A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was in the corridor of a hospital. There were about 12-15 women there, all wearing beautifully adorned chadors in jewel colors - deep blues, reds and golds. They were all sitting on benches or standing in the hallway of this hospital waiting to hear news of a women relative who was there having a baby. In among the women were two or three men, including the husband of the laboring mother, all anxiously waiting for news. The atmosphere was festive and talkative. There was going to be a party at someone's house as soon as the baby was born, and everyone was pretty happy.
On the walls were photos of a pretty young woman wearing a black headscarf and a very serious expression. There was no text with the photos, but I knew that she was an activist of some sort who was there in the hospital because she was dying. She wasn't sick, she was dying as a protest. She had simply decided that she was going to die, and without doing anything like taking poison or starving herself, she sickened. I looked at the pictures of this serious woman in black and at all the happy women around me dressed like lovely exotic birds.
A murmur went through the crowd as the doctor came out of the delivery room holding the red, squirming baby. "It's a boy!" The father looked at the baby and smiled, saying "Yeah, he looks just like me!" Everyone laughed and clapped him on the back, and all got up to leave. As they were filing out, the word went through the crowd that the activist had, in fact, died just then. The women in the group all pressed their lips together and nodded. It seemed that they weren't surprised in the least. They knew that it would happen and they seemed to think that things were as they should be.
I felt very conscious of being on the outside, an observer, in a thing whose meaning I did not understand and was not meant to understand.
This dream happened three days ago, and yesterday I went to the Baby Goddess' school to drop her off. Monira, a grandmotherly woman who's there in the mornings smiled and I told her about the dream, as she had been one of the women in the hospital corridor. Her eyes got huge and she became very serious. She said that she thought it was strange that I should be dreaming about her.
This morning, she came and put her arms around me and told me that she had talked to her daughters and her sisters and told them about the dream. Apparently, I dreamed a thing that had happened to them. She told me that they were all very flattered that I was dreaming about them, especially as the things that are happening to them are happening in Egypt, where Monira's family lives.
It's always strange to find out how connected we all are to each other.