A Dream Within A Dream

I did not sleep well last night. I could not stop my mind from going over and over a conversation I had with my Granddaughter Cassie about an end-of-the-year paper she's preparing for her English class. Part of the paper is based upon Edgar Allen Poe's poem:

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

What got to me was the despair: O God! can I not save one grain of golden sand from the pitiless wave? That image brought back the pain and suffering of last summer's hurricane Ike here along the Texas Gulf Coast. Above is a photograph I took when walking along that surf-tormented shore many months after the storm had passed.

As I read Poe's poem I see myself as that battered, broken and nearly collapsed beach house. And I ask the same questions as did Poe: Is all that we see or seem but a dream, yes even a dream within a dream? What can be done to stop my days from slipping through my fingers like grains of golden sand?

I stand upon the shore of that vast ocean of eternity, realizing that nothing, nothing at all that I do can rescue me. I who am nearly twice the age Poe was when he died, must also face the inevitable.

That's why I did not sleep well last night. Ah, but that's not the end of the story. I have heard another voice, speaking from beyond the darkness of death. It is the voice of the angel standing before the empty tomb. "You seek Jesus of Nazareth. He is not here. Behold the place where they laid him." Yes, He is risen and it is not a dream. NOT A DREAM!

So I awake today and the songs of the birds continue. The soft morning breeze whispers in my ear. The flowers blooming on the deck outside my study smile at me. Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? Oh no! Never again. My Jesus lives and I too shall live with Him--forever!