Dream of: 03 May 1987 "Symbolic Sword"

only the power to create beauty which lasts forever matters

Kim (a friend a few years younger than I whom I first met in 1977 in my old hometown of Portsmouth, Ohio) told me that she had recently attended a theater and that she had seen a live show by Jack Nicholson. I didn't know Nicholson gave live performances, but I figured the performance had probably been a comedy routine. That Kim would have attended such a show was a bit surprising to me since I thought she seldom went out anywhere. She told me she was trying to get out more. I was curious about where she had sat in the theater and she told me she had sat in the 18th row.

As we talked, it became apparent that I wasn't actually talking with Kim at all, but with my sister, who had attended the theater with her husband James. My sister, James, and I were in a house which apparently belonged to my father. As my sister bustled about, apparently preparing to go somewhere, she mentioned that some photographs which I had once taken had been developed and were there in an envelope. I picked up the envelope and looked through the photos. I remembered having taken the photos and I thought some were of me, but as I sorted through the photos, I had difficulty focusing on the images. Finally I laid them all down, and my sister told me there was another envelope there with more photos in it. I picked up the second envelope and likewise began going through it. The photos in the second envelope were much clearer.

Several photos seemed to be pictures which I had taken in a church and they depicted Christian scenes. I tried to identify the images, some of which seemed to be pictures of mosaics. In one picture was a sword, which seemed symbolic to me. Another picture in particular caught my attention. It appeared to resemble a picture in my collection of collage pictures. I needed a moment to discern the picture clearly because the image seemed to change even as I looked at it. Basically, the picture seemed to depict a man wearing a long, flowing, red robe. One arm was outstretched as if he were handing something to someone and in his hand was a red rose. I remembered that the picture in my collage collection depicted the scene which began the War of The Roses, when the symbolical red rose had been handed to someone.

It appeared that my sister would soon be leaving. Although I used to think it was better when my sister wasn't around, I wished she weren't leaving today. I would probably be lonely without her.

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