In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men… ~Job 4:13
I’m not sure if a blog is the right place to do this, but where else can I declare my feelings on writing? I have lost too many friends this year to realise there is only one life and one chance to write this.
If I had my way, all my readers would be sitting in a hall listening to the following:
Just before my parents’ divorce, I dreamt that my brother, our two best friends and I jumped into a pool. We woke up in heaven, but all went our separate ways…
I followed my guardian angel. Her name is Rebecca. She is over 2 metres tall, carries a golden belt around her waist and has the softest golden locks. I know, angels don’t have genders, but she symbolised womanly strength I was seeking at that time.
I asked her to show me Jesus Christ. There, in a beautiful garden filled with palm trees was a white tent. On the other side, I saw blind and paralysed people walking into a building and coming out completely healed. I was anxious to meet Him. My mom was a strong Christian, but I had questioned His existence. His voice was tranquil. He knew my name before even looking at me. My heart was quickly at rest.
The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet were they drawn swords. ~Psalms 55:21
His eyes astonished me the most. They were an amazing metallic blue. When He looked at me, I could feel Him looking into my soul. Yet, I was not afraid. An 8-year old doesn’t have much to hide, except maybe guilty feelings of teasing her little brother.
He was busy painting. It was then that I noticed He was painting humanity using His blood. Using His tears, the strokes would be lighter or darker. I could not bear to watch. He was painting mothers, fathers, children covered in blood, crying out in agony. I started to weep, but He told me to be strong and patient; things could change from one day to the next.
I knelt beside Him. “You are ready,” He said. He gave me His paintbrush and it turned into a quill. I haven’t stopped writing since that day. When I left the tent, I felt reassured: I knew my purpose, except I had no idea how to go home.
A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps. ~Proverbs 16:9
“Your parents are waiting,” He told me, “But your Father above knows where you’ve been and where you are going.” It has been 17 years since the dream, but remember it as if it was yesterday.
He showed me a corridor that would lead me home. It was a corridor filled with portraits and I have met every single person since then. They don’t just happen as déjà-vus; it’s as if I’ve met them before. Indeed I have and they all came at a time I needed guidance or reassurance.
At the end of the dream, my brother and our two friends meet each other again, but our senses have changed. We speak, listen and see much clearer. Four years ago, after my near-to-death experience, the four of us all found God again. The dream had reached full-circle.
The dream taught me numerous things:
- You may be young, but you can awaken at any time.
- It is on our stillest times, that we hear Him.
- Sometimes it’s best to go to your room, pray out aloud and wait. Wait till it all makes sense. It eventually will. Your subconscious will communicate with you via your dreams.
- I’m a journalist that types with one finger. People laugh at me all the time about it. It’s okay, I received that gifted finger when I was 8 years old.
- There is God’s peace in anxious times, God’s love in heartbroken times and God’s hope in uncertain times.
- Dare to dream about peace, love and destiny…