I don't typically remember my dreams and when I do, they are rarely memorable.  But there are a few notable exceptions, and last month I had what some might consider a prophetic dream. 

I was in a crowded subway minding my own business and pretty quickly the crowd began to hurriedly leave. Finally, there was about five of us remaining and I could see why they left.  The angel of death was standing there looking slowly at the five of us.  And yes, he looked a little bit like a malnourished Darth Vader with a boring black wardrobe and a sickle.  He looked carefully at each one of the other four frightened people and told them to leave.  And then he looked at me and said: "January".

And then I woke up.

Once began thinking about the dream, I wanted to go back as I had so many questions, like: "what about January, are you telling me that will be the first snowstorm, Eagles will be in the Super Bowl again, I will be taking a vacation to a warm climate so maybe I should buy my plane tickets now?"

Just kidding, I knew what he meant.  January is when I will face my death.  So the big question would be which January?  And what if it is this coming January?

although I sometimes take dreams literally, usually they are metaphorical and often a manifestation of one's unconscious for an unexperienced mood state.  But as I thought about the dream, it didn't feel like it was symptomatic of depression or anxiety like many are.  

So I decided to spend the next several days assuming that this January will be my last, and so will this spring and next summer.  As will encounters with friends I see rarely. Even those I love dearly, I began to see them as though I wouldn't have much more time with them.

And you probably know by now what happened. This spring has been one of the most precious and vibrant I've ever encountered.  My love for people in my life has grown in depth.  And while everything I love feels more fragile, it feels more precious at the same time.  Just like life itself.

Like I said, that dream was a month ago and that vibrant awareness of my fragility comes and goes.  But when I do experience it, I feel more alive and grateful.

So was that dream about me or was it an archetypical dream that is really about all of us?

Now that I experience the gifts of that dream, I sometimes think maybe I should send that guy a thank you note.  But he was pretty weird and might take it the wrong way.  And that's the last person I would ever want to piss off