A while back, when I was around five or six… I had a dream. It was like any other dream I suppose, except that in the end, I murdered one of my siblings. I haven’t seen any data to suggest that such dreams are normal, but I haven’t actively sought out that data either. After all, what’s in a dream? A thought at any other time might smell as sweet.
As I mentioned before, I was quite young and this dream scared me, but who could I tell? I didn’t want the one I murdered to fear me. For that matter I didn’t want my parents or siblings to fear that I would push them into a volcano too.
Let me just mention that not all of my early fears were rational. Did I mention that I used to be afraid of the moon?
So, after mulling over the dilemma for most of the day, I decided to sleep on it. I regretted it in the middle of the night when I pushed my brother into a volcano again.
I really don’t know how Cain dealt with the guilt of murdering his brother, but It kept me up for a good portion of the night, and I had to forgive my older brother for whatever it is that he had done to me a few days ago as soon as we were both conscious.
Only in hindsight did I learn these two lessons.
- Don’t go hiking on the rim of a volcano with a brother you are mad at.
- Don’t let the sun go down on your wrath.