Stuff of Dreams...Strange Stuff

I saw somebody on another blog post a dream she had, so I thought I'd follow her example--since I haven't had anything interesting to say for a while.
Dreams are strange and interesting. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I actually dreamed.
Or perhaps it is that this morning, for the first time in a long time, I actually remember what I dreamed.

So I'll type it all up before I forget it, that everyone may see what strange things go on in my head while I'm sleeping.

 I dreamed about murder.

I was in a large park, with brilliantly green grass as far as eye could see, except where it was darkened by the shadows of luxurious oaks and firs. Everywhere
people were walking in period dress (I'm not exactly sure what period, but I think roughly Jane Austen), and all seemed lovely and at peace--
but there was an evil presence. An unknown sniper was blowing poison darts at these lovely people (always while their backs were turned), and I could
see large, dark blots appearing on their backs (not always necessarily where the dart had hit), that would grow larger and trickle down in streams of blood
before the people would fall in an agony of contortions and die with foam on their lips. The scene changed to that of a man, a father, on his deathbed.
As his adult children (and I) watched, his eyes rolled up in his head, and the same white foam spilled out of them and from his open mouth. It was horrifying,
and a mystery, because we didn't know who had done it. Somehow the dream progressed, and we found that two of his younger children, who were twins, seemed
to be not as ignorant about the matter as the rest of us--but they weren't speaking. The next thing I remember is a dark room at night. I think I was there with some of the dead man's children, and I said to them, "Maybe we should talk to the twins. I think they know more than most people." (By this I don't think I meant
mere cognisance of the secret behind the mystery...rather I think I felt they were somewhat clairvoyant.) The next moment, the twins were mewing at the door, so I let
them in. The twins were now a pair of charcoal-grey tabby kittens, whose mother was under the bed. I held them for a while, but they wanted to get away to nurse with their brothers and sisters. While they were nursing and purring, I said: "Yes, these twins know more than the others; you see, their siblings think they're just nursing--but the twins know it's really pate de foie gras." I'm sorry, that's just weird. Afterwards, the kitten twins were singing in very cute gender-neutral child voices. Disturbing.

After this, I dreamed about two fiber-optic chameleon spiders that were out to get me. Actually, they were neither fiber-optic nor chameleon--nor even spiders, except originally; but the combination of ideas is the best I can do to describe them. When I first saw them crawling in the bathroom sink, they looked like miniature tarantulas. One had yellowish fuzz on its head and abdomen,and the other red. I wanted to squish them immediately, but my feet were naked, and I couldn't find any weapon with which to squish them before they crawled out of the sink and onto the floor. This was an unwelcome development. Here they could get at my feet. I think one of them did, because I suddenly had a swollen growth on the smallest toe of
my right foot. As I watched, these spiders (which had now morphed into long, thin beetles--though they were still spiders, of course) changed color. One was a pale blue with a yellow head and a red wavy stripe down its back, the other yellow with a pale blue head and a black stripe...but the spiders changed color slowly, continually, as though they were fiber-optic. Their backs and heads would fade from yellow to blue to yellow, and the stripes changed color, too--although I never saw them change color, I knew they did. I made a move toward the spiders to frighten them, and one climbed onto some pipes and changed into a brown chameleon color (this one looked like a spider again). However, on the floor remained now two spiders, who were making runs at my bare feet. Placing one hand on the wall and the other on the bathroom counter, I lifted myself off the floor-- but I knew I couldn't
stay that way for long....Presently my mother happened by, and asked what I was doing. I told her about the spiders, and their fascinating way of changing color. She asked me why I didn't just squish them.

I think I woke up then, because I don't remember anything more.

I laughingly challenge anyone to interpret these.

