Thursday, July 19, 2012

Read My Dream

Another lazy Sunday afternoon. And I decided to take a nap, after all, I was cold, tired and had little to do.

I lay face down on the bed, sunlight peering through the window, but not really helping with the winter chills.

sleeping by a window

And I was asleep. I knew it. I had been here before. I could feel the pillow beneath me, I could feel my hands clenching the soft duvet under me. I never bothered to get under, I was too tired, and couldn’t do much about it now that I was out.

But now I wished I could wake up.

There is a sense of evil around me. Its closing in, it wants to devour me. I know it. I have been here before.

I struggle and struggle to open my eyes. But my body refuses to respond. I try to shake myself awake, but there’s no movement. I can still feel the bed beneath me, but I am powerless; at the mercy of this horrid dream.

I must focus, keep fighting, I know it, I have been here before. Push through, fight, don’t give up!

I’m awake!

Everything around me is so familiar, but I have not been here before. I’m in my apartment, its quite high up, and next to me is a person. I know him. I don’t know his name. I thought I knew him, but slowly he reveals himself. He has a wicked scheme. He’s about to do something bad. I must catch him before he goes through with it.

But he’s gone, out the building and into the park beneath in a flash. I chase him, the elevator isn’t working so I slide down something which resembles a fire escape into the park below.

My friends are all there.

Now this man I’m chasing reveals himself. His wicked plan. Its horrible. He must be stopped.

But he mockingly turns around. Picks up a handful of swords and tosses them at us while laughing and shouts, “Come and challenge me!”

pile of swords

By now I have realised that he is far too powerful for me or my friends. We are weak, powerless, and will be crushed. I look at my sword, the one he threw at me, and realise that it is useless against this evil.

Then I remember a sword. The only sword which could slay this man. To my shame it is not in my hand.

“Hurry! Who has the sword of the spirit!” I shout. My friends look confused, “Its the only weapon that will work!”. Then I hear a voice, a friend shouts back, “I have it!”. So I run over and take a look.

At first I am relieved, I see an inscription on the sword. It looks like that verse. “Now we can fight”, I think, “but let me check one more time”. I look down at the inscription more carefully this time. Oh, it looks like that verse, but its not. It was a trick, just a jumble of useless words.

Downcast and frustrated, I sigh. “This is not it”.

Then I woke up.

For real.

(Ephesians 6:17; Hebrews 4:12-13)

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