“Sleep my little baby-oh
Sleep until you waken
When you wake you’ll see the world
If I’m not mistaken…
Kiss a lover
Dance a measure,
Find your name
And buried treasure…
Face your life
Leave no path untaken.”
― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book
Many tried to wake me up while I lay fast asleep. I remember those who spoke to me with urgency on their faces. They had been where I was going, they saw the signs of a long hibernation, and they warned me, but I could not hear them. I had closed off my options. There were only two options. The world became very black and white, and if I did not dive headlong into my fundamentalist faith, then Hell was the result.
They loved me. So they tried to warn me, but the time for me to hear was many years away.
I have done the same thing since. I have watched young women, hungry for truth and searching for a safe place, grasp hold of the promises made by the sharp dualistic world of fundamentalism.
I couldn’t keep silent. I warned. I cried. I begged. They began to see me as an agent of Satan. I stopped, finally learning. I stood by as the sparkle went out of their eyes. My heart ached for them but I finally understood. The sleeper cannot awake until the sleeper is ready.