The other night I had a dream that I was in my own room, but it was bit and all in shades of white and eggshell. I understood it was a room of healing and it was in Imildris (also known as Rivendale in the Lord of the Rings). The room was beautiful and it was wholly mine. I had a spirit animal with me, but no one else. There was a lot of natural light and that gave me comfort. I love rooms with a lot of natural light.
In the dream, I understood that my mother and father and others from my family were coming to visit. I was getting ready for that when I woke up from my dream.
Because Sam and I related so much to the hobbit and LOTR, I took the meaning of the room of healing to be a room where I was healing from losing Sam, like Frodo’s healing in the same place, only the room was literally and wholly mine. I didn’t have to leave like Frodo did. Others were coming to me. That could mean that, like the faye, I belong with the elves–the fair folk–and that’s where I’d expect my hobbit to come looking for me.
I was alone, except my spirit animal, which I assume would be a cat. But I was expecting family. I suppose a widow, even remarried, might often feel alone in her own world. I suppose the key then is to invite the men in to keep me company until the hobbit arrives.
And then we will have counsel. That will be glorious. I can’t wait for that moment. It’s one of the first positive thoughts I’ve had about dying since Sam passed.
I know this may sound strange, and I hope my family remembers this and reads this when I have passed, but I will be SO happy when I die. I guess the challenge is to try and be happy until then. How to get there is the hard part. I don’t know where the road map is for that journey. I don’t think there is one. You have to make it up as you go along.
No one knows how to get to your personal paradise. Not even you.
I don’t know why I’m releasing these on Wednesdays, that’s just how it worked out.