Posts Tagged ‘beautiful fish’

I dreamed last night that I was by a large blue lake. I was eager inside; I  wanted  to fish.

Suddenly, no words spoken, someone handed me a fishing rod, baited and ready.

I cast a smallish bait fish, which had been perfectly placed on the hook,  into the large lake in front of me and immediately I felt  a taut line, a jerking in the rod and a sudden sense of surprise.   It took a few seconds to apprehend the reality — a large catch was on the line.

I reeled and immediately there at the bank, appeared a giant, blue fish, its mouth upturned,  looking straight  towards me.

It was certain that the line would break if I tried to lift the fish up the steep bank, but suddenly the fish was out of the water, on the bank, cleaned and ready to grill  — a feast prepared,  enough for a crowd of family and friends and strangers.

It’s interesting, my dreams. These days, I’m having fish dreams.

And it’s interesting, my reality. These days I’m seeing extreme need.

It’s the norm. You don’t have to go far to see it; just get out, look around, or stay home, and look inside.

Yesterday, I saw a man moving slowly home leaning into his walker.

I saw man who had to be lifted into a car, from a rolling chair, by a friend.

I saw  a  woman cry.

I saw a man who tried to talk and couldn’t.

I saw a family who didn’t have enough to eat.

I saw a woman pray, for relief.

I saw a couple try to connect after years of disconnectedness.

I saw children playing today, but I know that no one is saving money so they may one day go  to college.

What should we do, with extreme need?

Fish.

Why?

Because a rod and bait have already been handed to us …

Because there are fish in the sea waiting to be caught…

Because we must not hide from our own ….

Because more can be done than we have yet thought or imagined …

Because God himself will give us large, cooperative, blue fish to put up against extreme need…

Because of love…

More thoughts occur. They make me feel quiet.

What about you?

Come fishing with me.

Last night I dreamed.

I was fishing in  a small but deep place, the water was dark, green and beautiful.

I fished alone with an old pole that I knew well.

I put on a small lure, plain and simple.

I ran the lure deep and in the first pass took a heavy fish.

The fish ran hard under the water, pulling my pole down, then it broke the surface with a splash.

I waited for another run, the thrill of the fight, but the fish had surrendered, and I pulled it in to the bank.

It lay in front of me,  beautiful and quiet. Very gently I removed the hook from its soft, red mouth.

I looked down and admired it. It was dark green with a pattern of vertical black stripes, long, healthy, fresh and lovely.

Then the fish looked up at me and said, “We are here.”

And I threw my line back into the pool.

I’ve always been a dreamer.

When I was little I had nightmares of huge bowling ball rolling in narrow halls toward me.

When I was in college I dreamed of clocks whose hands spun quickly and of the resurrection.

Once, during a time of difficulty, I dreamed of a large Magnolia tree. A huge slab of rock had fallen into the top of it, crushing it’s branches, but around the rock grew a limb, full of dark green leaves and huge white flowers.

I receive my dreams as they are, and wait. I am a rationalist; I test everything, and yet in me there is also the mystic. I know that I don’t understand everything. We will see, and yes, we will see and then see and see again, and time will tell us what we will see.

I sit quietly this morning, and I take hope from my good dreams, and  I keep fishing.

I fish for men, women and children, trolling deep, throwing back in, hopeful of catching more beautiful ones.

Thoughts occur.

Come fishing with me.