Arriving at Daniel's hotel room, I knocked on the door. He immediately opened the door and there I was speechless, for he had in his hands this gigantic piece of amber. Behind him, the curtains were open and a strong shaft of light was hitting the amber just right too, for it was glowing. Silently I noticed that in the middle of the honey colored, glimmering chunk of amber was a million year old red bug.
What could this mean, I wondered? (Even in my dream it was all so unexpected).
He said that he wanted to get his coat and as he put it on, I noticed that his briefcase was also full of amber. And like happens in dreams, the golden honey color just infused the entire room with color and warm fragrance.
"But I thought you were here to talk about China?"
"No," I am here to talk about my new theory."
I waited for him to tell me what (knowing it must have something to do with that piece of amber in his hands).
"The Three Kings from the East, the Magi, they didn't bring frankiscence, myrrh and gold. What they brought with them on their long trek to the King was frankiscence, myrrh and amber."
My dream was so unforgettable in its sensuality-- the warmth of the color of amber. Even in our drams, our senses being the old fashioned way we know the world, they embed us in time and place. Creating meaning, they sustain our souls.
Proust, I am sure was right when he concluded that an hour is not merely an hour but rather is "a vase filled with perfumes, sounds, places and climates! . . . So we hold within us a treasure of impressions, clustered in small knots, each with a flavor of its own, formed from our own experiences, that become certain moments of our past."