Carl Jung said: “The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.” It follows that Patricia’s soul and mine, united in marriage and as soulmates, have deep memories of times of our joy together before either of us were born and far into eternity. We found each other within each other. We loved with heart and soul; for us, there is no such thing as separation. LOVE is stronger than DEATH. We now live our life in our dreams and memories. Our love (agape), is the unconditionality of true acceptance of God and us, the devotion associated with seeking truth in life, and the beauty of human nature, while transcending time, countries, religions and languages.

I had a dream last night that was so real it was like living a Jane Austin movie.  Pat and I were dressed like 19^th century gentry.  Pat was gorgeous – full length yellow dress with high waist, her hair done in a French twist. We owned a new winery in wine country but were new to wine making; our first crop was ready for bottling. There was not enough wine from the oak barrels to fill the bottles, but the cooper told us not to worry, blessed our endeavour and to just keep filling the bottles. There was more than enough. The bottles ran out before the barrels. The grounds were lovely, and we were alone together (Pat’s hermit couple) there. We thought about setting up a winery restaurant. When that first batch was ready we took it into town to enter the wine tasting. It was superb, and we won first prize. Won enough for the winery restaurant. Can’t help but think the dream was fulfilling both our dreams – 19^th century winery estate, hermit couple and a restaurant. Memory of things past or of things to come?  “Do you have memory of the day we met, when the halo of your spirit surrounded us, and the angels of love floated about, singing the praise of the soul’s deed?” — Khalil Gibran