[what are you afraid of?]

[what are you afraid of?]

“What are you afraid of?”

Orthodox priest from my dream

Just before the House M.D. theme music snatched me from the depths of my dream, I dreamed of assisting a girl who planned to commit a suicide. For some reason she wanted to jump from the steeple of St. Sophia’s bell tower. We entered the Church together. I remember crossing myself as I stepped over the threshold and thought “Hmm, I never crossed myself before my friend’s wedding that took place at an Orthodox Church.”

As we proceeded through the narthex to the stairs on the left, a monk directed us toward a priest who sat on the very stairs we intended to use to go up. The priest was young. When he saw us, he smiled and looked at the girl who was with me contemplatively.

“What are you afraid of?”

The familiar yet unwelcome at that moment Massive Attack’s Teardrop started to play in the background and I opened my eyes. Kiylov, Church camp. Time to get up for breakfast.

I closed my eyes in vain hopes to go back to the dream and hear the girl’s answer to the priest’s question, but the trick that works at home did not work this time. I sighed sadly, opened my eyes once again, and got up.

The dream, although gone in “physical” sense, was still replaying in my mind’s eye. What are you afraid of?

That priest knew that we weren’t headed to the stairs for a good reason. He knew, somehow, that underlying all the pretended courage, there was still some fear. If only I could put my finger on it.

A poem that “came” to me the other day that kind of fits the mood:

I’m not afraid of death,
I am afraid of dying,
But when my time will come,
I’ll see the silver lining.

What are YOU afraid of?

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