At Some Level

Dreams are short. But some of them take a long time to tell....


So you have a real garden? asked Jesus. What's in it?

Oh, marigolds, violets, roses, lilies, I said. That's weird, come to think of it. They're all the ones in the song.

Not all, said Jesus. Check this out. And he was off again, singing.

The Crown Imperial bloometh too in yonder place, 'Tis Charity of stock divine the flower of Grace....

Yet, mid the brave, the bravest prize of all may claim, The Star Of Bethlehem- Jesus- blessed be his Name....

That's me, he said.

How come you're in your own garden? I asked.

Listen, said Jesus. Anyone can be in their own garden.

I mean it sounds like you're planted in your own garden.

It does a bit, said Jesus. But listen to this, the last verse.

Ah! Jesus Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete, make thou my heart thy garden plot, fair trim and neat.

Wait a minute, I said. That sounds like you'll be doing all the work in the garden!

Good heavens! said Jesus. So it does! What a stupid song. Nice tune though, don't you think?

Yes, I said. I like the way the lines don't fit the music.

Hey look! said Jesus, ignoring my remark. Someone's left a striped sock on the floor.

( Strange how dreams distort reality. As you know, I didn't see that sock till afterwards ).

How could they have missed it, I said, when it's so colourful ?

Yes, said Jesus. It makes you wonder. And see, the stripes are the same colours as my flowers, orange, violet, red and white and green. Now that just shows that everything in the universe is connected at some level.

Jesus! I said. That's deep.

The Blithe and Thrifty Marygold

My dream continued:

How does it go exactly? I asked Jesus.

The Lily, white in blossom there, is Chastity, the Violet, with sweet perfume, Humanity,
he crooned.

There you see, I said, that's where I have an issue. This is an old Dutch carol written in 1633. Humanity would not have had a pleasant smell.

You know, you're right! said Jesus. I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps I've been mishearing it all these years. But what else could it be?

I don't know, what does it sound like? How about Humility?

Humility! Yes! The humble Violet! That'll be it. I wonder what it is in Dutch?

And Jesus began humming happily again.

The bonny Damask-rose is known as Patience, The blithe and thrifty Marygold, Obedience...

Obedience! I interjected rudely.

( It was a dream. I'm usually quite polite. )

Now what? he asked.

The Marigold does whatever it likes, at least it does in our garden, I said. How does it represent obedience?

It was named after my mum, explained Jesus. When she was younger, he added.

What You Learn - Part two

And it's not just confined to what you learn about yourself. You learn a lot about the wider world as well, on a bus.

Take the trip home for example. I'm on a different bus, obviously. This one is travelling east. Behind me a group of Japanese girls are laughing and talking rapidly in Japanese. I suppose it's Japanese. One of them says "okay" three times in one sentence. I suppose it was one sentence.

The two girls sitting in front of me aren't Japanese. One has crinkly chestnut hair tied up in a topnot, the other has black wavy hair. They're wearing tops that are not identical, but an identical shade of violet. They're not talking. That's because one is reading. She is reading a small comic book.

I like to see what people are reading. And it's easy to do on a bus. Her book is called Bleach. It looks like a Japanese manga. The characters look fierce, or sad, and have those round eyes and spiked hair. She's holding it up quite high, so I can see. She turns a page. Now there's a cute animal character, that looks like a bear or a cat. Ichigo! it cries, in a speech bubble shaped like a star. Ichigo! I thought I told you to be gentle with me!

To be honest, I didn't learn anything from that. And anyway, I was more intrigued by the two girls' violet tops. One was a tee shirt and one was a hoodie. They weren't school uniforms. The girls were too old and one had long red nails. I wondered if they were sisters, or twins. The Mothra twins! But no...

It wasn't till later that I learned the story of Ichigo, Rukia, the Hollows and the Soul Reapers. And I didn't much care for it either.

But that's not the point.

The Disappearance of Indigo

As much as I admire your jumper, said Pliny thoughtfully, I prefer the colour indigo, which is a darker shade of blue. We ancients valued it highly. We imported it from India, in the form of a blue pigment, and used it extensively in painting and dyeing.

I like indigo as well, I said. But nowadays it's considered by most modern colour scientists not to be a separate colour at all.

Surely not! said Pliny, looking shocked.

Oh yes. Indigo has a wavelength between 420 and 450 nanometres, and anything with a wavelength shorter than 450 nanometres is classified as violet.

Outrageous! It looks nothing at all like violet.

That is probably what Newton thought. Although, apparently when he first identified the colours in the optical spectrum he only differentiated five. It was only later that he added orange, and then indigo.

After he had looked a little more carefully, nodded Pliny.

No, after he had decided that there ought to be seven colours in the spectrum, to match the number of days of the week, the number of notes in the major scale, and the number of planets that were known at the time.

Aha, said Pliny. I see. Now that makes perfect sense. Who is this excellent Newton?