Remembered Peace

This evening I took a nap, and dreamt that I was alone in a sprawling, modern mansion. It was night, the place was dark, and I thought that I might watch a horror TV show on Blu ray (it could have been the X-FILES), when I heard a loud noise outside.

Looking out the window, I saw a truck passing by on an elevated road. Then I realized -- "Oh! I'm in Montréal, in a house owned by the family of my last girlfriend. She'll be here in just a few minutes; I wonder if seeing me again, unexpectedly, might be awkward for her?"

I began to run down a long flight of pitch-black stairs, to meet her at the front door, and on the way I felt a surge of pure love.

Then I woke up to find myself in late evening sunlight. There might as well have been a sun within me, because I felt a sense of well-being, of wholeness, that I had not felt in a long, long time. It was a memory of my inner peace whenever I was going to see her: I was complete, unbroken, at ease within myself.

I lay in the sunlight and held onto that remembered peace for as long as I could.