a dream

Saturday Jan 10, 2008

I just woke from a dream. In it, I was back in my hometown of Belleville for a short visit. I had been asked to give a talk in church about Haiti, and I tried to summarize my experiences thus far, tried to relay some grand message. Mom sat tearful with pride on the front row, but the rest of the congregation was restless, talking amongst themselves, getting up and leaving frequently, not really interested in my presentation. I had had a list of quotes written out that I wanted to present, but someone had lost them. So I was left to try to speak completely off the cuff. The funny thing was that the dream wasn’t panicked; I don’t remember feeling annoyed or sad watching people in their impatience. Maybe it speaks to the new attitude of acceptance I’ve had lately, to the process of having to drive without a manual, to work off the cuff. I’m not sure what the people stood for. Maybe I know that my message is still developing and I don't have the answers. Maybe I know this well enough that when people stand up to leave the room while I’m talking, I’m not bothered. Likely it was just a dream. But regardless, I know my mother loves me.

I remember a conversation with a Haitian man who had lived in exile in the States since the Duvalier regimen. When telling about his life story, he described the challenges of having to flee a foreign country in fear of his life, integrating into a country that didn’t fully trust him, where racism has affected his own work and the lives of his children. “It must make you angry,” I said. “No, I didn't let it bother me much. My mother loved me. She thought I was the best thing on earth, she thought I was smarter than Einstein. And as long as your mother loves you, you can do anything.”