I have crazily intense dreams. I get them all the time. I’m talking about the dreams you get when you sleep, not aspirations (I have lots of those too). It’s strange what a big part of my life dreaming is. Most people forget their dreams after they wake, but with me they stick around for hours, days even.
Here’s an example. My novel Discovering Aberration was originally based upon a dream I had, and now that dream has been developing into the novel it is over the course of the last two years.
I want to keep an open record of these dreams. Below is the first one.
My latest dream was disturbing. Let me tell you about it.
The room I’m standing in is large, empty and I am in the center of it. Rows of empty pews. A pulpit without a speaker.
In my mind I know there’s a war raging outside. I see images of the bombs dropped from planes so high you cannot see them from the ground. The shriek as the fall, they scream, followed by a white tail in the sky. Four at a time pierce the roofs of buildings. The explosions come from within, then the buildings crumble down upon themselves.
And I am in an empty church with empty pews and an empty pulpit. I am in the center of this warzone screaming without end, waiting for the bombs to drop, to fall upon me. And so it happens.
The bombs burst through the ceiling, first one, then the second, third and fourth, but they don’t ignite. For a second I see them, each in a different corner of the room. They rest against support beams.
This is the moment. My heart begins to race and suddenly I am running, sprinting, racing for my life to leave this room and escape the inevitable decimation. Over pews I vault towards the door at the far end.
The bombs ignite.
From the foundation the church begins to crumble, the ceiling begins to fall, and as I run I can see it all crashing down behind me.
Through the door I burst and through a hall I scramble towards two glass doors which point to my freedom. But as I race, the ceilings fall, fall, fall around me. Debris in my wake, debris falling before me. I reach the first of the two doors and fling it open. The ceiling falls around me. I place my hand upon the second door, the outer door…
…but I am stopped. In one solid piece, the ceiling collapses and pins me to the ground. The glass of the door bursts into diamonds.
But I am alive. I am alone. I am pressed to the floor by thousands of pounds of pressure, and I cannot escape. So I wait.
A rescue party comes to survey the raised church. My friends and family, they know I was within, so frantically they search. Through the top of the rubble they find a whole and enter and within are a series of tunnels like a maze. One of the paths leads to me, but they do not know this. Still they search.
But the Devil seems to have other plans. He sends his spirits of the damned to hide amidst the darkness. The closer my saviors come, the denser the fog of evil spirits. Silent they hover and watch them and watch me. They don’t encroach, they don’t reach out, they don’t attack, but they make their presence known and will not allow a searcher to pass through their midst.
When I awoke, I was alone, pinned to the ground, listening to the distressed calls of the rescue party watching the devils while they watched me. And then the dream was no more.
Was there a meaning behind this dream?
Was there a message? When I woke I was in a panic, but I calmed myself and slowly went back to sleep. In the back of my mind I had this feeling like God was telling me, “Stay on your guard.”
Share your thoughts in the comments below?