from across the fire, one last silent signal is sent.

The fire, in response, immediately calms. But the woman I see across it shows no such relief. She looks through me and I find I can read her thoughts.

She wonders if I have the strength within me to succeed the the path of my sister-self. She ponders if I fully appreciate the gift of life I have been granted at the sacrificial alter of another. She questions if I comprehend the responsibility and delicacy of my task. And finally she looks at me from across the fire and asks with searching eyes; What will you do with this precious life?