I dreamt of an angel today.

Since it was a dream, our familiar laws of time and space obviously did not apply. So this may have happened over many years. Or in the blink of an eye.

Anyway.

This was a fairly new angel. Still had all his feathers. His first trip back home. To earth. The inauguration, consecration, institutialization and benediction of an angel takes time. And can be gruelling. So he started out on his trip somewhat absent-minded. He had also become accustomed to the quiet setting in heaven. Where noone locked their doors. And the only sound you would hear were the whistles from the train in the morning, as it pulled into the station with a fresh batch of angel material.

Therefore, as he descended further and further, he became somewhat anxious when he started experiencing the hustle and bustle of the earthly life again. He realized that he had simply forgotten all about how frantic life could get down here. Well, at least he had been paying attention in angel orientation. This wasn't going to unseat him. Not his newfound stoic self.

Finally, he came down through the clouds, and kind of hovered just above the houses and the streets, the telephone poles and the trees. Funny how being thirty feet in the air changes your perspective, he thought. He started to look for his destination, but soon realized that he had strayed quite a distance during the descent. It looked like he had still a very long way to go. He had, in his absentmindedness, simply gone back home. Instead of where he was supposed to go.

The angel started to float towards his destination. He hadn't quite mastered that flying thing, so he kind of just floated along. Which was fine by him. Granted, it took him much longer getting between places. But instead, he got to look at all the strange games people play. He actually looked forward to seeing interesting and amusing things while he floated to his destination.

But what he saw was hardly interesting, and definetly not amusing. He saw boredom and stupidity, depression and anger, and even cruelty. He remembered the world as being more colorful, somehow. They seemed to be using way too much gray.

Nothing, however, could prepare him for what waited for him at the end of his trip. As he approached the house, which was his destination, he kind of rolled by this large, old tree. He liked trees, but wasn't too good with their names. This was one of these thick, really, really tall trees, with a large and wide crown of fresh, dark-green leaves. And almost at the very top, there was something moving.

At first, the angel thought it was a squirrel. They had lots of squirrels in heaven, so he wasn't really intrigued with them anymore. He had been fascinated when he first saw them, because they did not exist where he came from. But now he had become sort of blasé about squirrels, and had therefore almost floated on by, when he realized that this was not a squirrel at all.

It was a bird! And not just your every-day run-of-the-mill bird. No. This was an exceptional bird. Small, but graceful, with brightly colored feathers and beautiful wings. When the angel looked closer, the bird turned its head and looked straight into the angel's eyes. For a moment, the angel felt as if he would fall to the ground. Somehow, this little bird's gaze jolted him. Even frightened him. He saw in its eyes so much sadness. And grief. And compassion. And love. he had to use all his strength to gather himself. But just as he had somewhat regained his stoic composure, the bird began to sing.

The song was the most beautiful thing that the angel had ever heard. And he had been living in heaven for a long time. The notes seemed to carry with them all the burdens of the earthly life, but at the same time they did something to the angel's soul. He became scared. He tried to fight it. But as the bird sang on, the angel slowly lost his perfect composure.

He began to cry. The tears flowed from his eyes, and his soul filled to the brim with melancholy and unfettered feelings for the little bird and its song. He cried so loud that the houses and the streets and telephone poles and the trees trembled, ever so slightly.

And that's when I woke up. The light had just turned green. I made a right turn and drove down the street.

I have never had an overdraft.

I have never had a credit card debt. I have always managed to pay off my credit card bill in full at the end of the month. Except for my mortgage, and my car loan, I have never borrowed money in my life. All that changed today.

Now, I am a proud owner of a HELOC. For those that are uninitiated, it isn't a form of helicopter. "MEDIVAC" was what sprang to my mind when I first heard it. No, HELOC is a fancy overdraft. A 'Home Equity Line Of Credit', no less. It's basically a second mortgage, but instead of you using the money for something useful, like paying down what you owe in your house, you are supposed to use it for spending. It even says so in the loan terms. Not to be used for investing, saving or business ventures. Nope. This is to be used to buy all those useless 'things'. All that stuff that you really don't use. The stuff that many people genuinely believe is the purpose of life to get their hands on.

We got the HELOC to pay off a $2000 loan that my wife took a couple of years ago. Her first loan, excluding student loans. So we applied for a $2000 HELOC. And got promptly declined. Why? Well, there is a $10.000 minimum! So we applied again. For $10.000. And were greated with smiles and hearty handshakes from the 'loan processing specialist'.

And then we got a fat checkbook. To write out checks directly against our spiffy $10.000 line of credit.

