The River Crossing Dream

I’ve had a handful of peculiar dreams. I’ve shared them with my children, my husband and a few close friends over the years. It has occurred to me that I may want to share them with my grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so I’ll chronicle them here. I invite the reader to assign meaning to the dream(s)…or not. As you wish. I dreamed I was standing on the bank of a shallow river with my children. We desperately needed to cross the river and get to the other side, and even though the water was ankle deep when we set out, it was quickly rising past my knees and to my waist. I was terrified my children would soon drown in what was becoming rising flood waters of the river, and I began to search the area for possible solutions. I found two large flat stones on the floor of the river and held them up, one in each hand. Just as the water was rising over my head, I told my son, Philip, to get his brothers and sisters across the river using the upheld steppingstones to cross. I took one last deep breath and held a stone in each hand, high over my head as the water rushed, completely covering me and my outstretched arms. I could feel the weight of the children as they each stepped on the stones, crossing over the river to the safety of the bank on the other side. I was aware of and could feel Philip stepping back and forth, bringing the younger children. Somehow, I became aware that all of my children had made it across the river and were safely together on the far bank. In the same moment I felt the relief that my children were safe, knowing that Philip could lead them on from where they were, I felt what seemed to be a wave of floodwater that surges when a dam is broken. As I was being swept away, I knew I was drowning. I accepted the reality of my death. I wasn’t afraid, but felt only grateful because my children were safe. I dropped the stones. I heard each one thud, as it landed on the floor of the river. I awakened from my dream in that moment.