Sometime later I was having the same dream sequence, but this time I noticed the same woman waiting in line a few people down the line. When she came to the front of the line she handed me a brush and mirror. She told me it had been her grandmother’s and she wanted me to have it because her son was finally healthy again. I told her I was happy for her and her son and turned to put the vanity set to the right of me on the stack of other gifts others had given me for similar results.
There were many stories throughout the years, fathers asking for advice on who their daughters should be promised to; mothers challenged by their children and the war taking their sons from their lives. As I grew up in real life, I also grew in unison in my dream sequence.
Then about the time I was 15, the dream was about a woman whose daughter was broken hearted because her husband had been lost in the war. She hadn’t gotten out of bed and cried all day long. The mother was beside herself.
Again I closed my eyes and when I opened them I asked the mother to have her daughter tell stories to the children in the village and her heart would once again find joy. When she returned sometime later, she told me her daughter was laughing again and had returned to her previous good natured self with few moments when she felt sorrow. She then gave me a beautiful silver tea pot. I placed in on the stack of offerings which was now so high I could barely reach the top. I had grown into the size of the chair.