No wonder everybody is neck deep in debt in this country. Are you feeling happy yet?

I just said good-bye to very dear friends of mine. One of them used to be my lover, actually. Almost twenty years ago. She was my first real love. Luckily, we managed to keep our friendship, and then grow it. It doesn't hurt that she and my wife are really good friends.

And now she has found someone to share her life with. A truly wonderful, intelligent person. She chose to spend her birthday with us, and then they decided to stay the weekend.

Yesterday, we had originally planned to have two more of our dearer friends over, since I have for the longest time envisioned that the four of them would enjoy each others company. But over the course of the day, more and more of our friends called us, and subsequently accepted an invitation to join us.

In the end, there were twelve of us that sat down for dinner. In our little dining room. I made carbonara. For sixteen. Still, every single scrap of it was eaten. My wife made a large bowl of salad. That disappeared as well. An apple crisp and a gallon of ice cream went the same way. As did numerous bottles of Valpolicella. I don't think that you can pay me a higher compliment than enjoying my food. I mean really enjoying my food. That moment when somebody pulls at your sleave, looks you deep in the eye and says quietly in this child-like honest manner: "Thank you!" That just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. And I am a sucker for feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

It really feels good, having butterflies in your stomach.

My daughter and I are playing together. I have this slight hangover. She is sitting on me, banging the bejesus out of a wooden toy. It seems to be an accompaniment to this song that she is singing. In a foreign tongue. She is fascinated with the fact that I don't understand a word of it. What a luddite!

We snuck out of bed this morning. We were both awake anyway, and her mother was sound asleep. Poor thing. She had been chatting into the night with our houseguests, who celebrated one of their birthdays with us last night. They even brought the meat and the wine! And now I have three women sleeping soundly in their beds upstairs. Preparing for their hangover. While I listen to the fourth one, singing beautifully to me: "A-dud-daaaaad, de dud-deeeeeee"

What more can you ask of a Saturday morning?

I live in fire.

I thrive on constant challenges. I may fail. Even more often than I succeed. But I can't keep off my feet.

I rage against injustice and cruelty and am disheartened by how little impact it has. Addicted to kindness and a slave to my emotions. Fuelled by love and frightened by indifference. I do get burned, but can not stop.

Living is a luxury. Despite not knowing all the alternatives, I am convinced that life is the ultimate high. And it can be exhausting. Being ablaze wears your soul down. From time to time.

And then you go and discover another person who calms you down. My wife has a way with my soul. She caresses it and heals it and strengthens it, just as easily as she will receive strength and affection from me. We live in balance, and after spending more than a decade together, we are at peace. She has shown me that it is not about possession. That you really can not own another person. The futility of jealousy. How caring for one person does not mean that you love another less. It is from these truths that we know that we will always be together. That you actually can live in love.

What an invaluable source to draw from! You gain respect for the rest of human kind. You want to see, feel, give, love. And you start paying attention. You realize, sometimes only for a brief moment at a time, that people can contain treasures that are more precious than anything else in this world. Vast richness lies beneath the callous sarcasm and distrust of everyday life. You start seeing glimpses of this wealth in the eyes of strangers. People that you thought you knew, suddenly become exceptional to you. They shine in the brilliance of their grand design. And you are brought down to your knees by the quiet and overwhelming beauty of creation. It is enough to make you believe.

It is strange. Watching this week coming to an end. I have been struggling with how to write about it. This has been the week when I have been treated to amazing trust and affection and patience and genuine attention. I now know, after becoming a father myself, that you can show no more trust to a man than exposing your children to him. This week, I had somebody look me quietly in the eye and see right into my soul, while I was being hugged by their beautiful children. No words were needed, because nothing needed to be said. It was soothing. It was a truly good moment. Time stopped, ever so briefly, and then continued its frantic pace.

Blazing on.

Three days here, and I'm exhausted!

Maybe it's the city life. Maybe it's just being back. Anyway, the day has fewer hours in it over here. That much is certain.

I taught two classes this morning. Teaching can be so much fun! There is somthing so innocent and fresh about law students. Their minds have some of the qualities of small children, in that everything is still so new, and their questions are so original. But at the same time they are intelligent enough, and have seen and experienced enough, so that their original thoughts are actually engaging, even daring.

The engineering students were different. Not less fun. Just different.

Getting a little tired.

Got less than two hours worth of sleep last night.

Oh how I wish I could lay down on a grass meadow, filled with yellow flowers, under a warm sun, and rest my head in a comforting lap, with gentle arms caressing my weary head.