Unusual Dream

I’ve noticed the blog has been pretty vacant lately. It’s my first real day off in Atlanta and I decided I’d start by telling y’all about this dream I had about a week ago.

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There is this traveler. He wanted to travel through time to meet the leaders of the past but time isn’t simply forward or backwards; it moves left to right, up and down and spins about like a swing dancer. So he found himself in a well kept black Oldsmobile driving through the neighborhoods of Chicago. The year was the same. Two men accompanied him. He told them he was a reporter. One, a black man in his forties with sharp alert eyes, drove quietly. The other was a much older man whom he sat next to. That man, distinguished and charismatic, was an eighty-year-old Malcolm X. As they drove, Malcolm told the traveler of his work. The programs he put into place in the very communities they drove past. The traveler nodded and took notes. He asked of the other communities around the US he had touched, the last forty years of work and how he felt about the impact he has had throughout his life. Malcolm smiled wide, he took pride in all he had been able to accomplish, never forgetting to pause and acknowledge the breath of issues still yet to overcome. Malcolm mused, looking out at the building he saw the community he still dreams of creating. As the interview came to an end, the car pulled over and the three gentlemen got out. The traveler thanked the driver first, and then walked over to Malcolm. As the traveler’s hand touched the brilliant old man’s for the first time an incredible sight came over Malcolm. He saw fifty years in the traveler’s past, to his last speech and the world that grew from that day, to him much like roots growing darker as they move away from a plant. The traveler watched as this wave of impossible time flowed over Malcolm bringing the two to a greater understanding than their hour of conversation ever could. And as the strange light left Malcolm’s eyes he looked to the traveler and said, “that was really quite beautiful”. Gesturing his hand turning over and back again he simply said, “onto the page and off of the page and onto the page again”.

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I don’t usual dream that Malcolm X is alive.