Tuesday, March 25, 2008


I dreamed last night. Something not unusual for me--But what I dreamed was disturbing.

I dreamed I was in another country. I'm not sure what I was there for, but a little girl about 6 or 7 came up to me and smiled at me. I asked her what her name was in a different language I didn't know I could speak. She responded Moshi. Swahili for Smoke. I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and suddenly, the light the shined in her eyes was gone. She pointed to he bloated stomach. Moshi was starving and knew she would never grow up. Suddenly, other children appeared and one by one shouted out there names. Each of these children were from different countries than Moshi, but all had a bloated belly. After all the names were spoken, they suddenly grew thinner by the minute, until nothing was left except their bones. All stacked in a pile with no identity. I tried to help the, but there were invisible barriers that I couldn't get past, I watched in horror as they died. Then there mothers one by one appeared and said to me in their native language: "Couldn't you have helped them?"

I awoke from my terrible dream, but I couldn't forget the graphic detail of it. Does it mean I'm supposed to do something in my life where I can help these children?

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