Violent Dream

Sometimes I think I need a therapist and not a blog, BUT I have what I have. I had a terribly violent dream last night, and it seemed so real. The strange thing is usually a violent dream would wake me up, but this one didn't. The reason being that I went into crisis mode and controlled my emotions exactly the way I would in real life. Remembering what I dreamed today left me more distressed than I was in the moment I was actually dreaming it.

Now, the rest of my post is rated "R" due to violence, so quit reading if you don't want to know.

My dream was set in the past. It was either in the late nineteenth century or very early twentieth century. I was riding my bike through the town (wearing a rather Victorian costume). There were storm clouds over head, and I heard the warning bells. I knew something was wrong at my house, so I rode my bike to the edge of town and then I dropped my bike to run through the woods the rest of the way to my house. Mud was getting all over my white tights and skirt. By the time I got to the clearing where the house was, the sun was setting and it was getting dark. The police (in 19th century get up) were there. I could smell ash in the air. "Excuse me Miss, you can't go any further. It isn't safe and nothing can be done," an officer told me. I shook him off of me, and ran up the porch steps into the house which had clearly been on fire. Inside it was a bloody massacre. My family (it wasn't my real family but in my dream I knew it was my family) were all either dead or dying. I ran to my sister (I don't have a sister in real life, but in my dream I did) and a beam had fallen over her severing her bottom half from her top half. She was still blinking but she couldn't speak. I knelt down over her and tried to comfort her stroking her face. I stayed with her until she died. Blood was all over my white dress.

It is just a dream. This dream, though, felt really real.

Anyway, as violent and unpleasant as this dream was it does represent who I was made to be in some ways. Recently, I've been struggling with my faith. In a church your heart doesn't always show, but your questions and your doubt seem to.

I have never been a follower. It has gotten me into lots of trouble over the years. I remember once when Principal Sadie was trying to describe how incorrigible I was, she said to me "what would it be like if everyone was like this?" I had to agree that it would not be good. That statement was strikingly like something a professor had said to me in college. I got in BIG trouble for writing a paper that apparently rocked the boat and had to undergo some review to decide if my heart was in the right place for a mission minded school. I think I passed the review by the skin of my teeth.

Recently, I have been having another experience like this as I have helped my friend leave her husband. My brother even said to me, "Divorce is wrong and you shouldn't encourage this." Yet, when my friend says, "I want to end my life because of my unhappiness in this relationship," I never hesitated in my resolve to help her.

I guess what I am trying to say is that in the body of Christ we're not all the smile or the heart beat. Sometimes we're the eyes. We see the big mess. It looks different from our perspective. It's true that if everyone was stubborn and analytical and followed logic more than advice we would not be a peaceful world. Sometimes I do go too far. It's also true that there has to be some people like that or there would be even more injustice in this world.