In my dreams, a woman descends from the skies into the remote island village of my life. No idea at all how she looks or sounds. I’m smart enough to only see her omnivorous brain and completely loving soul shining from her eyes. Oh, to make such dreams more than religion. I know an effigy of an airplane, rudimentary and shaped from branches and vines, is inappropriate in this case. And certainly not a tasteless twig and twine person. A gigantic burning heart, made of all the children’s clay in town soaked in more than a dash of charcoal fluid, seems ambivalent, open to interpretation and argument. Although it’s certainly a dramatic signal. I’ll continue to think and sleep on this, with faith-bound hopes for finding how to make this dream of untold riches reality.