This is the epic battle part

I’ve been having vivid nightmares lately, and they have a theme: I’m out somewhere, and suddenly someone is threatening me. Last week, I was pushing a baby carriage in a place that wasn’t familiar. It was nighttime, and I was walking next to a hotel. A man passed me and I knew he intended to hurt me, the way you know things in a dream.

I picked up my pace and glanced up at the hotel to see if anyone was on any of the balconies, but they were empty. I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, the man had paused. When we made eye contact he started running toward me, eyes wild. I screamed. I screamed so loudly I woke my dog.

Last night I had a similar dream. I was in some kind of village, but everyone was dressed like it was Colonial times. It’s my subconscious, what can I tell you? There was a furious woman chasing me. I ducked into a store. There were rows of bookshelves almost to the ceiling, there was a huge, empty birdcage for sale in a corner, there were umbrellas in a stand — more likely parasols if I was dreaming realistically — or so Google tells me.

I ducked behind one of the huge shelves, and peeked around the corner in time to see the woman come bounding through the doors. She knew exactly where I was.

I understood she intended to kill me, I didn’t know why. I looked down and realized I had a pole in my hands, so held it up and yelled at her to stay away from me! Woke the dog, again.

You don’t have to be an oneirologist to catch the drift. I’m feeling vulnerable, like there are threats coming from every side. The baby carriage represents, no doubt, some feeling I have that I can’t keep my kids safe. No one being on the balconies is the disappointment I feel in people who are going about their lives as though everything is normal. Finding myself in Colonial America is (almost) hilarious. I have to give my subconscious an A+ for use of metaphor. Maybe tonight I’ll dream of Joan of Arc.

On the plus side, the moment I open my mouth to yell, I yell. This is new. For most of my adult life, if I have a nightmare and want to scream, no sound comes out. This is a terrible feeling, whether you’re awake or asleep. The feeling of being in imminent danger and wanting to call for help, only to find you cannot make a sound? I take it as a positive change that now when I go to scream in my dream, I scream in real life — it took me years but I have finally found my voice. Perhaps not a positive development for the dog, but I like to think I make it up to him in a million other ways.

There are good reasons to have some hope. Liam Conejo Ramos and his father are home. I take this as the most tangible and joy-affirming evidence that our loud, unwavering refusal to accept the inhumanity and lawlessness of this administration — works. It might not work as quickly as we’d like, but it works — and so does our judicial system, some of the time.

Democratic U.S. Representative from Texas Joaquin Castro has been working tirelessly on their release. He went to Dilley Detention Center to meet with Liam and his dad Adrian while they were detained. He traveled with them from Texas back to Minnesota. Their attorney, Mark Prokosch, is continuing to represent them. There is a gofundme for Liam and his family if you are able to contribute any amount, it’s going to be a long road.

There are judges like the Honorable U.S. District Judge Fred Biery. In his Opinion and Order granting a Writ of Release to Liam and his father, he did not hold back. I encourage you to read his Opinion in full, and I propose we call him Fiery Biery from this day forward.

Yes, “Biery” is pronounce “beer” “ee” and no, I don’t care. Here is just a taste:

“Observing human behavior confirms that for some among us the perfidious lust for unbridled power, and the imposition of cruelty in its quest, know no bounds and are bereft of human decency. And the rule of law be damned.”

We shall see what happens with the DHS bill. The Epstein files are horrific. There’s too much coming at us every day, and no one can keep up, which is the point. It seems 37% of our population is still supporting this administration for reasons that boggle the mind. They seem to feel fine if the Constitution guarantees their rights, but no one else’s — certainly not liberals, immigrants, Black or brown people, or anyone in the LGBTQ community — and also most women, generally. Maybe they’d make an exception for a few people they know, but probably not.

Here is a funny thing about strangers. When we walk out the door in the morning, we’re all strangers to most of the people we encounter. We don’t know a thing about them — what they’ve been through, what they’re going through right now, what keeps them up at night. If you crossed paths with either of my children today, it’s likely you would not know they are mine — but they mean everything to me, and I hope with my entire heart that you would treat them the way I would treat your most precious people if we met somewhere, somehow.

We all need a kind stranger sometimes. How this is confusing to anyone is beyond me. The smug confidence that allows a person to “other” someone else is one of the most painful forms of ignorance I’ve seen in my lifetime. These are the people who believe in God and call themselves Christian, too. If that’s your worldview, aren’t these God’s children you’re “othering”? I don’t know, but I would think God is going to have some words for you at the Pearly Gates before you head elsewhere. You might want to slow down with the laughing emojis — just a thought.

There’s no such thing as other people’s children. We all belong to each other, and to the world.

Sending you a lot of love, friends. Keep at it. Love always wins in the end.

Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe