I dreamt of liquid tar cascading down the incline of an auditorium of seats. I clasped the hand of a child and guided her to safety on the steeper sides of the room where the tar was less apt to glide. I knew how to escape the tar because I had experienced the same thing as a child. Back then, I had been covered partially in tar before someone had taken my hand and led me out. This history was revealed in the dream. The tar may have harmed me but I evidently survived to guide that little girl out of harm’s way. I wonder if the tar in the dream is symbolic of the incest I experienced. But, whose hand or what child have I saved from such harm? None comes to mind. Perhaps, it is a calling dream — a dream that indicates a path I should follow. But, how to help the thousands of little girls experiencing sexual abuse at the hands of the families? Not to forget the little boys either. But it was just one child in the dream. Maybe, one child at a time? I have to think on this. My life is open now with many possibilities. I will ponder this dream.