My memories of a dream January 27, 2015
I had a dream, or I think I had a dream. Just as I was waking in the morning the dream began. I have had many dreams before that began near the time I woke but they always faded out of my memory very quickly. This one is as clear now as the moment I awoke from it.
It was dim, not dark like night. There was a hill and at the top was a cross with Jesus on it. Mary the mother of Jesus and John the apostle were near it (I don’t know how I knew it was Mary and John but I had no doubt) and a few unknown others were nearby. There was sorrow, terrible sorrow, sorrow so profound that it had body. As I approached the cross the overwhelming sorrow grew even more intense. I could feel it brushing against me like rain but it wasn’t wet. It permeated everything.
Silence abounded. There was no talking, no whispering, no crying, nothing. No bird sang and no animal moved. No breeze rustled a leaf. Even Jesus made no sound. It could have been an incredible sculpture but it was real. The people were real and alive.
As I moved closer to the cross the sorrow became so intense I began to fear for my life.
I was next to it now and with my eyes downcast, I reached out and touched it.
The sorrow lightened ever so slightly. The dim light grew a bit brighter. I looked up and saw some spots of light approaching. As they drew nearer I could see that they were the faces of people and the sorrow waned more and the light grew brighter yet. More people came and still more. They crowded around the cross. Then more came. Soon there were people as far as I could see in every direction and all sense of sorrow had been displaced by joy.
Then I was awake, fully awake as if I had been up for an hour.