Last night I had a peculiar dream, I was an elderly man visiting an old, plantation-style house which seemed to have incredible memories of power and love for me. A pleasantly, nostalgic experience. As I entered the house, I noticed a group of men communing around a table. They were wearing vintage clothing and seemed to be moving about their evening completely uninterested by my presence or even aware of my intrusion.
Eventually, I joined in conversation with one of the elderly men only to be informed that I was a ghost. I was taken aback, not previously aware of my death. I asked him why they were all unsurprised by my presence if I was indeed a ghost and he revealed that the ghost of an elderly woman visited their property once a year and had done so for a very long time.
I awoke with a horrible longing for this lost love.
Memories started flooding in. I knew this woman. I remembered her as a young girl…one that I had been madly in love with. Something had taken us away from each other. We had broken up, continued on with our own lives and she’d visited the place where our best memories had been formed…on a grassy knoll just outside the house I was in.
I awoke with a horrible longing for this lost love. I was broken-hearted and hurting in an awful way that I hadn’t felt for years; like a bad break-up.
More of the dream began to unfold as I lay awake, eyes closed, in bed. It was as if I was writing a play that had already been written and I just needed to remember the details. I started putting together pieces of the story. The more I thought about these details, the more I realized something important: I wasn’t dead. I was alive.
I stomped the wooden floor under my feet. It made noise. I reached next to me and touched the ceramic pot holding a plant on the window sill then moved my fingers to the dirt that held the plant secure. I could feel it all. I could move it.
It was as if I was writing a play that had already been written
I had been deceived by these men in an almost comical manner. In my anger, I quickly thrust my hands at the man I was talking with to grab his collar and question him. To my surprise, my hands went right through him leaving a ghostly wisp of smoke in the air. They were the ghosts. He continued to inform me that today was the day that my old love would visit this year. I was unable to imagine how this reunion would take place, yet it comforted my previous anguish.
I rose from the daydream to grab breakfast downstairs. I took Dan Baumann’s book “A Beautiful Way” with me. Dan states in the book that he discovered God’s intimacy while merely throwing rocks and that we cannot do anything for God that isn’t out of response since he first loved us (John 6:44).
He spoke that I’m alive and well
I was pondering this subject when God spoke to me. He said that the heartbreak this dream had left me with was a piece of His heart for me. He reminded me of the depressive deception I’ve been living in for years. He spoke that I’m alive and well. He said that the woman in my dream was Him and that once again he is visiting me with an invitation of rekindled love…so I accepted.
I now lay here completely overwhelmed with joy, deep thankfulness for seemingly irrelevant things, and a new understanding in my heart of what intimacy with Jesus is.
Photo graciously provided by kasiakay