Nightmare and Dream
October 1998. The 7th of October, to be precise. A long telephone call with E from Cape Town, who had enjoyed the cruise and a lot of time with one of the crew. She had just found out he was married, and now, in a state of shock and naive disbelief, was venting about this amorality and her disappointment.
I turned to Ronald after the call, a married man. Now suddenly and acutely aware of something. I felt a cold feeling coming over me as the realisation slowly dawned. Banja Luka. He had been there for almost two years before I joined him, apart from two visits to Cape Town while I had my contract at UCT. Jadranka was the landlady – blonde, attractive, early forties, single mother. Oh yes. Oh, Ronald? I finally voiced the question.
“Jadranka…?” “Did you..?” “Were you…?” “Oh…, Ronald.” And he made no attempt to deny anything. It was just that I had never posed the question. But now I had. And he had answered. And that was why he had organised to be posted from Banja Luka to Sarajevo when I arrived in Bosnia. But during my Turkish cruise, he once again visited Banja Luka, driving our little car the 6 hours or so. Oh dear. And here we were on the 7th of October, with the prospect of flying to Geneva in the next few days to collect the keys for our new apartment in Thonon-les-Bains, overlooking Lac Léman – sitting with this dark cloud between us.
It was more than a cloud. My foundation had slipped out from under me. I felt stunned, ungrounded. Incredible. And there we sat, this reality slowly dawning on both of us. Big times ahead.
I slept in the lounge on the unbelievably uncomfortable couch. Well, I didn’t actually sleep. I lay there, weeping quietly most of the night. But, at some point, I must have drifted off because I had a dream… an amazing dream, which changed everything. From then onwards – and forever.
I received a beautiful gift in this dream; a life-transforming gift from my soul.
***
I am on some kind of cart – a wooden platform. I don’t think it has sides, and I feel I have my feet dangling over the edge. I am at the front, and we seem quite high off the ground. It’s as if we are hovering, and I see the grasses moving beneath us as we pass over the ground. The grass is long, waving, golden. I don’t know what is propelling this ‘cart’ or craft, but I am not alone on it. We are a group. From afar, it might look like a group of field workers returning from a day’s work in the early setting sun. There is a quality in the light which is astonishing.
I am sitting at the front and can feel the cool air on my face as we move fairly quickly. There is a feeling of exhilaration, and we are moving slightly upwards. The grasses cover the gently rising terrain. It’s a golden meadow.
But the most exquisite sensation is the sound! The sound all around me and within me. It’s hard to describe, but ‘angelic choir’ gives a tiny inkling. It’s swirling all around, and I realise that we are also contributing to it! I find myself singing too; my voice and my heart space seem enormous, expanding and resonating profoundly, contributing to the fullness of this exquisite sound. Oh my word. The joy! I am part of this group of presences. There is no particular person I recognise. In fact, I am not sure we are actually individuals as such, except that I am aware of my physical body, as it is the instrument for this magnificent sound. And I have never felt such joy…
And then suddenly, I turn to look back at where we have come from. Something prompts me to do so, and the scene… I will never ever forget the scene. Oh, Ronald.
Some way back in the meadow we have passed through and over, almost waist-high in the waving golden grasses, you are making your way up and trying to catch up with this cart… and its music. I can see the expression on your face, and this image wrenches my heart, pulls me from the joyous feeling I was part of. For a moment I am torn, wanting to reach out to you and help you onto this vehicle. My hands are outstretched, and your arms reach out towards me. Your face reflects your struggle, and it is almost desperate. The distance between us is slowly growing…
It’s such a sense of loss… and longing. I know you won’t be on that cart with me, and yet I have to remain on this journey. I turn my gaze from behind me when your figure is smaller and smaller, a little moving blob in a golden landscape. Oh, Ronald.
***
The next morning, when we greeted each other, red-eyed and gentle, both aware of the heart-wrenching time we were living, I told him of my dream.
He said quietly, “I do want to be on that cart” – and then I felt for the second time in less than a year a rush of grace flooding through me. This is what I now understand and recognise as Love, in the highest sense, with very little to do with our human romantic notion of love for each other. This power was LOVE as forgiveness, and I was being gifted by this power of forgiveness. I was engulfed in a warm glowing wave of compassion, understanding and love. I experienced it as Love for me, for myself, transmitted from some higher aspect of myself or soul, ensuring that I was not going to choose the path of victim and get lost in a sense of betrayal. Clearly, at one level, this was about betrayal. But, at another higher level, this experience was about building spiritual stamina and soul growth and therefore needed to be embraced.
One week later, we returned to Switzerland, in a daze, as we walked in the fog and early autumn mists around Geneva, and then went to Thonon, where we collected the keys to our unique and beautiful apartment overlooking the lake from the French side. A paradox not lost on me in living through these painful days was the gift we had in fact been given. We had not been allowed to go into this beautiful space with any deception or denial remaining between us. Things, though painful, needed to be honest, authentic, and clear.
What was also clear to both of us was that the financial resources which I had found to complement Ronald’s for the purchase needed to be reflected in joint ownership. Ronald had corrected this prior to our arrival from Bosnia, and the title deeds were now in both our names.
So, Life had signalled change. We had to change to accommodate the healing necessary after such a rupture. We needed time apart. So, in early 1999 I went to Thonon to settle in and reconnect with my soul, looking out over the lake’s healing waters. And, as the war in Kosovo was getting underway, Ronald drove from Sarajevo to Pristina in our little car, the Renault 4 modèle de base, and settled into the hardships associated with the craziness of ‘war’.