Up for the sunrise

This morning, I'm up for the sunrise. The water is normally very calm when the sun comes up, but the water levels are so high this year with the amount of rain there's been, that the water is mildly rough. There's a mix of cloud and sky, so the approach of dawn has been spectacular, with coloured whimsical clouds intercepting the yellow sky. On the water, the sky breaks on the waves into prismed light, so I can see it as though I have the many eyes of a spider.

Yesterday's rain was captured by what is officially Ottawa's best blog (and one of my favourite photoblogs as well.)

I woke up early this morning after a strange dream. Two dreams actually - in the first, I had come into a dream about a woman and man who (in the dream) I knew thinking I was a pilot - instead of being flown to work, I would fly to work. She was a stewardess, and he was a politician of some sort. Her last husband had killed himself by walking out on the wing of a plane, and torn between his memory and her new politician friend, she was trying to decide whether to walk on the wing of her plane and follow her deceased husband out of the world in the same way, or commit to her new politician friend, who was waiting in the airport lined up to go through customs to board her plane for a flight (I think I was the pilot, but I didn't show up in the story of the dream, other than to browse through an empty section of the airport with them.) At the end of the dream, she came running down the roped off area with the lineup and threw herself into her politician lover's arms. She had made her choice.

In my next dream, I was standing in a long lineup at what appeared to be a reconciliation service at my parish. At the head of the line, in a chair receiving the confessions, was someone who looked to be just a regular parishioner in ordinary clothes. When I got to the front of the line, I said to him, "You don't understand, I need a real confession."

He said, "Go ahead!"

I replied, "I need a Priest; I've sinned mortally, and I need this to be sacramental!"

He threw up his hands for a minute, and then pointed to another line that crossed the middle pews. "Go there," He said simply.

I lined up in that other line, and to my relief, our parish pastor was at the other end of it. But as I formulated how I was going to word my confession, I realized that I did not have any idea what I was going to confess for. Then it occured to me that I needed to confess for my actions in my dream about the stewardess and the politician. Not that I could think of anything I'd actually done; I just had the strong impetus to confess it.

Perhaps that is what I am doing now.