Last night I dreamt of myself with an eye that seemed to see a full spectrum rather than an outward vision, I dreamt about the resilient woman I have always dreamt of becoming; myself today. There was a sense of wholeness in this inner vision of myself. My steps underneath the fuchsia bougainvilleas and lemon trees were almost supernatural, almost mystical. I saw her sitting there on her balcony, henna in her fingertips, a headscarf, in her usual chair, her usual smile when she sees me, with a cup of wild basil black tea, her usual ritual after she tends to her garden, only there was a beautiful tiger. A woman in her 80’s taming a tiger. She looked at me and smiled. My breath was taken away. “I’ve missed you,” I gasped.
Where in the arts and literature did the great of us forget to mention what death is and what a peculiar thing it is for it to still come as a surprise for us, even though it’s the only undebatable fact that exists.
All I can tell you, with respect to the great minds of whoever tried to make sense of what it means for a person to leave this world and never come back, is that she came to me. And in the sense of my wholeness, I was reminded of the hole she left. In that I understood that absolute contrasts exist nowhere but in the human psyche. You can be whole somewhere inside and incomplete in another.
She came to me, it was nothing supernatural. She came to me and showed me the dichotomy of human feelings; I was both relieved; to see her again, and sad; that I can only feel her in my dreams.
What strange beings we are, to be able to carry both joy and sorrow in our bodies wherever we go. Nothing supernatural. Just humans.
-Alia S. F.