Storms rock. There's the sunshine afterward to look forward to.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Nightmare
I don't know what I should think. Ever since I adopted my 'stay happy with life' personality, I have never had a nightmare since. Until, well, last night. And I have all these speculations on what they stemmed from. My first exposure to Edgar Allan Poe in Lit class. My inborne fears, or my inner feelings. My imagination finally drawing a permutation of thoughts from my head, that when combined together, make a pretty scary dream. But the more I think about it, I think that there's a deeper reason to it.
I think the dream's a warning.
Yes, you read right. I do believe that sometimes God gives us dreams that have meaning, especially if they're so incredibly detailed and vivid as like last night.
The details leading to the terrifying climax, I do not remember. What I do remember, is this:
"You'll have to die," the receptionist in white said, but not cruelly, actually, almost pitifully, to my two parents."No!" I screamed my protests amidst tears. "Don't take them from me!"The details from then are a blur. What I was conscious of, however, was the fact that I was stupidly trying to stop the receptionist from taking my parents away. I do remember flailing my arms, to meet nothing but air with every swing. But somehow, I knew. Despite the fact that I was outpowered by the receptionist with the shining bright clothes, had I made the demand to return my parents back, she would have, without hesitation.I opened my mouth to ask for my parents. But my parents, as if they had read their only son's (only son? I'm not an only son! And yet, it fit somehow, and my mind accepted it) mind, immediately reacted, and my father restrained me, hugging me tightly with one arm while covering my mouth with the other, all the while I could feel the tears streaming down his face and mine."No, son, you mustn't!" my father interjected softly. "You mustn't!""But Dad! They'll take you and Mum away!"My mother said something I could not hear. My father turned to look at her and give her a gentle silencing look, while repeating her name pacifyingly.The name of my mother shocked the bejabbers out of the part of myself that was still mine, conscious to the fact it was a dream. My 'mother's' name was not my real mother's name. Rather, it was the name of a girl I know, here in reality. I then pondered for a split second with my self that was in reality, 'Then, who am I?'I got shook back into the dream by my 'father'. He looked at me with those eyes, oh so familiar eyes, and spoke with a soft voice that pierced through my wailing."Remember, son, when it comes to the choice between God and ******(my 'mother's' name), remember what you must choose."And I knew the answer. Of course I did. My real parents brought me up the Christian way. I knew the answer. Family's important, but God first. In everything. I knew the correct answer. But I didn't want to answer it. My father must have sensed my reluctance."Matthew!" I felt a subtle change in the atmosphere, but I couldn't tell what it was. It was the first time during the dream I actually heard my name specifically. "Matthew! What will you choose?" And I could sense, my father, he was afraid. More afraid then I had ever known him. (But had I known him? He wasn't my real father. Or was he?) And at that point, I knew what I must choose."God," I sobbed, being hardly able to get His name out of my mouth, as fast as the tears were flowing. And my father, with a satisfied aura, released me, and he and my mother (??) walked through a twisting vortex at the back of the room, beckoned there by that receptionist with the too-bright clothes, and disappeared. And I screamed, and cried, and screamed...And woke up, half through a scream. Luckily, I did not wake up my roomie. I gathered a few frightened breaths, and sat there thinking. Of all the possible meanings of the dream.
It could have been that I saw, to some extent, my own future, or at least one I had fantasized about. Could I in the dream have been my own son? I realised that through the dream, although I was the son, I sometimes was also able to see from my 'father's' persepctive. Does that strengthen the fact that I was seeing my own son? But what had my father said to my mother with the name I knew that was not my mother's name? Why that name? What does the future hold for me and that person?
Whatever the detailed meaning of the dream, two things were sure for me. One, I would soon get caught up in a trial the likes of which I have never faced before. I would fight and fight and fight, for both myself as well as for others. Two, I would never succeed. The fight would stretch on and on, and it wouldn't matter so much if I failed the trial, but my faith would be shaken. In the trial, I would be faced with a choice. A difficult one. One that would change my life forever. And no matter what, I would have to go against my earthly selfish self and choose God. And that would take a lot of will I would not have, not unless God himself helped me.
And so it was, in the early morning, before and after my roomie woke up, that I sat on the bed, paced across the small room, paced along the corridors of the 7th floor, praying. With all my might. What else could I do?
