I dreamt I was looking at a map of the Middle East and northern Africa. It was black and white. All the names were gone though the lines showing borders remained. I kept trying to remember which country was where and I couldn’t remember any of them (not even Egypt or Saudi Arabia). As I started to cry in shame for not being able to tell them apart, I thought “How silly to cry over labels.” My tears continued, but they were now tears for the pain and grief suffered by the people living there. As I cried, it watered gardens that started to grow on the map (2D- topographical images). I heard in my mind that the tears shed for the people in this area will help to heal them. I cried on. I cried for a woman who found her son dead on a road, blown up by a mine. I cried for a little boy who was beaten for trying to visit his friend whose family was of opposing faith/party/affiliation. As I cried for him, I saw him as an adult, first fighting against his also adult friend, then they recognized each other and embraced. I cried when they fell together, taken out by the bullets of one side or the other. I cried for others. I am crying still.