My apologies, but I have to interrupt my writing today to report a dream. Last Monday night, I had a long but very clear dream. The location was Cedar Hill, Warwick — the entire hillside, including all the valley that consumes the bowling alley and the PHC football stadium, was filled with crowds of people.

Just what led to the episode was not clear but the intensity of the moment and the excitement in the crowd were obvious. They were there in anticipation of a resolution over a dispute on the destiny of the country, and were anxious. There were three groups of people that made up the crowds. Apparently, they were assembled for that purpose and many were angry because I was going to address them.

Unfortunately, when I tried to get to my microphone, my public-address system was down because my people — so intimidated by the rancour and hatred of the mob — hid instead among the crowd and abandoned my equipment. There were two other microphones being used, but by detractors. I took the microphone out of the hands of one of them and began to address the crowds amid jeers of angry protest at my very presence. I recall my very first words: “I know you are asking why am I here and I want to reverse that question and ask each of you, why the hell are you here? Then I want to ask why are we all here, and is it not because we need to be?”

After sighting the numerous failings in our community, including being lied to and deceived by leaders — and that’s why as a mob they were there — the further question I raised was whether you want to protest about it or solve it? I talked about economic development and asked do you want to march or build a new society?

I talked about us having a vision of our people becoming fully industrious, having trades and professions with everyone having skill sets, and our country becoming known once again as being industrious and enterprising, and asked if they wanted that. I asked again if they want to march for that or work towards that.

By now it had become obvious that there was becoming a shift in the crowd because my once-hidden supporters had become more comfortable and even visible because the third element of the rationalist was becoming more vociferous and supportive. In fact, a real detractor and former boxer had jumped up on stage to physically challenge me, but when he looked into my eyes and saw no fear but absolute resolve, he backed off and got no collateral support from the crowd.

Yes, the dream in some ways was terrifying, but we had to do what had to be done and say what needed to be said. It was significant in a number of ways. It was a massive crowd — 90 per cent black. It was Cedar Hill, Warwick, which is significant because most of that area was owned by my great-great-grandfather before being stolen in the great land grab of the 1940s. (Long before I knew my great-great-grandfather had owned the land, I would dream several times about owning land and would wake almost insanely believing I owned the land, which had to be a DNA transmission.) The only residual family now remaining on the hill are the Pearmans and a small family of DeShields.

It is not fair to interpret my dream because dreams can mean different things to people. It is likely that some others had a similar dream or an attachment to what I dreamt and could add to the dream, which would be more useful than me giving a limited interpretation. The substance of the dream was enough without the need for elucidation.

Notwithstanding, there were three salient points:

1, There was a crowd made up of three dispositions or groups of people

2, I had to use the microphone of an opponent because my supporters, or persons who supported my point of view, were too intimidated by the detractors

3, It was the rational element that at the end of the day gained the upper hand and possibly saved my life