cradle

I was sitting on the ground, cross-legged, talking to a child who was sitting on a bench, slightly above me. She was about ten years old; a beautiful Chinese girl. As I spoke with her, I became aware of a much younger child sitting on my right hand side, leaning into me and holding my hand. She was another beautiful Chinese girl, about four years old. As I spoke with the older child, I gently rocked sideways, back and forth, so that I was rocking the younger child, holding her hand. I wanted to cradle her so I picked her up and put her across my legs, and as I did so, she changed so that she was much smaller, a baby, inside a cradle that was shaped like a shoebox. She was lying in the deepest half off the shoebox, and the lid was hinged to the base. The cradle was made from wood. I held the cradle in my arms and noticed that there was an ornate silver mirror kept inside the lid. It was as long as the baby. I took the mirror out and saw that it was engraved with butterflies and birds, with some shimmering details painted in yellow. I put the mirror back into the lid and saw that there was liquid in the lid. I took the mirror out again and wiped under it to protect it. When I put it back in, I looked at the baby and she had changed again. Now she was an old, old woman, but she was still the shape and size of a baby, lying in the cradle. Her face was so old it was almost alien; a tiny bluish woman. I looked at the mirror again and now it was engraved with skulls and bones. It was still very ornate but it looked terribly old and mystical. The cradle now resembled a miniature coffin. The woman spoke to me, telling me that she was ready to die, and I was to rock her to death. I was to help her transition from this life into another.