For centuries, dreams have guided nations toward (or away from) their destinies. Dreams have revealed the divine plan for countries, cultures, citizens.

In the Old Testament, God spoke through dreams in both plain words and symbols. A famous political prophecy is the dream of the Egyptian Pharaoh (Genesis: 30-46): “In my dream, I stood upon the banks of a river. There stood seven fat cows. As I looked, lo! there came from out of the river, seven lean cows, and before my very eyes, they swallowed the seven fat cows, but remained as lean as before. And, then I saw seven empty ears of corn swallow seven full ears of corn, but remain just as thin as ever.”

Joseph, who became Pharaoh’s chief governor, interpreted the dream as seven years of plenty and seven of famine; he proscribed a public policy of storing food during the seven abundant years to prevent starvation during the next seven years of lack. His assessment saved the nation.

Wise Ways

In the Bible’s Book of Daniel, a dream in the second year of his reign troubled Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, famous for the magnificent gardens hanging outside his palace. He saw a gigantic statue “with the head of gold, breast and arms of silver; thighs and belly of brass, and legs of iron. The feet and toes were a mixture of iron and clay. “

Filled with hubris, Nebuchadnezzar commanded the people to worship a golden idol he commissioned. In a lesson for leaders with designs of empire, Nebuchadnezzar’s kingdom crumbled and the king descended into madness.

Eventually, the King listened to the wisdom of Daniel, his court adviser, and changed his ways. After seven years, Nebuchadnezzar’s sanity returned and “the honor and glory he once possessed were restored to him.”

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painting © by Claudia Chapline

In a dream, I’m standing on a ladder painting a large (American) flag. When I awoke the next day, I sketched the flag in my journal and then I made a small painting from the drawing/dream. The stars resemble exploding bombs, the stripes, missiles. A skeleton’s head emerges from the war machinery.

For me, the flag painting symbolizes the discrepancy between American ideals and manifest American policy.

March 11, 2006*
Claudia Chapline
Artist, activist, Gallery owner
Stinson Beach, California

* Around the time of the dream, marking the third anniversary of the U.S. bombing of Iraq, the U.S. invasion and occupation had killed  hundreds of thousands of Iraqis.

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THE PEACE POETRY OF CLAUDIA CHAPLINE

March Wind in February

Roaring dark branches crash against the house
weather strips whistle wind songs sunbrellas
flap white caps yellow chairs in the lagoon
pine trees wave hello crane pulleys sway overhead

aluminum thoughts plastic words fly in and out
say goodbye dreams fragment gates open
between sleep and waking I wheel out and in
outside a feral cat cries

elsewhere a flag shreds the far groaning
screams in a wind of fire I see it a flag of
death red stripes of blood dripping on the
white ribs of civilizations the stars fiery
sparks from bombs bursting in the blue black
night of lands destroyed in this wind of war

but here now in Eastcoot Creek wild salmon
still spawn between the willows
here the camp the captain time being what
not forever spilling seeds of life in silver mist.

October 10, 2001

On the anniversary of my mother¹s death
the United States is bombing Afghanistan
they are bombing Afghanistan
to rid the world of evil

To rid the world of evil
the U.S. military
is killing Afghan civilians.
food drops onto landmines.

my tears are falling
on the anniversary of
my mother¹s death.
it is Arts Day in California.

How They Strut

High mucky mucks decorate each other
with ribboned medals of valor for service
in the war of their making

women of the world
raise your voices against their wars

I see the goddess Kali dancing with them her
dance of death she wears a necklace of skulls
she holds a bloody head in her left hand a
burnt child in the other

women of the world remove your rings
that sparkle with African tears

how they strut those high mucky mucks
preserving freedom to kill for oil

women of the world join hands
in a circle of love

how they strut smiling those
greedy killers patting each other¹s backs

walk together toward a necklace of peace
women of the world

how they strut those old men with pendulous bellies
while their young civil servants sons of other fathers
fall and die in their War on Iraq

how they strut while the world cries
for the voices of women
the voices of love.

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