Synchronicity: Dancing with the Sister of Mercy

Late last night I was sitting in a McDonald's drinking coffee and reading The Secret School, Whitley Strieber's 1997 book about his childhood memories of attending -- as you may have guessed -- a nocturnal "secret school" with other children. These lessons took place in the Olmos Basin in San Antonio and were presided over by the "Sister of Mercy," a strange nun who did not appear to be entirely human. (For parallels in Strieber's fiction, see the secret school in The Night Church and the Sisters of Mercy in Cat Magic.)

Here is some of what I had just read, from pp. 157-160.

The result [of struggling to recall some suppressed childhood memories] was a total blank, and a return of the feeling that had worried me from the beginning, that this was nothing more than an act of the imagination, an interesting but essentially worthless exercise. [. . .]

I sat listening to the sighing leaves of the old live oak and trying to evoke memory without also bringing my imagination to bear.

I closed my eyes, thinking of the Sister of Mercy. Immediately, I remembered [. . .]

I remembered that I saw inside her wimple once, and it looked as if a giant moth was staring out at me. My whole being rocked with terror.

We would get up and go round and round, dancing. The sister danced with us, her habit whooshing in the dark. We danced the backward dance, going past the ages, deep into time. And as we danced in 1954, we joined to our dance in Rome, and to another dance, longer past.

Everything is dance, she would say -- dance of time; dance of life; dance of fate; dance of air, water, and light; dance of fire and future; history dance. Evil, love, good, hate, holy, cruel -- all the dances are the dance.

As I read that last paragraph -- dance dance dance -- I suddenly became aware of the background music that was playing in the restaurant. The line "Will I dance for you, Jesus?" caught my attention, both because of its incongruity (since when does McDonald's play religious music?) and because it synched with what I was reading. The song was soon over, but I looked up the lyrics on my phone to see what it had been, and it was "I Can Only Imagine" (2001) by a Christian pop band called MercyMe -- apparently a cover, since the vocalist had been female but MercyMe is an all-male group.

The synchronicity goes beyond the reference to dancing. A female cover of MercyMe syncs with the Sister of Mercy; and the name of the song, "I Can Only Imagine," reflects the concern repeatedly expressed by Strieber that his apparent memories may in fact be "nothing more than an act of the imagination." The song also contains the lines "I can only imagine / What my eyes would see / When your face is before me" -- which reminds me of Strieber's looking inside the Sister's wimple and seeing something very unexpected!