Posted by: normanlgreen | April 22, 2012

Dream, April 22, 2012 priesthood, stonework & parade


Dream, home, 7:50 am
I have become a priest. Together with another officer of the church, who reminds me of my brother, I have been sent to purchase some stone to repair the exterior of our building.
We pass through narrow alleys that are filled with excited people preparing for a parade. Gigi readies some children, helping them onto a cart that she will push through the streets. She recognizes me and gives a huge smile and wave. Neither of us have to to stop and visit.
A roof comes together over the street to form an ancient covered market. My fellow priest and I stop at the open shop of a stone cutter. He glowers at us for interrupting his work. A motor-driven saw stands behind him, as do thick slices of gray sandstone. At his feet is a mop bucket, and the ground is wet. Short and powerful with eyes of polished black agate, he tells us that he does not have what we want and sends us on our way.
Soon we are in the more secluded shop of a stone dealer – he does not do his own cutting, but works in finished pieces. We have a list and a budget. Our story is that while a new plaque was inset on the front of our cathedral, some of the surrounding stonework – hundreds of years old – was damaged. The damaged stone needs to be replaced with material that will blend with the old. I show him a broken piece while my fellow priest tallies the costs on a stiff piece of paper.
The merchant shows me a repaired piece of stone in the shape of the column base that we need to repair. I hold it and find that the material on the right side is original, but to the left, a heavy plastic foam has been molded to it to continue the radius of the curved base. I feel dubious, though it does visually simulate the older material.
The merchant calls out various prices for various approaches to the problem, but no matter the solution, to price always totals to six thousand (denomination unstated, as is the country in which we are dealing). By no coincidence, this is the figure that my partner had scrawled in thick black pencil at the top on his sheet of paper. I wish he had not written it down, as the merchant has too much information to deal fairly with us.

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Responses

  1. I realize dreams are very personal things. But I felt your journey in this one. I also have a dream journal blog and seeing yours inspired me to keep mine going. Thanks.


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