Funeral Processions

A strange and beautiful dream

 In a dream, in a vision of the night, When deep sleep falls upon men, While slumbering on their beds,  (16)  Then He opens the ears of men, And seals their instruction.  (17)  In order to turn man from his deed, And conceal pride from man,  (18)  He keeps back his soul from the Pit, And his life from perishing by the sword. Job 33:15-18

God often speaks to me in dreams and visions. I always check them against the Holy Scriptures before I share. Sometimes the dreams are for me, and sometimes they contain instructions for others.

Some dreams are just wonderful and awesome, inspiring and nurturing. That is how this dream felt. That’s why I share it with you all today. I don’t have an interpretation, but the inspiration still touches me as much as it did on the day I dreamt it - a year ago.

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Last night I dreamed of a wide covered square, like a promenade. Several groups of mourners were taking part in a choreographed tribute to their dead. Each group had a leader, while those who were behind them formed a square. Every group leader walked ahead of each square and would put down whatever she was carrying so everyone would stop. She would bow or say a prayer, then pick up what she had set down and lead a few more steps, then change the direction of the procession until they had covered North, South, East, and West.

I was walking in procession at the back of a large group of people – 100 or more - and saw a much smaller procession – maybe 20 - passing behind us. I felt nudged to join that group because they had little support, so I dropped away from the larger group and joined the back of the smaller group. The leader was a beautiful Mexican lady wearing cowboy boots, a skirt, and a jacket with leather fringe.

We approached a group of people and stopped in front of them. These people were clearly related to each other and stood quietly to receive us. There were white, black, and brown people in every group, but this group receiving us was mostly white and seemed to be related to each other, having a strong family resemblance. Many had hair the color of straw, with freckles. They had wide smiles and good-natured countenances.

They started singing a song. The entire group sang this song, and their voices were beautiful and harmonious. We who were mourning with them all sang the song with them. The affection and love that was given back and forth in this process were amazing, and as we gave to them, we were also filled.

At the song’s end, they substituted some words meant for humor – something about, “and you get Dennis Quaid” (like the little girl had a crush on him) – and everyone chuckled.

Pastora Cate

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