It’s late afternoon, the wind is soothingly warm. Look down..there is grass underfoot. Look up…there is a clearing and sand…the peninsula of a small island. Dense forest not too far away. Many people have gathered. A festive feel permeates the atmosphere. What are we celebrating ? This is not home…not familiar…a holiday destination perhaps ?

The woman is Chinese, or at least of Asian appearance. But Chinese I think. Glossy black hair cut in a neat bob, fine boned and somewhat fragile. She cradles an infant no more than four months of age, looking down at her precious child…wait…those are my arms…this is my child I hold. This woman is me ! Another child, a girl maybe five years of age stands alongside me; and a man, slight in stature and quite young also …he is my husband.

Sudden commotion. A deafening blast in the distance. A huge fireball emblazons the sky line in varying hues of red and orange. The sandy beach that extends along the western side of the island is quickly filled with people running towards us. I see bloodied faces, clothing torn to shreds and blackened by soot. The terror in their eyes is horrific. Panic engulfs me. “Quick !” they scream, “To the boats, to the boats”.

Children in tow, we follow the crowd towards a pier on the opposite side of the island. There is a scramble to find a spot on the boats. I am sitting with my children, their grandparents sit alongside us. I extend my hand out towards my husband who still stands on the shore. “Come” I say, there is room now”. He shakes his head. A stern frown furrows his brow. I am confused. What’s happening ? What is the problem ?

In that moment, as the observer / participant of this dream, I understand that initially there was no room for him on the boat and the grandparents and I had consented to leave the island without him. Leaving him behind to an unknown fate. His refusal to then join us was based on his hurt and pride that we were prepared to go without him.