I dreamed that a man was reading a long poem just out of my line of sight. A man with a nice, warm voice. He was reading slowly with a deep complicated emotional reverence. He read carefully three times as if he were memorizing or maybe preparing for a presentation. As he read it the third time, I following along silently, knowing all the words. When I woke up all I could remember was:
she adjusts me
hands that heal
hands of faith
I wrote the words down during breakfast. The dream has been haunting me all day. I feel a need to report it. So, here it is.