Dream of: 23 March 1998 "Barefoot Monk In Church"

The district attorney's office was conducting an investigation of Wade (a woman who had been my legal assistant in Dallas for a few months in 1992) who was suspected of having murdered one of her children. I was happy to learn that I was being allowed to help in the investigation. I figured I was being brought in because Wade had once worked for me and I was familiar with her. While she had been my employee, I had concluded she had serious mental problems, and so I wasn't surprised to hear that she was now being accused of the murder. Although the child had still been in Wade's body when it had died, the child had been alive and considered to be a human being.

I had already devoted some thought to the matter, trying to develop a theory of the case, a theory which could be successfully presented to the jury. I concluded the most important point we needed to make was that Wade had been a "bad mother." I offered my thoughts to the attorney in charge, elaborating that Wade had had a second child, a daughter (3-4 years old) which Wade had given up to someone around the same time the child inside her had been killed — in April. However, I didn't know which event had occurred first, and I thought it was of critical importance to learn whether she had given the first daughter up first, or killed the child inside her first.

The place where the murder was supposed to have occurred seemed like a dilapidated and abandoned church. I was walking around through the pews, searching for clues, when I looked out the window toward a building on the side of the hill, behind the church. The building on the hill — about 100 meters away — had a large window which covered the whole side facing me, so I could see what was happening inside. I was surprised to see the district attorney and all the people involved in the case file into the building and sitting down at a large table, obviously to discuss the case. I was disheartened to realize I hadn't been invited to the meeting, clearly an indication I wasn't considered important enough to attend.

I turned back to the room where I was, thinking I needed to continue investigating on my own. I was surprised to see a man had walked into the room and was standing near me. He was a peculiar-looking fellow, shorter than I, probably in his late 30s, with a somewhat square figure, dressed in clothes which made me think of Russian peasants. I immediately demanded to know who he was. He didn't answer at first and I again requested his identity. Finally, he began talking hesitatingly, and explained that he was a monk.

This was completely unexpected — I had had no idea a monk inhabited this place. We both sat down and I began questioning him about Wade, trying to find out if he knew anything about her. He spoke haltingly, as if he were having trouble with the language. During the course of our conversation, however, I was able to gather several important facts. He did indeed know Wade, and he had talked with her. It also appeared there might be some proof that Wade had taken a drug which had killed the baby which had been inside her. I knew this was exactly the evidence I needed to clinch the case. However, it was unclear whether the monk would be able to testify in court. There was a question of whether Wade had "confessed" all this to the monk. If she had made a "confession," the evidence might not be able to be used against her.

The monk explained that if he were ordered to testify by his superior, he would do so. I was satisfied with that. I thought even if the monk were unable to testify about everything, he would still be able to provide critical evidence which would help our case. I couldn't wait to get back to the district attorney and the others in the district attorney's office and triumphantly show them what I had found. The monk seemed willing to accompany me, and together we stood up and headed out of the room.

Just as we were leaving, a thought struck me: I might also like to become a monk. I turned to the monk, addressed him as "Father," and asked him what I needed to do to become a monk. He looked down at his bare feet, and said the first thing I would need to do would be to start going barefoot. That was no problem. I looked at my own feet, close to the monk's feet, and saw that I, like he, was already barefoot.

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