It started out in a giant white building that was simple but elegant, and I was inside. I was walking up a long flight of stairs to a higher floor where I met Regina, our case worker with our international adoption agency. Regina and I then continued on together, talking as we walked. It seemed as though we were preparing for a meeting of some sort; the feel of the event was serious, but full of an excited anticipation.
We came to a large room that was set up like a lecture hall. I went in and sat down with a hundred others, and listened to someone who spoke about what to expect next. It was very vague, and the focus of that part of my dream wasn't so much the content of the meeting as it was an introduction to the rest of what happened. When the meeting ended, people got up and went on their way to various parts of the building. Regina and I walked toward the South Korea room.
As we meandered through the other people toward our destination, we passed various other rooms that belonged to different countries, and housed children ranging in age from infants to teenagers. I remember one little girl in a room we passed, who was clearly in control of her little world. She was about 6, had bobbed brown hair and brown eyes, and was feared by all of her peers. I don't know which room she was in but as we passed by, my heart went out to her and I wished she could feel love.
After passing the China room, which was completely full of small babies and their caretakers, we arrived at the Korea room. I looked at Regina, who nodded, and then opened the door and walked in. Inside were three children, quietly playing. My eyes went immediately to a little boy who was about 4 years old. He was with his father, a sweet old man with graying black hair and a tiny frame. The little boy looked up at me with beautiful brown Asian eyes, and he smiled.
I went to the boy and his father, and sat on the floor to watch them play. There was no talking, but somehow we were all connected. There was an intense love between the boy and the man, and they drew me into it. We spent many hours together, which may have been days or months - I don't know. And then, the man looked at me and told me something with his eyes. I knew then that he was dying, and so did the boy. He didn't have much time left to spend with his son, but he wasn't worried or anxious. He had been preparing for this day, and that was why I was there.
There was a ceremony to celebrate the life of the old man. He was dearly loved and respected by all who knew him, and I felt privileged to have been a part of his last days.
The little boy held the wisdom of the old man in his eyes now, along with a deep sadness. But he was content and he was happy in spite of the tragedy of his story. He looked up at me again with a smile that held a thousand sorrows, and he took my hand. And together we walked out of the giant white building, hand in hand.
The old man spoke then, for the first time in my dream, as if he were speaking directly to my heart from heaven. He thanked me for the gift I was giving this little boy, and in my heart I thanked him for the gift he had given me.