Sunday, November 08, 2009
Like many others, I assume, as a kid I always had a reoccurring dream. I can still remember parts of it. There were barrels - the big, blue-gray, oil-filled kind - and they were rolling after me and I was running to get away. I always awoke before they caught me and crushed me.
When I was in high school the reoccurring dream was of me running a race. I would be running but felt like I was going nowhere, and often when I looked down my feet were moving in circles and I was in the air moving in slow motion. I couldn't get anywhere.
But I haven't had either of those dreams for quite a long time. I still, however, have a reoccurring dream. Now it always involves a church I've worshipped in and which is liturgical and confessional. There is always a pastor whom I know and trust to not go the way of the world. In my dream however, the service is crazy, with very un-historic liturgies -if any, dancers, people waving arms - and sometimes shouting alleluia or amen, and the pastor just standing there. I always wake up very confused, wondering what I just dreamed and why on earth would I dream that?
This dream has happened enough that I do wake up less confused and a bit more amused. This happened the other day. Upon waking, David said, "Guess what I just dreamed." It was his reoccurring dream, the one where he is the pastor and the service is beginning and something isn't ready (his robes are gone, the sermon isn't finished, the altar isn't set for the sacrament, etc.) I chuckled and told him I had my reoccurring dream as well.
Minds are funny things, and even more so are dreams.