A dream came to me one night. In it, I was young and healthy and bounding up some stone steps to my room. I found my roommate reclining on her bed which was moved close to the fireplace. I felt such disgust for her. Always swooning, always cold. I had no compassion. Other people were nuisances to me.
A few weeks or months went by and in my dream this time I saw that I was old and very rich. I lived in Italy, and was a much-adored hostess to many priests. Delectable meals were served, wine flowed like a river of red. I did not even remember my roommate of many years ago. I did not care. For it was me I loved.
I had a niece and a nephew who had for the past months been coming to my house and consorting with the priests who loved me. Those priests had eyes for my comely niece, and admired my beautiful nephew. I could not get their undivided attention anymore. So I drank ever more wine poured for me by my nephew, knowing even as I did so that such desperation might mean my demise. For they were bone of my bone and blood of my blood. They also loved only themselves.
One night I crawled into my bed, perfumed and oiled as I always was, and there in the corner of the room I saw a little brown monk. I knew instantly that he was there for me. I fought the terrifying sensations of my dying body that were fast overcoming me, but in the end I had to let go.
When I woke up from this dream I felt that it was real, because I could still feel the silkiness of the oils and smell the citrussy perfumes on my body, I could still feel how it felt to die, and I knew in my heart that I had been concerned for no one but myself and that had brought about my death.
© 2012 Just Lynne - 4/6/12