Three 20-something women trying to figure out what it means to be lay, Catholic, and modern all at once.

November 11, 2010

The Climb (a dream)

Your name was my first thought this morning as I rose. I was filled with remembrance of my dream--so strong and tense, but not bad or unwelcome.

We had risen together, and wandered around the old city (which? I do not know. But it was familiar, grey, and old--like a tourist photograph of an untouched medieval town). You wanted to start the climb, but I held back.

Finally our number was called (we had a number, C9), and we joined our starting group. We were right up front, at the foot of the steep hill. The crowds in front of us began, like at a marathon. We waited, expectant, holding hands, I think (or is that a daylight wish embellishing my stark dream?).

I woke as we took our first step, my thoughts full of you.

But, upon reflection in the cold morning light, I realized that I was not I, and you were not you. I clenched my jaw, and rose for the day.

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