The Answers in Dreams.
Eternally Dust.
I had a question, like so many do, that no one, it seemed, could answer. (Which, honestly, pissed me off.) My question, however, was not brought upon by the lack of knowledge, but by the curiosity that killed that poor cat. (No worries. Satisfaction brought it back.)
My question was realized as I listened to a song, that, doubtless, you've probably heard before. Even if you dislike the band. 'Dust in the Wind' by Kansas.
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
Yet all we are is dust in the wind.
Does this make us eternal?
I pondered the question for many months, asking anyone I believed could answer it. When no answer satisfied my curiosity, I began simply to look inside myself. And one night, in my sleep, the answer came to me.
I was walking down a dirt road, in the country. One of those ones that goes on for miles, through fields of grass, over hills, winding through trees, yes, one of those. It was so quiet, the endless feeling of solitude, and yet contentment. In my hand, I carried a brown paper bag, and I walked this road. For miles, I walked, enjoying the sun, and the birds, and the freedom. I felt no hunger, no thirst. And on I trekked.
A gentle breeze stirred the dry earth before me, and blew the dust around me as I walked. I saw everything with the kind of internal clarity that only comes in dreams. But this was not a normal dream. Something felt different.
As I neared the third or so stretch of wooded area, I came across a man sitting Indian style in the shade of a giant, silvery willow tree. He called to me, and I felt drawn to him. I do not, in some ways, remember his face well, but his eyes, and his voice, these things will never desert me. His eyes were a dark, rich, chocolaty brown, and his voice flowed like honey and cool water over mountains. Like the very spring day on which we came to cross paths. We spoke for a few moments, about the weather, and the sounds of the birds.
But I noticed every so often, his gaze would stray to the bag I had set beside me. The third time I saw this, I offered it to him, and his chocolate eyes lit up in surprise, but he took the bag, and from it pulled a small loaf, like a roll, of bread, which he ate with small dainty bites. Next from the bag, he brought a bottle of water, and he drank it like the thirstiest man on earth. Then he pulled forth an apple, and ate this too. When he was done, he looked at me, and murmured softly. "Good things come in threes." I smiled, as this seemed to be the case. The third set of threes. The third hungry glance, the third fruit of earth.
He looked at me, those chocolate eyes boring into my soul, and asked me how he could repay me for my kindness. To which I replied, "I want for nothing, and search only for answers, and truth, and knowledge." He smiled at me. "A commendable quest, young one." He told me. "What question weighs upon your soul, my child?"
"They say," I said, softly, like the secret the angels tell us when we're born, "They say nothing lasts forever, but the earth and sky. Yet all we are is dust in the wind. Does this make us eternal?" And he smiled at me, a secret smile, the smile of one who knows much but tells little, "I know the answer, young one, to your question." I leaned forward eagerly. "We come about by earth, heavy, solid clay, and when we die, we return to Her, Terra. And as repayment for our lives well spent, and punishment for the sins of our souls, we remain, not clay, but as dust, for the wind, the very breath of God, to blow eternally on Terra. Our gift is freedom; our redemption in His eyes achieved only by eternal wandering, forever alone, and cast about by the ploys of God. The variable mark of Cain, that which changes like the wind."
~Michelle Daniels. Conversations with Dreams.