Pink Lemonade and Poets
May 31, 2014

Wednesday, May 28, I woke at 2am, unable to sleep. I got up and went to the internetz and found other people unable to sleep. Seeing this and that, commenting here and there, distracted me for a while. But then a sense of dis-ease overcame me and grew. Feeling panicky and nearly overwhelmed, I sloughed off to bed and quivered.

What was wrong? As an empathic person, the first question I have to ask myself is "Am I picking up on something happening in the world, near or far? Or is it me?" Psychic impressions are often rather limited for action choice, because so often it's only in the aftermath do I know what it is I am receiving. The only relaxation technique is one that's effective whatever the cause of one's distress, whether stresses in one's own life or something'out there'. Deep breathing while relaxing the muscles behind my eyes allowed me to gradually drift off to sleep.

I 'woke' at an unfamiliar gathering. I remember the rows of gray folding chairs, the ivory walls, the room somewhat similar to the 'clubhouse' that is the nexus of our neighborhood gatherings. But I'd not been there before. I found myself sitting next to a gossipy, chatty woman. I didn't want to reveal that I'd never been to one of these gatherings before. Was it my usual shyness? Perhaps. Meanwhile, I tried to observe and respond so that I 'fit in' better.

Awkward responses to the chatty lady were relieved by a call for lemonade. My thirst was too! So vivid, that clear glass classically shaped pitcher of pink lemonade! So vivid, my cup, held up for filling!

My cup full, I went back and sat down. I chose a seat in a row behind the chatty lady. As I wondered about the program we would be experiencing, having seen no schedule, I looked about to see if there was anyone I recognized. They all looked like such nice people, did I really 'fit' here?

A tall, stately black woman entered, and my jaw dropped a little. She looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. So often, I will remember at least some detail about a person, if rarely their name. Would she be the guest speaker? She had such an air about her, she exuded confidence won by a life of varied experiences.

The next I knew, I was plunged into semi-darkness, a soft semi-darkness. Slowly I rose from bed and went again to the internetz.

Startling news awaited me. Maya Angelou, honored poet and essayist, dies at 86 read the headlines. Having seen the many photos of Maya, I at least recognized the woman in my dreams. She would not speak at my gathering, but she has left an enduring record of her many words of wisdom. The official word about the time of her death, "8:00 a.m. EST" further confirms this, as this would have been 5am Arizona time, when I was dreaming.

I can only think she wanted to leave a message to fellow would be poets. One of her last Facebook posts, on May 23rd was:

"Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God."

Dear wise woman, all blessings to your Ka, and yes, we will be listening!

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