Do you have times in your life that “themes” seem to appear? Times when unassuming,seemingly meaningless, unimportant, even silly topics keep coming up in conversations or things youʼre reading? That has been happening to me recently. The reoccurring subject is dreams.
Odd things, dreams. Lots of times they donʼt appear to make sense. Lots of times they donʼt. But whole theories of psychology have been built around dreams and the symbolism they possibly hold. Iʼve gone through phases when Iʼve had a series of dreams centered on shoes or houses, and meeting deadlines. Being nude in public places is a common dream, as is flying. Some dreams evaporate upon our waking while others feel so significant they stay with us for years, even a lifetime.
In 1970, while working as a social worker in a prison, just out of undergraduate school, I had a dream that may have had influence upon a decision that has affected the rest of my life.
As is often the case, this dream had no beginning; it merely began. I saw a long broad hallway. On one side were white marble walls; on the other French doors one after another. On the marbled walls, huge mirrors with gilded gold ornate frames were flanked by matching gold candle sconces; candles lit. Just like those French doors, the pattern of mirrors and candles was repeated over and over. Under each mirror were glass hall tables with gold gilded frames. The floors were white marble; the ceilings pure white with plastered crown molding and equally spaced enormous gold gilded chandeliers lit with multiple candles.
Suddenly, out of an adjoining hallway, two figures appeared; one short and balding – I didnʼt not recognize this man. The other was definitely me! Both were dressed in white robes with gold brocade shoulder sashes. The much older and shorter man had a wreath of gold leaves on his head. We walked together down the above-described corridor in silence. Soon we came to a corner, needing to turn left, and the identical hallway continued, but as we turned, I bumped into one of the glass tables. It shattered! A piece of glass shard imbedded in my forehead and turned into a multi-faceted “third eye.” Of course I jumped in shock but fel t no pain nor discomfort at all. Still, no words were spoken, no sound made. The other man just raised one hand shaking the incident off and we continued our walk.
That was it. Somehow I knew there was a significant message woven into the mystery of this dream.
A few short months later seeds planted when I was very young, and more recently watered by our home minister, began to sprout and I made the decision to go to seminary. By the way, the identity of the other man in my dream later was revealed to me. He was Herald B. Monroe, then Regional Minister of our Ohio Region.
Am I making too much of this? You decide. Just let me remind you of the importance placed upon dreams in scripture…
Keep dreaming my friends.