Cædmon Comma

ascent

Cædmon,

The other night I had a dream.

On a flight to somewhere, we crashed upon some high and distant mountain. You survived and I survived, but your mother was gone. Cold atop the mountain, you and I started our descent and left all that grief and wreckage behind. I wrapped you in every last stitch of clothing I could find, and started stumbling and trudging down the mountain, holding you in my arms.

It seemed with every step, the wind blew colder, and the path grew steeper until I slipped and slid on my back down a long, treacherous slope. The white world flew past us at break neck speed and I tried to put my feet out to slow us down, but nothing would. So, with tired arms I held you closer and tighter and that hoped we'd be okay. We finally landed, with a soft thud, in an embankment of snow.

You started crying. I talked to you; I held you against me as I walked once again. You still cried. So, I took off my own coat and faced the bitter breeze to make you warmer. Still you cried.

"I'm trying, buddy," I whispered, "I'm doing all I can."

I walked and I walked and eventually your crying ceased. I could see nothing but white, but still I walked on. With every step I trudged, I could feel less of my body, until, with a certain numbness I blindly stumbled toward elevations below. And with every shiver I felt from you, I stopped and asked your forgiveness. I prayed your cries would return.

With an urgency, I walked and I walked and I walked as the snow fell all around…

And, then, when I could walk no more, I looked up and saw the warm places of the world all around and people were there to help.

Overjoyed, I removed layer after layer from my arms, and found you bundled beneath. Your body was cold – so cold. You weren't breathing; you weren't moving. So, I turned away from the warm places and the people, and holding your soft still form, I ascended the mountain. We walked back into the cold.

My son, this was, perhaps, as awful a dream as I could ever have. But, when the awakening finally came, I wondered at the joy of experiencing something… together.

Dad