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Speaking softly and with great love, the angel said, “If you save him, you too shall live.” Then she faded back into the silver-gray mist. The boy understood that some special dreams can express divine intent, but he was no big believer in literal angels. Yet each time this dream flowed into his sleeping mind, the boy remembered it vividly, and he quietly meditated on its details while seated on his favorite wooden pew in the back of the old chapel at St. Was the dream a vision calling him out on a journey to the unknown west? Was he invited by the cosmos to head off on a mysterious pilgrimage to a sacred place he knew not where?” Paul’s School in New Hampshire, where he was a young student both whimsical and spiritual. “But the boy never strained to find an answer because he assumed one would flow toward him at the right time if there was one and there was no rushing it. He did wonder if the dream was just a creative delusion his brain tissue had concocted in order to make life more meaningful because beneath any happy human veneer emptiness is always a threat, and we are all desperate meaning-making creatures. “The boy had a fabulous sacred studies teacher, Rev.īut on the other hand, maybe the dream flowed from the infinite Mind of which all our minds are some small part, and, if so, it was a gift and calling.” Rod Welles, an Episcopal priest who loved the Buddhism of Alan Watts, and the boy told him about the dream over a formal Sunday dinner in the school’s large North Upper dining hall.

North Upper was as elegantly constructed as the great dining hall in a Harry Potter novel, with sweeping varnished wooden beams pointing skywards, and oak tables and chairs in which sat five hundred young boys-a dozen boys per table-all suited up and just returned from mandatory Sunday chapel.

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