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Tuesday, February 18, 2014

My Church Dream

I went to a Methodist church as a child but never really found my place in the Christian faith.  Even though I turned my back on that church years ago I still visit it in my dreams.  Sometimes I'm there with a group of people doing something unimportant, sometimes I go there to meet someone with a purpose, and other times (like the one I'm writing about now) I dream about something significant and just happen to be in the church even though I don't understand why.

This one night I went to sleep and as I began to dream I found myself sitting on a pew in the church's sanctuary towards the back.  I was still in my pajamas and felt very bare and conspicuous.  I immediately got the impression that I was not supposed to be there.  The tension in the room was so thick, the emotions were swirls of anxiety and fear, and it was completely silent.  Suddenly a bizarre looking little middle-aged man with black hair spoke from his place behind the podium at the front of the room.  He loudly called a name that I couldn't pronounce.

A man two people down on my pew stood up.  His hands were shaking and he was crying.  The man in the front loudly asked "Do you know why you're here?"  Trembling, the man beside me nodded once.  He knew exactly why he was there.  With a wave of a hand from the black haired man the frightened man beside me appeared to explode but really imploded into a black hole within himself.  One minute he was there and the next second there was this empty space with black and silver sparks slowly floating to the ground where he once was.

The man at the front called another name, this one was a woman that stood several rows in front of me.  She nodded at her inevitable punishment and went on to implode just like the man before her.  I tried with every fiber of my body to become invisible, afraid that I would end up like those others: disappearing into complete nothingness.

All of a sudden a friend of mine (who always has a way of showing up in my dreams) crouched down low to make his way to me and sat down next to me on the pew.  He held my hand and whispered to me that these are the lost souls.  These are the bad souls that must be punished and be obliterated.  Unlike most people they will never have a future.  They will cease to exist.  The worst punishment imaginable.  He then squeezed my hand and whispered that we are not meant to see this.  We needed to go right that second before we got caught.

We slowly crawled on the floor and made our way to the double doors.  We silently pushed the doors open and slid out as another poor soul met their fate.  We ran barefoot and crying through cold dew drenched fields of thorny weeds and by the time we made it to a road miles away our legs were covered in blood and burning from the scratches.  As the headlights of an oncoming car came closer to us I woke up in a panic.  I was hyperventilating and shaking.  I quickly checked my legs, which were still burning and had the sensation of being wet.  I was surprised to find them completely unscathed.

That night I realized that I stumbled across something that I didn't really believe in until then, and something I wasn't meant to see (just like the room of transition when I helped my friend Samantha).  There are some things that the living are not meant to know about.  I think that moment in my church sanctuary was one of those instances.  I will never forget the feeling, the fear, the taking away of lives, and the sensation of relief when I realized that I made it out alive.  I hope to never find myself there again.

Thank you for reading my blog.

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