Time

Waking up
Fumble at the cup
Blind lips breathing steam
Breaking dream

Creaking stairs
Musical as chairs
Worry deepens dim
Thinking him

Brown and gold
Tangles catch and hold
Stare into my eyes
Dark as lies

Scratching thought
Earned and borne and bought
Silent flows the sand
Moves the hand

Rise again
Laying down the pen
Burying the face
To erase

Memory
Drawing close to me
Closer than I dared
Unprepared

Sweetest bliss
This and this and this
Never once again
Now and then

Fly the deep
Boundary of sleep
Dream is all I had
Bitter-sad

Leaving more
Passing out the door
Fearing now that I’m
Out of time

Cover up
Emptier than cup
Bittersweetest friend
Make an end

Newcome faith
Breaking on a wraith
Dips into a spin
Out and in

Somewhere near
Far away from here
It might be arranged
Something changed

Come again
I can’t tell you when
Hours, days, or years
Blessings, fears

Cast-down glove
I could face your love
And with greater grace
Love your face

Pounding head
Calls me from my bed
Spreading through my feet
Rhythm beat

Dim routine
Travel where I’ve been
Sun, moon, sun, moon, sun
Over, done

Give it sway
Let it have its way
Turning day to night
Gray to white

Flying fast
Try to make it last
Wishing it would dress
Measureless

Family

I love them. Mine, that is. All of them. I just wanted them to know that. It's a feeling, it's a sense of safety and comfort and gratitude and just wanting them to be happy. It's a fact. Thanks to everyone. I love you all.

Prophecies Self-fulfilled

Depression is a progressive disease with results that are more far-reaching and long-lasting than one would expect. When you hate yourself, you start thinking everyone must hate you. When you think that way, you react defensively, treating them as your enemies. Those who are treated as enemies for long enough will likely become what they are perceived to be. A self-fulfilling prophecy, a damaging disease. It wastes away love...even if the ties are strong enough to survive, they survive wounded and confused. They never meant to be the enemy. They can't understand why you're running away, why you're keeping them at a distance, why you're so angry at the smallest things. I don't know anymore who I was or am or how to be who I should be. I don't know if I ever knew. I'm the child who never grew up, only halfway grew up--and each half doesn't know what to do with the other.

She's lost, again and again.

Dear God, alone saving, give strength to the weakest, wisdom to the blindest of fools. I don't know where to go but You, and I'm forever fleeing my only refuge. I think I'm afraid I won't hear You if I listen, or I won't obey You if I hear. I think I'm just afraid, always. Of everything. Help me to be afraid of nothing, no one but You.

Reconcile me. To You, to everyone.

Do I believe You will? If that's what is meant by amen...

I know all Your prophecies are self-fulfilled. Amen.

Pledge

I pledge allegiance today...
To God above country,
Joy above sorrow,
Continence above indulgence,
Prudence above thoughtlessness,
Humility above arrogance,
Work above idleness,
Purpose above aimlessness,
Firmness above irresolution,
Courage above fear,
Freedom above slavery,
Law above freedom,
Duty above law,
Love above duty.

Allegiance

Happy Independence Day! For love of and gratitude for our country-- or for a good excuse to make noise, throw parties, get drunk, and play with fire in the dark, we declare today a holiday. We'll sing America the Beautiful and pledge allegiance to the flag. Maybe. Or maybe we'll just make noise, get drunk, and watch the colored lights when the sun goes down. As for me, I'll probably do nothing. Other than watching the pyrotechnics tonight with some friends and family...maybe, I'll just be staying home today with my gratitude and allegiance. My brother doesn't agree with the pledge. He thinks it is an insidious implication of idolatry of one's country or flag above all other obligations--specifically, above God. I tend to agree with his fiancee, that it is merely a statement of loyalty to one's country as opposed to loyalty to other countries or to the enemies of one's country, or as opposed to professed hatred of one's country whilst living in it and enjoying its privileges. As far as allegiance goes, no one is assuming that it means to subject oneself to be obedient to one's country above all other things, mindlessly pledging oneself to follow come what may-- else who even among the patriots would whisper that pledge? We all have our allegiances. Some pledge allegiance to family, some to self and character, some to the service of suffering humanity, some to wealth and pleasure, some to God, some to something different every year. As for me, I don't think enough about where my loyalties lie...so I'll ask you. What's your allegiance?

