A few nights ago, I had a terrible dream. It was announced that nuclear warheads had been activated and that everyone had five minutes to say their good-byes to each other. Everyone was orderly, if not in shock. No orgies, just preparation.

How does one prepare for something like that?

I checked first to make sure that Partner was okay in that dream-like ability to see across vast distances. Then on to check in with my daughters.

One was away, so I tried to reach her by cell phone. With my aging eyes, I could not see the numbers on the keypad very well and kept mis-dialing. An ad popped up on my cell phone that wasted precious time from reaching my daughter. In frustration, I handed the phone to my other daughter so she could reach her and I took my grandson into my arms.

All that mattered was trying to make sure everyone was okay.

What was so heartbreaking was that as I was holding my grandson and thinking about how to care for him in our last moments, I knew that we would be blown into outer space. No air, no oxygen, freezing temperatures.

Grandson was a baby in this dream, not the talking, walking toddler that he has become. He was this chunky little bundle of smiles and potential. Ordinarily, holding him would have been one of my greatest joys, except for the horrifying context.

Awakening from the dream before the blast resulted in a deep sense of sadness and heartfelt pain. Usually, I can shake off dream effects by rationalizing it as a fitful night's sleep or some such thing. But this one lingered.

What kind of future are we offering our children and their babies?

In one sense, we will all pass. But those moments in the dream - when something ominous was looming, not just for myself, but everyone - left me feeling unnerved.

I shared this dream with my meditation group. Several commented on aspects of the dream that spoke to what resonated for them: a communication issue with a daughter, the Tuscon shootings and the senseless loss of a nine-year old girl and others, the constant chatter of more opinion than news in the media, the rapid change in technological advances, the immediacy of decision-making, the clarity of what is or is not important as our time runs out.

A few days ago, a Quaker luncheon was held with a group who has been meeting for the past year. This day's theme was about hope.

Lots of discussion was held about ways to focus on the positive or healing. In many ways, people tended to talk in metaphoric terms: the rising of the sun, the rhythms of the seasons, or the lenses we choose to view the world through.

What they were talking about sounded more like trying to explain their faith rather than how to offer hope. Afterwards, I was reminded of the famous scripture in Corinthians saying that faith, hope and love are crucial for one's spiritual life; and if there is a value that stands out as most important, it is love. Love points to and is at the same time the way in which we are encouraged to embrace life.

My prayer is for us elders to step up to the plate to model love and compassion so that our children and their children can share the kindness and care they have received with the world's family - so that no one is left behind or out.