Of cows and maps

Blue Cow as she appears in The Story Makers.
Image via Wikipedia

Last night I dreamt that I was taking a tour of the countryside in an old-fashioned horse-car with open windows.  I didn’t know anybody in the trolley, but the mood was apprehensive, as it seemed we were there under false pretense.  Our tour guides, looked more like overseers and they were intent on making us take notice of the “attractions”.

A warm golden light illuminated the fields and it felt like the end of summer.  In the distance we could see the forest and it reminded me of an old soap commercial.  The trolley stopped abruptly and they told us to look at a herd of cows and tell them if we noticed anything different.  How could we not?  The cows were blue and they were able of complex thought and speech.   One of the cows got near our window and urged us to escape while we still could, but one of the overseers spotted her and quickly dispersed the herd.  The tour continued.

The mood inside the trolley had turned jovial.  Everyone was in awe of the cows and we all wondered what would come next.  A faint and distant sound became stronger and louder as we approached a multitude of children.  They were singing in unison, but everyone sang in their own language.  It was both harmonious and otherworldly.  We were then allowed to step out of the tram and encouraged to talk to the children.  They would tell us stories of how they’d been rescued by “The Brotherhood”.  Out of thin air, nuns materialized and gathered the children two by two, one in each hand.  We could speak to however many children we wanted to, as long as the nuns were with them.  Their stories were compelling, but something felt wrong.  When the overseers felt that we had mingled sufficiently, they asked us to form a line and to enter the trolley in an orderly fashion.

As I stood in line, a little girl caught my eye.  She had two small flags of Spain painted on her cheeks.  I asked her if she had been born there, and she said she had.  I told her I had as well.  She smiled and asked me to take her with me.  I went to grab her, but the nun stepped forward and told me that I should avoid trouble and not bring attention to myself.  I wanted to cry, and reached over to hug her, and to tell her not to worry, because I would find her and bring her to live with my family as our daughter.

She looked confused and asked me how I would be able to find her, and that’s when I noticed a cluster of dainty little moles on the top of her cheek.  Five on top, in the shape of an arch and three in the bottom, forming an angled line, like Orion’s belt.

I told her that this mark would be our map and that we would be able to find each other because of it.  We both smiled and waved goodbye.  Once the children were out of view, I was overcome with sadness and cried quietly.

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