Sleep Dream.   I am in Riga. Old Town. I’ve gone into a Latvian crafts store, similar to, but smaller than "Stallis.“ I am the only customer in the store. As I look around, on top of a glass-topped display case I see a lovely hand-made blank book. A chocolate toned, hand tooled leather cover. A bit narrower than this journal, but an inch of two thicker, wIth a fine white paper. I admire its beauty, its crafsmanship, its Latvian design. I pick it up. When I flip thorugh its pages, it turns out that the first pages are not blank, but, instead, covered with well-executed scipt in black ink. Reading the very first page, it is a dedication. To me! It’s from the Latfvian language school in the Springs, from the teachers, to me! Following the dedication are several pages of black-ink handwriting. I realize that his was a special gift for me in honor of some occasion, but that it never made its way to me. And somehow, it made it to Riga, 35 or so years later, to be sold! And I find it! I am surprised, but not tremendously so. The leather-bound book feels good. It’s not an artifact from the past that causes my stomach to curdle or induces shallow breathing. It evokes positive feelings.
Dream Associaitions.  As I was writing it down, it struck me that it had to do with me and Latvian language. That the gift aspect of my past, my Latvian past, has to do with language and writing. That there are those who wrote in the leather journal, adults from my Colo. Spgs past, who, unlike Armīns and Zaiga, really do want me to tell my true stories. To find the human gold in my past and share it.
I can see Mrs. S., her eyes filled with kindness, looking at me: „I know it was difficult with your mother, that she could be so very mean to you. I’m sorry I could never defend you against her! The Latvian world meant certain things to her, it was tied to great pain and anger inside of her, that she then scalded you with. You have every reason and every right to reject the Latvian world. But I want you to know that there were Latvian adults who were rooting for you, who really liked you and thought you were wonderful. Don’t associate the Latvian tongue with just your mother and her rage. We, who signed your blank book, truly wanted you to realize that this language is also a vessel of love and compassion. Those of us who bought you this book, many of whom you don’t know, saw that you have a real voice, a beautful heart, a powerful mind. And we wanted to see you use all of these gifts. Not for you mother’s agenda of fulminating hatred, but for stories of love and compassion. YOUR stories. We still want to see you embrace your gifts, one of which your Latvian connection. We were not able to protect you from your mother back then. As you all-too-well know, her rage and hatred were formidable. She terrified us, too. She took away this book before we could give it to you. Know this, Vitaut, to be true: Back in your years of Hell, when no one was actively protecting you, your battle was seen. We, living and dead back then, more of us dead now, were always rooting for you, even if we could not aid you.“
"And please know that now, too, you are not alone. We, your Soul Family, your soul ancestors, want to hear you voice, your Stories, your Truths. Your crisis of late has been to think that the Latvian tongue connects you to no one who cares. This is not true! We all care profoundly.“
"Please, hear us, see us, and be our voice too! Your stories are ours. Be a Bridge between all you know to be beautiful that resides in Latvian and the rest of the world. Don’t shut down! Don’t shut us out!“
"You’ve had to walk an enormously painful journey, alone. You had to do it alone. We could not walk it with you. But know that you have always been in our hearts. You are a Special One. You now have found us, you Family. You are now annealed, you are ready to step out and Talk. We care about you profoundly. Be our Voice, your own Voice, Dieviņš voice. You are not alone!“