Weird Dream #5150
Night before last, I had a weird dream. I have no idea what I dreamed about last night, or most nights. Even when a dream is worth remembering, I rarely think to record it. This one was 2 nights ago and is still popping into my head, so I'll blog it.
It starts with my dad picking me up to go do a job. Years ago, when he needed an extra back or set of hands, my father would recruit me under the guise of 'you need to learn a trade'. I'd usually be helping him move a house of furniture, "pulling mud", chiseling old tile, or lugging and sawing bricks. I'm grateful for the experience, but I never got anywhere near his level of expertise. I did, however, bust my knuckles up a bunch. Anyway, in this dream, I'm riding shotgun in his Suburban, wondering what physical act of endurance is in store.
The dream is set in the present. My dad, who turns 84 this year, doesn't always remember things as well as he once did. As we're riding down the road, he's trying to remember which turn to take to get to the job site. He's apparently worked a barter with someone and is doing the work in trade.
As we ride, I realize I'm now the one driving. He's trying to tell me to turn at what looks like an airport. We pull off the side of the road, into the grass, and pull up to a building. We go in and he walks off. I'm just standing, waiting for him to come back and tell me where to go.
At this point, I notice the double doors in front of me. I notice this because the doors open and a group of mostly young people come streaming through. In that group is a friend of mine from church.
At first, most of them seem younger and much smaller than me. I'm in work clothes; they're all dressed as if they're going out. One of them, as young men feeling their oats are wont to do, tries to get in my face and intimidate me. Being ignored, he moves on, but unease starts to settle on me.
I approach my church friend just as another set of double doors open to my left... nice, thick wooden doors, exposing what appears to be some sort of museum. Everyone moves into a walkway that seems to pass through the museum. The walkway is narrow and enclosed on both sides by what looks like glass or Plexiglas.
If not for the glass separating the walkway from the exhibits, it would almost look like the inside of someone's house. Just as I notice gaps in the sheets of glass, a cacophony of disembodied screams, screeching, moaning and assorted sounds of terror fill the air. Threats are screamed at us. They are coming from outside the glass. No one is out there.
I cover my ears and begin to pray. As I do, I notice my church friend doing the same. We plead to God in Jesus' name, and by His blood, to protect us from whatever demoniac threat we've just encountered. Quickly reaching the end of the glass-lined corridor, we walk through another set of doors and into some sort of narthex. Both of us exchange glances, seeming to acknowledge what we just encountered was evil.
The young lady who brought him there explains to us that this is a collection of artifacts associated with evil acts, demon possession, and wickedness, in general. Realizing I am unharmed, my curiosity getting the better of me, I ask if we could go through again. "It's only open for 2 minutes," she says. I look and the doors are closing. She explains that it's only open on certain days.
I wake up.
It starts with my dad picking me up to go do a job. Years ago, when he needed an extra back or set of hands, my father would recruit me under the guise of 'you need to learn a trade'. I'd usually be helping him move a house of furniture, "pulling mud", chiseling old tile, or lugging and sawing bricks. I'm grateful for the experience, but I never got anywhere near his level of expertise. I did, however, bust my knuckles up a bunch. Anyway, in this dream, I'm riding shotgun in his Suburban, wondering what physical act of endurance is in store.
The dream is set in the present. My dad, who turns 84 this year, doesn't always remember things as well as he once did. As we're riding down the road, he's trying to remember which turn to take to get to the job site. He's apparently worked a barter with someone and is doing the work in trade.
As we ride, I realize I'm now the one driving. He's trying to tell me to turn at what looks like an airport. We pull off the side of the road, into the grass, and pull up to a building. We go in and he walks off. I'm just standing, waiting for him to come back and tell me where to go.
At this point, I notice the double doors in front of me. I notice this because the doors open and a group of mostly young people come streaming through. In that group is a friend of mine from church.
At first, most of them seem younger and much smaller than me. I'm in work clothes; they're all dressed as if they're going out. One of them, as young men feeling their oats are wont to do, tries to get in my face and intimidate me. Being ignored, he moves on, but unease starts to settle on me.
I approach my church friend just as another set of double doors open to my left... nice, thick wooden doors, exposing what appears to be some sort of museum. Everyone moves into a walkway that seems to pass through the museum. The walkway is narrow and enclosed on both sides by what looks like glass or Plexiglas.
If not for the glass separating the walkway from the exhibits, it would almost look like the inside of someone's house. Just as I notice gaps in the sheets of glass, a cacophony of disembodied screams, screeching, moaning and assorted sounds of terror fill the air. Threats are screamed at us. They are coming from outside the glass. No one is out there.
I cover my ears and begin to pray. As I do, I notice my church friend doing the same. We plead to God in Jesus' name, and by His blood, to protect us from whatever demoniac threat we've just encountered. Quickly reaching the end of the glass-lined corridor, we walk through another set of doors and into some sort of narthex. Both of us exchange glances, seeming to acknowledge what we just encountered was evil.
The young lady who brought him there explains to us that this is a collection of artifacts associated with evil acts, demon possession, and wickedness, in general. Realizing I am unharmed, my curiosity getting the better of me, I ask if we could go through again. "It's only open for 2 minutes," she says. I look and the doors are closing. She explains that it's only open on certain days.
I wake up.
posted by Tonewah at 5:24 PM
<< Home