The Thing About Dreams

Another photo from my morning walks this season.

This past week I was seven days into a Daniel fast with others from my community. We didn’t quite know what we were fasting for, but it felt necessary. For me, I was looking for clarity. For what though, I didn’t even know.

Two days ago I felt an outside-of-myself feeling. I don’t know how to describe it other than I had an expectation I was about to be visited in a dream. Come evening, I laid in bed and instantly fell asleep.

When I woke up drenched in my own sweat at 2am, I had forgotten about whatever warning I received. My eyes would close but my mind was like a city. I must have checked the clock a dozen times but the seconds seemed to be slowing. 

While asleep I saw two infant babies. Immediately I noticed they were attached at the head. I was overwhelmed with urgency. I understood this was fatal. Yet both tiny things still had a hope of living. Now, no longer dreaming, the urgency had not departed. There was a sense I needed to take action. Somehow these little lives were mine.

I spent the rest of the night with my eyes sweeping across the ceiling. 

What did it mean? What did it mean? Why are you doing this to me?

Hours elapsed. Then the Sun rose. Much like the notice of the dream came ancient prose:

I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days.

Those words first written by the Prophet Joel were later recalled by the Apostle Peter. This verse was somehow a clue to the things I had seen. Moving slowly to my study I opened a bible to the book of Acts. Immediately following Peter’s recitation of Joel’s prophetic words I read:

Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs…

Then came, inexplicably, clarity. I saw what these two children meant to me. I had written a book over the past two years and though nearing completion with my publisher we both didn’t feel good. That feeling permeated everything. Much of my weekly works were an attempt to discover what was missing.

l didn’t need to continue creating or consuming. Suspending even food helped me see: I had produced not one but two, and they were fatally entangled. But there was still something I could do. 

Meeting with my publisher this morning I told her about my dream. After swapping stories, it was evident I had clarity and she was at peace.

I am going to spend the next few weeks on this metaphorical surgery. To save the idea or ideas at least for me, I have to take time away from publishing weekly. To all of you who have supported me here over the past two years, thank you. I’ll be back when the book is ready.

Until then,

-Steven