Featured Story: Keeper of the Flame of Dreams
November 1, 2009
She was just an old woman so most people thought that she wasn’t worth much anymore. Still the children gathered around her feet every evening to hear her stories.
“There was a time,” she said slowly, “when The People loved to dream and because they dreamed things happened in their lives that wouldn’t otherwise be possible. The People knew that dreaming was an essential part of living and for thousands of years they had kept their dream flame alive.
The People were very sensitive beings and very perceptive. They could see things and know things that other people couldn’t necessarily see or know. But they never considered themselves to be special. They simply believed that they were part of a vast Universe and so it was natural to follow the laws of creation.
But dark times fell on The People and terrible things happened that almost cut them off from the flame of dreams forever. Their water became strangely colored and foul tasting. Their crops dried up and beautiful exotic plants and flowers died and became extinct.
With each new loss of a fellow plant species, The People mourned their losses but they had to carry on. There was so much to do. But just at the point when they were beginning to recover, terrible winds came and ripped their animals into pieces and sent their huts flying all over the land.
By the time the winds finally died down there was nothing left at all of their village except for the tiny ember of a once brilliant fire. The People were stunned and sat around this small ember moaning and rocking in grief. What where they to do? Why had everything they needed to live been swept away?
In order to protect the tiny flame, they found a vessel to keep it in. They tried to carry on with their dreaming practices - singing, chanting and praying for life new. But each day their tiny flame seemed to flickering smaller and smaller and more of their spirit seemed to die.
“You see” said the old woman to the children, ”sometimes all that you have is a tiny flickering flame and you have to hold onto it with all of your might.”
But The People’s misery did not end there. One night while they were sleeping, a huge, black, ominous cloud came over them and began to shout, “You People, who do you think you are to dare to dream while others are suffering? You think that you know the laws of the Universe but you do not. I will put an end to your dreaming forever.”
The skies got very dark, lightening cracked and the winds howled and suddenly it began to rain. It rained and rained and rained. It rained so hard for 3 days and nights that much to their horror the vessel that held the flame was washed away.
The People huddled together trembling and scared. They had never purposely set out to harm anyone. In their hearts they believed that dreaming was part of the natural world and a way to keep things peaceful, happy and balanced for all. But now with the loss of the flame, they began to question things.
“So what do you think they did then?” the old woman asked the children. “Give up? Admit defeat?”
“No, shouted the children. “They can’t give up. They must find the flame and keep it alive.” You see, you can always trust the heart of a child to keep the dream alive.
“That’s right”, said the old woman. “The flame was more important to them then even their own lives.” So they built some boats out of reeds and set off to find the vessel.
They searched for a 100 days and 100 nights with little to eat along the way - only a few seeds and berries. But they were determined that if they searched long enough they would eventually find the flame of dreams. But the journey was very wearing and they were very tired.
After awhile they decided to stop and take a rest so they began to look for a place where they could lay down and sleep. That night one of the elders in the group had a dream. She dreamt of a cave inside of a mountain and right in the center was a fire burning brightly. The next morning when they awoke they were encouraged by the dream and so they set off in search of the mountain.
By mid day they found it and they got out of their boats and began climbing the mountain, chanting and praying, one step at a time. But just then the big black cloud appeared again. “How dare you defy me! How dare you attempt to keep the dreams alive. I will not have it.” And it began to rain so hard that The People got soaked.
They slipped and fell, got mud in their hair, their eyes, their mouths but they kept on. They continued to climb the mountain, chanting and praying, one step at a time. Not rain, nor mud, nor thunderstorm would stop them because now they were very close. They could sense it now and they began to get a wiff of smoke.
And when they reached the mouth of the cave they paused and made a prayer of thanks for right there in the very center was the tiny ember of living dreams. And the minute that the flame of dreams saw its people it got so excited that it burst into a huge roaring fire that warmed The People got warmed and they had a good meal.
“So you see without their dreams the people almost perished. But they did live on and they fanned the flame of their dreams every day. And they assigned some very special keepers to the flame of dreams so that it could never go out again. And do you know who that is?”, the old lady whispered to the children? But the children did not hear her because they were already fast asleep. “It’s you,” she whispered.
Annie Hart original, June 12, 2000
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