Last night I had a strange, yet moving dream; all in glorious technicolour. (Yes, that’s how we spell ‘colour’ here.)

There was a group of women – of various ages, ethnicities and religious persuasion – standing on a platform. There was a bank of microphones in front so I assumed it was a media situation.

The women were dressed beautifully. There were gorgeous coloured saris, shalwar kameezes of various hues, a dark blue burka, a western business suit, a western frock and someone in some silk Chinese pyjamas. (My apologies to the Asians reading this, but I can’t help what my brain throws up in a dream state.) Several of the women had their head covered: some just had a shawl draped over their head, some had a hajib and, of course, the one in the burka was completely covered except for her eyes. I looked at them all standing there together and I thought, They’re all so beautiful.

Then, one of the ladies spoke. We are all women, she said. We dress differently, we have different coloured skin and we follow different religions. Sometimes our dress tells you what we believe and sometimes it doesn’t. But, we are all women. We are daughters, sisters, aunties, cousins, wives and mothers. We love our children and pray they will grow up happy, healthy and safe. We love our fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins and husbands. Just like you love yours. Below our skins, we have the same bones, muscles, veins and organs.

Then a man walked up onto the platform and began to pour buckets of liquid mud over the women. The audience, including me, shouted out in dismay.

Why do you protest? the spokeswoman said. You do this to us every day – with your cruel words, with your judgemental attitudes, with your lack of compassion and your unkind actions. You beat us. You rape us. You burn us. You sell us into slavery. When we come to you for help, you turn us away.

They cried. I cried. We all knew that in spite of making this stand, the changes we hoped for would take more than our lifetimes to come about. There is a sickness deep in the souls of men. Then there was a loud clap of thunder and a lightning strike close to the house and a terrified Wonder Dog started doing the Riverdance all over my chest.

Not sure where the dream came from because I was reading a book about an alien invasion before I went to sleep. But, I agree with everything that lovely woman said.
So, I’ll keep signing the petitions sent by Amnesty and Change.org and the other organisations that protest on our behalf. I’ll speak up at every opportunity I have. I’ll continue to write to my member of parliament about a fair go for refugees. And, when I meet someone of different race, colour or creed I’ll treat them as they deserve: as a fellow human being.