Chapter 28 Lotus dream-The Water Truck” (Lotus )
The dream opened in golden haze. The sun hung low over a stretch of land that felt both familiar and holy dust roads, wide fields, and air thick with summer heat. Lotus stood barefoot, her brown skin glowing like polished bronze under the light. Her curls were tied back in a scarf, her linen dress clinging to her from the work already done.
Up ahead, her father Joseph leaned against a beat-up silver water truck, the kind with chipped paint and the faint smell of metal and mud. Around him gathered a small crowd of restless animals sheep, goats, chickens, even a stubborn mule stamping and calling for water.
“Hey, babygirl,” Joseph called, his voice warm and teasing. “You wanna help your old man out? These animals thirsty. But the truck’s empty. So you gon’ have to take these buckets up to the lake. Fill the bowls one by one.”
Lotus smiled, even as she rolled her shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
The path stretched long and dappled with fallen leaves. Each step crunched beneath her feet. She scooped the lake water with care, carried it back to the sheep, and poured it into their troughs. They drank greedily.
She made another trip—but this time the trail was tangled with sticks and brush. On the next run, rocks joined the mess, bruising her feet through the thin soles of her shoes. Sweat slid down her neck. Her arms trembled. Still, she pushed on, thinking, I ain’t about to let my Daddy down.
By the third trip, she felt light-headed. That’s when she saw her.
A young Black woman, skin the deep tone of polished walnut, stood under a tree near the road. She was dressed in something old-fashioned—wide monpe trousers and a patched kimono-style wrap top, her hair pulled back neat with a single lotus-shaped earring glinting in the light. She looked like time itself had stopped for her.
“Hi, sweetheart,” the woman said, her voice smooth and knowing. “Looks like you’re working harder than you need to.”
Lotus squinted. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled, eyes kind but sharp. “Let’s just say I’m a friend of the family. And you, baby, are out here doing a lot of sweating for something that got an easier way.”
Lotus raised one brow. “Excuse me?”
“You fetching water one bucket at a time,” the woman said, chuckling low. “Meanwhile, your daddy standing next to a whole water truck.”
Lotus blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Mm-hmm. You so focused on proving yourself, you ain’t stop to look at what’s already here. You could’ve cleaned the path first, learned which animal needed what. You could’ve even rode that donkey over to help carry the load. But you didn’t. You just kept pushing harder. That’s what we do sometimes—think struggle mean progress.”
Lotus opened her mouth to reply—but the woman was gone. Just gone.
Back at the farm, Joseph was waiting with that half-smile fathers get when they know you learned something the hard way. “You look tired, baby. Need help?”
“Yes,” Lotus admitted. “And why didn’t you tell me the truck could hold water?”
He chuckled. “Because you ain’t ask. Truck’s fine—but the path ain’t. Clean that first. Then you can drive it.”
She nodded slowly. “So… I clear the path first.”
“That’s right. And while you at it, learn the land. Know your tools. Know your animals. You can’t tend what you don’t understand.”
Lotus spent the next while exploring. The place came alive. Chickens strutted like messy neighbors spreading gossip. The donkey side-eyed her with the same attitude as her cousin who always had something slick to say. The cats—sharp, clever, and mysterious—knew exactly where the hens hid their eggs. Each creature mirrored someone she knew or would meet, showing her something about love, patience, and discernment.
Once she’d cleared the road, Lotus went back to the lake. She dropped the hose in the water—but the surface boiled and rippled so wildly she couldn’t see a thing. Panic rose in her chest.
“Daddy!” she called. “I can’t find the hose!”
Joseph appeared beside her, steady as ever. “You can’t see through troubled water, baby. But when the water’s calm, you can see clear.”
The water stilled. Beneath it, the hose glimmered right in front of her.
“You see,” he said, smiling but firm, “that hose is your connection. It fills the whole tank so you don’t gotta keep giving from that little bucket. You ain’t even stopped to drink from your own bucket yet.”
His words sank deep. In a rush of flashes, she saw her life—giving too much, running on empty, mistaking motion for meaning. The path, the buckets, the animals—it was all her story.
The dream slowed until it was just her and her father standing in a green, open pasture.
He looked at her with love that carried weight. “Everything you need is already in your hands. You just gotta learn your land, tend what’s yours, and refill your tank before you pour into others. Work with what’s around you, not against it and you’ll never run dry.”
Lotus breathed in the stillness. The sun touched her skin like blessing oil.
Then she woke up.