Dreams

When I became old enough to drive, I made it my mission to explore the world around me for treasures beyond my greatest imaginings: old postcards addressed to people I'd never known, recounting memories I'd never had; vintage suitcases, retro jewelry I could repurpose, old photographs, prayer candles, crystals and stones, old cameras, unappreciated artwork- you name it. There are few things that give me greater joy than rummaging through the vast mementos of others, taking them in and giving them new life. And I have found some INCREDIBLE treasures over the years; however, no discovery has been so important and so fortunate as this: a book.

There is an old bookstore in downtown Deland called The Muse, and it has an incredible collection of antique and rare books. There are three rooms, each sectioned off by genre, and there is much pleasure in running one's hands over the spines of each book as one traipses through the aisles. On a particular day around the age of 18, I found myself in the bookshop with no premeditated intention to buy anything; just to explore. When shopping for a book, I have one method: I open to a random page, and if in one page I am captivated, I take it home. I'd sampled many, none pleasing enough beyond a page, until finally, I found it: Dreams by Olive Schreiner. This book was written in 1932 by a woman so smart, so compassionate, well-traveled, and decades beyond her time.

Olive Schreiner traveled all over the world, and wrote moralistic stories that hauntingly personified experiences like Love, the Ideal, Joy, Sadness, etc., and spoke of the human condition. To this day, I have never found writing to parallel that which I find in this book, so simple, yet impossibly intricate. It is one of the most important possessions I have, and I treasure it greatly.

All of that said, Olive Schreiner was an atheist. This never had any bearing on my love for the book, nor her ideas, as she was quite obviously a humanistic and compassionate person. Her ideas resonated with me immensely. At this time in my life, young and searching, I was aligning myself with Christian friends in hopes of finding the essence of the Christian faith, which I'd been raised to believe was correct and good. I wanted to have the kind of faith the believers possessed, and I dedicated myself to studying the bible, abstaining from certain aspects of the lifestyle that felt most natural to me in an effort to be more appropriately Christian. Suddenly, the things in my world that made me most happy, most whole, were forbidden: my love of the earth was pagan, my love and acceptance of gay and lesbian friends was sinful, my desire for sex was inappropriate, and my love for this book written by an atheist was tainting my faith. A Christian friend, with whom I have long since parted ways, advised me to get rid of the book because it would instill in me atheistic ideas and keep me from moving forward in my Christian faith.

As I look back, almost ten years, to that time in my life, I see that the real sin was allowing the fearfulness of others to influence my thinking. The truth is: all the things about me that Christianity encouraged me to change are the things I love most about myself, things that make me most proud of who I am. I know that there are many people who will not agree with my point of view, but I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. I am so grateful for the $9.50 I spent on this antique book that is more relevant to me every day, I am thankful for the friendships I pursued despite the cautioning of hateful, self-righteous people; I am confident that the calling in me to be compassionate, curious, questioning, and loving could never be destroyed, and I am beyond happy that this book, ten years later, still accompanies me in the dark hours of my life.

An excerpt:

"In a Far-Off World"

There is a world in one of the far-off stars, and things do not happen here as they happen there. In that world were a man and a woman; they had one work, and they walked together side-by-side on many days, and were friends- and that is the thing that happens now and then in this world also.

But there was something in that star-world that there is not here. There was a thick wood: where the trees grew closest, and the stems were interlocked, and the summer sun never shown, there stood a shrine. In the day all was quiet, but at night, when the stars shone or the moon glinted on the tree-tops, and all was quiet below, if one crept here quite alone and knelt on the steps of the stone altar, and uncovering one's breast, so wounded it that the blood fell down on the altar steps, then whatever he who knelt there wished for was granted him. And all this happens, as I said, because it is a far-off world, and things often happen there as they do not happen here.

Now, the man and woman walked together; and the woman wished well to the man. One night when the moon was shining so that the leaves of all the trees glinted, and the waves of the sea were silvery, the woman walked alone to the forest. It was dark there; the moonlight fell only in little flecks on the dead leaves under her feet, and the branches were knotted tight overhead. Farther in it got darker, not even a fleck of moonlight shone. Then she came to the shrine; she knelt down before it and prayed; there came no answer. Then she uncovered her breast; with a sharp two-edged stone that lay there she wounded it. The drops dripped slowly down on to the stone and a voice cried, "What do you seek?"

She answered, "There is a man; I hold him nearer than anything. I would give him the best of all blessings."

The voice said, "What is it?"

The girl said, "I know not, but that which is most good for him I wish him to have."

The voice said, "Your prayer is answered; he shall have it."

Then she stood up. She covered her breast and held the garment tight upon it with her hand, and ran out of the forest, and the dead leaves fluttered under her feet. Out in the moonlight the soft air was blowing, and the sand glittered on the beach. She ran along the smooth shore, then suddenly she stood still. Out across the water there was something moving. She shaded her eyes and looked. It was a boat; it was sliding swiftly over the moonlit water out to sea. One stood upright in it; the face the moonlight did not show, but the figure she knew. It was passing swiftly; it seemed as if no one propelled it; the moonlight's shimmer did not let her see clearly, and the boat was far from shore, but it seemed almost as if there was another figure sitting in the stern. Faster and faster it glided over the water away, away. She ran along the shore; she came no nearer it. The garment she had held closed fluttered open; she stretched out her arms and the moonlight shone on her long loose hair.

Then a voice beside her whispered, "What is it?"

She cried, "With my blood I bought the best of all gifts for him. I have come to bring it him! He is going from me!"

The voice whispered softly, "Your prayer was answered. It has been given him."

She cried, "What is it?"

The voice answered, "It is that he might leave you."

The girl stood still.

Far out at sea the boat was lost to site beyond the moonlight sheen.

The voice spoke softly, "Art thou contented?"

She said, "I am contented."

At her feet the waves broke in long ripples softly on the shore.