Last night I dreamt that Stephanie and I were leaving the Lights of Christmas at Warm Beach Camp. We drove for a while and had to use flashlights to shine down on the bumpy road looking for muddy potholes (this is probably because last night we were walking and using flashlights to avoid the muddy potholes). We made it to our destination and Haydn (a friend who isn’t on the trip) was there with us. We were sitting on couches under two skylights. We were just talking when we heard fireworks. Looking through the skylights we couldn’t see any fireworks. Then I woke up and realized that the noise wasn’t fireworks at all. It was an automatic gun firing very close to campus. Hearing gunfire in the night is a common occurrence (once a week or so) but tonight it was close. After a little while of silence the firing started again but a little farther away this time. As I lay there in the silence I remembered what my students asked in class just a few hours before, “explain the word safety, I don’t understand it.” For a war ravaged country whose people know at least 4 languages the word safety in English doesn’t come up often enough to know it’s meaning, I guess. It was difficult for me to explain the concept of safety having peace and comfort, knowing that everything is ok. I couldn’t figure it out. Was my explanation not good enough? Now I know, I forgot how they live, I forgot to explain the word in a cultural context.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of frogs. I guess they felt it was safe and could begin their noisy chorus again. Then after a while the dogs began to bark, I then heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel road below my window. The music again began to blast through the speakers, just because it’s 3 am doesn’t mean that the party has to stop. With the normal lullaby of music blasting, I fell back to sleep.
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