This morning: I read it, and down to my soul I was troubled. Every instance, everything I could not answer, weighed heavily upon me. Not a smile, this morning. I sought the comfort of work. Put my hands to a task. Try to keep my mind on my--

It's physical, this trouble. But it's something preventable, not like the last. Does it truly rest on my shoulders--will everything rest upon whether I make the right decision? Is it possible for me to make the right decision? Everywhere I turn I see nothing but trouble, trouble, and more trouble. Nothing I do is or can be the right thing. I feel somehow, though I'm sure I feel wrongly, that this is something I control. Something that is mine to answer, and no other can help me. Not like the last...

The last...there was nothing I could do. My heart was heavy, someone was dying, there was nothing I could do. I found my thoughts on this in an old notebook:

I try to keep my mind on my work. I must do this;it must be done now, or it may never be done. Something is coming that has been coming for a long time, something that will change many things, perhaps even me. I feel the weight of my heart, pulling me to my knees. Ah, but I cannot weep now; I must finish my work. Hands gripping the broom, my eyes follow the dust I sweep from every corner. Would that I could sweep the dust from my faith as easily! Comfort is found in exertion, in putting things in order. A grey veil settles on my mind, a shelter against the inevitable thoughts that would torment my waiting. Peace. Sorrow will come soon enough. The telephone rings--the expected clamor still an assault on my fragile calm. The words come; I hear and answer, surprised by my composure. Everything is quiet, my heart pulsing in a universe of its own. I hear nothing more clearly than my own blood. The thing has come; now I must go to face it. I place the telephone gently on the receiver. I make myself ready. Physically, all is in order. Eyes still open, I extract a prayer from my benumbed soul. It seems dead, a portent for the day's outcome...

I am home again. I did grieve, when the moment came. We all did. The room was rife with sorrow. What of this moment? I am dry and dead...

I pace into my chamber. The service is over; I had no tears. I lie down with my weighty grief, turn my face into my pillow. Now it comes--a prayer falls, with tears. Sobs twist me, crumble me. It's over--it lasted such a short time. This will, indeed, change many things. Will anything change me?

Now, I have forgotten all but this: I try to keep my mind on my work.

There's glory in these fingertips
Not mine, not for my own
There's power in the fear that grips
My mind when I'm alone
There's wisdom in the soul that bares
Its horror to the cross
There's honor in the flesh that wears
Humility and loss
There's holiness in ordinate
Supremacy of God
To hate the insubordinate
Yet rescue them with blood
To love the insubordinate
And rescue them with blood

A Purpose for Everything

What's yours? What's mine? If I told you what I think it is, would you believe me? If I told you that I felt if I actually told you what I believe it is, I would merely be reciting catechism--would you be horrified? It feels like hypocrisy, and yet I don't doubt its truth. Neither do I doubt the truth of what I believe--yet because of my hypocrisy, I doubt whether I truly believe it.

What does it mean to glorify God? I know what it certainly doesn't mean--to seek my own comfort and glory, to seek to put to rest all misgivings about the way I live my sorry life. It doesn't mean to be fearful of every change, to see danger even in the mundane. It means a risk and a security. A laying down of one's life for God's service, and a knowledge that even should one perish, that life is secure in His keeping, and no conceivable power can snatch it away.

It means a daily sacrifice of all that I want to all that He asks. It means a discipline of my entire self to be subject and devoted to the Lord of glory. It means perfect slavery and perfect freedom. It means glorious defeat and eternal victory. It means I am nothing and He is all.

It means...I'm choking on my pride. Defeated by my raging desires. Glory to me! I will rule!

...For what purpose? My flesh has no answer to that.