I daydreamed love.
I daydreamt love?
I dreamt love?
I daydreamed love.

In the form of a pair of shoes I dreamt my mother slaving... working every day. Coming home feet busted, bruised, blistered... Only to lie down on her bed, turn the TV on till she passed out, then start again.

I dreamt that she bought me a pair of shoes that I had told her that I had liked.
These shoes coast almost a third of the rent that I had to pay. Or rather, that she had to pay.

She proceeded to buy this pair of shoes, even as I argued her not to. Even as I didn't tell her my shoe size, but she proceeded anyway.

I received the shoes.
I was scared to wear them.
I wore them every day, because I loved them.
They tore through.
Became worn.

And then my mother died.
And at her funeral all I could do was cry.

"How can you tell me to rejoice at all the good times we had? You're gone now, up to heaven... I know you'll be waiting for me..."

And then I saw, my Savior, my God.

Washing my feet.

My dirty feet. My feet that had dragged me to places of sin. My feet that led me to sin. My feet that stepped in shit. My feet that stepped over Christ as I went to do what I wanted to do. My feet that kicked Christ as he was down. My feet.

My dirty, fucking feet.

And he washed them. Dried them.

Then he died. On a Cross. For my sins.

That I may have a family, a father, brothers and sisters, forgiveness, grace, redemption, freedom, identity.

Thank you for your Love.

And then I woke back up to my infinity class.