'Twas a Dream

"As if in a dream and maybe it was, I watched them from afar.  They were down below and I seemed to be somehow suspended between up and down, here and there, and here and not yet there.  They were twelve as I determined after they settled down around the table which was spread with what seemed to be rather meager fare, some bread, a piece of lamb, and cups half filled with purple wine.  Listening to their conversation I began to understand that this was no ordinary group of twelve men, but twelve very holy men.  

There was one who seemed to be talking more than the others and what he talked about mostly was what he did one night in an open courtyard.  "Traitor," he called himself.  And I heard another down a seat or two saying how sorry he had doubted what all the others knew to be true.  A big burly guy who was listening only laughed and with wine dripping from his beard spoke of a prejudice toward the small town people.  It was a room filled with loud voices, the laughter of men, and the strong smell of fermented drink.  With an ear now tuned to what was unfolding in the recesses of my mind and being seen by the eye of my spirit, I knew that this group was no ordinary gathering of men, but a holy band of twelve about whom I had read in the holy book since I had  learned to read.  Sensing that this vision was beginning to fade with the morning light, I strained to hear every voice and to see into every corner. 

It was in those fading fleeting moments that I saw him.  At first sight, there was surprise, but he looked as happy as the rest.  He laughed and listened and those around him seemed pleased with his presence.  As the moment was disappearing, I heard his voice, a distinctive one speaking of the desire he had once had for money and something about thirty pieces of silver.  Each of them looked like men made new and fit for eternity and each bore the red stain not of wine, but of shed blood which seemed to loudly say, 'All forgiven.' "