I dreamed I was in an underground river
flowing through the religions of the world
watching them develop and unfold.
First was the garden of the world.
I floated/swam through the most gracious of waters
warm and sultry—bringing life to everything the river touched.
Then came structures for religious thought.
I saw Abraham and Sarah, in a tent in the desert. Arguing and making rough love.
I saw Jacob dreaming his dream of angels and a spiral staircase to heaven.
Frescos of scenes I’d never read about and couldn’t recall when I awoke, slid by.
I saw the Buddha teaching, laughing with disciples.
I experienced Krishna dancing, great dances to At-Man.
I saw Jesus in a crowd, talking calmly and with great passion.
Muhammed was busy teaching that Allah is One.
He was already misunderstood as the words were spoken.
And then there were Sufis dancing passionate DNA spirals, love poems to the One.
I traveled through wars about who rightfully owned the river.
It just kept flowing.
Sometimes it was cold and dark.
Other times golden and warm.
There were aqueducts, underground bridges, arches of ancient stone.
When it was my time to get out
The river deposited me gently on a sunny, sandy beach.
I breathed and laid still and watched the gulls swooping and talking trash.
From this dream, my wings of understanding have grown stronger.