Interpreter of Dreams - that's me.

I may become an interpreter of dreams. Sounds like a fascinating service to people. Joseph from the twelve tribes of Israel did; also Daniel who was thrown into the Lion’s Den. Of course there were times when they did reveal the meaning of dreams, they were punished for it.

Maybe interpreting dreams for others isn’t such a good idea after all. People want to hear good things concerning themselves and their future and dreams, I’ve learned, may not always have a pleasant meaning. So I’ll stick to analyzing my own.

Several years ago I was distraught over my children leaving home, thus not needing me anymore. My dreams became uncomfortable. Many nights I woke up in agitation, cold and feeling miserable to the point of tears. The dreams kept occurring - they were always the same. I found myself in a big unfamiliar house, empty of furnishings. There were cracks in the old wood floors, the window panes were broken. I somehow knew my children were older, yet there were little children I was responsible for. In each dream they crowded around me, cold and shivering only to get warm and squirm until they got up to play again. In each dream I wrapped my long dress around them as we huddled in a corner of the big room with its tall ceilings. I tried to assure them everything would be all right - “soon we will find our way and be out of this situation.”

At this point in the dream, I’d wake up. It was always during the early hours of the morning, not time to get up and face the day. I would always reach for the covers hoping to relieve the chill I felt deep in my bones and try to drift off to sleep again, the disturbing dream still permeating my sleep deprived brain.

Time passed, and yet again the same dream, with little variation returned to disturb my sleep only days later. Eventually I was able to give meaning to the dream.

I was having difficulty with my “little ones” flight from my nest. I had not pushed them out as the Mother birds do. It was only natural they find their way in this world and become successful. Yet I was feeling there was something else I might could say, or do to prepare them for the stark and harsh world that would not always be kind. Had I sufficiently prepared them? Would they make it without my direction?

Unintentionally, I was still giving them advice, still trying to direct the choir, or in my case the quartet. When I saw them making a choice without consulting me, I panicked only to cause misunderstanding and often hard feelings. I still wanted to be the director, the teacher, or the advisor. I did not like the idea they “needed me less” now they knew how to walk on their own.

After almost a year of the recurring dream, along with much thought and prayer, the Lord showed me the meaning of my dream.

The old drafty house  with its tall ceilings was the world - the unfamiliar world they were entering into. Naturally it would have worn floors, and broken window panes. It was old and imperfect.

I was there with them, yet my abilities could not meet their need. There was not enough fabric in my dress to cover them; my arms were not long enough to hold them close to my body. They kept wiggling out from under my cover, or turning loose of my hand.  They did come to me momentarily, only to get away again to explore.   I felt responsible to keep them safe from the darkness of the unknown and it was overwhelming me; it was getting too big for one.

The Lord helped me to realize, I was not supposed to keep them warm. Though I sensed they were small, in actuality they were not. They could keep themselves warm. They would make it. I had to get out of the old house that challenged me and let them go - keeping a watch from a distance. My responsibility was not to direct the quartet - but to listen and watch as they made it on their own taking what they had learned and making their own way with my blessing; Though it was not an easy task, having the understanding caused calm to return to my changing life.

From the day I understood, the dream has never returned.

Today I am dreaming another kind of dream. This time I may sleep until morning but my mind searches for the people who present themselves in my dream. They are familiar somehow, yet I can’t call them by name. There are always people coming and going, with little regard for me and my stumbling. My heart hurts, I want to cry out, yet people are so busy I hesitate to reach out.

A few nights ago however, I met a familiar man. To tell you what he looked like, I cannot. His face never materialized. In the dream I knew him, he knew me. I did not call him by name, it didn’t seem necessary. I had this overwhelming feeling of, “Awe, he found me. He is back.” In the midst of the crowd I felt  him smile as he reached for me. His broad shoulders and muscular arms embraced me without words. I can’t explain even now the effect it had on my whole being at that moment. I wanted to stay there. In a flash, there was no one in the room or on earth but him and me. Yet it was awkward for the moment. I sensed he had come to stay this time; that from now on he would not be very far away. So our embrace was swift, yet not condemning. 

There were crowds of people around me, all doing their own thing; paying no attention to me, yet my eyes kept looking for him. There may have been a moment when I could not see him, but momentarily he was there. And more likely than not, he would work his way through the crowd to where I was. Each time he held me again. Once in his embrace I had to take the chance of being rejected by saying something that had lodged itself on my tongue and was about to roll off my lips.

“I love you so much” I whispered as I buried my face in his shoulder, his arms encircled me, and I felt safeven accepted. Even though I wept I did not feel ashamed at the exposure to my weakness at allowing another to see me as weak. Several times during the dream, he embraced me and even though he never opened his mouth to verbalize any feelings he might have, somehow his finding me in the crowd and openly showing affection was enough, especially when he was unashamed to allow the crowd to see him with me.

The following night, I looked for him again before I went to sleep. I silently prayed he would return and embrace me again…..

I truly hope this isn’t the last time we meet in a dream. This is like a love story in which we want to know the ending. However for now, I think I have it.

Of course he was familiar. Of course he was strong and loving. For sure we were not strangers. For sure he will again come through a crowd, break down a wall if necessary, walk on water, and climb a mountain of what may be an obstacle/hurdle to me, just to let me know HE NEVER LEAVES ME NOR forsakes me, and too He is never far away.

Doris

August 5, 2012