I was going off to college. I walked into my dorm room. It was pretty small, just a bed on one wall
and little kitchenette area with a small table on the other. I know.
For a dorm room even to have a kitchenette is pretty amazing. Other than that, I was appalled at its
condition. Exposed pipes
everywhere. One huge section of the
ceiling was completely ripped away, leaving bits of insulation hanging. That wonderful kitchenette area was filthy,
and roaches made themselves at home wherever you looked. But apparently I was happy just to be there. None of the mess seemed to matter to me.
Now I was the same age I am now, or maybe a
little older. Once I got settled in I
decided to take a little walk and see the sights around the dorm. To my surprise the first person I met was
Warren Martin. Before his death many
years ago, Warren had been a n extremely active member at Seaside, and was
beloved to many of the folks in the community.
Apparently he was a real go-to kind of guy in the dorm as well. We talked for a while, and during our
discussion we were interrupted. We both
whipped our heads around and … well, at that point I roused from my sleep,
shook my head in an unsuccessful attempt to clear out some cobwebs, changed my
sleeping position, and willed myself back to sleep, content in the knowledge that
I don’t really have to go through college all over again, especially at my age. I know.
That “willing myself back to sleep” doesn’t always work for me, either,
but this time it did. I figured at least
in some fresh new dream cycle me or Warren wouldn’t have to be old dudes.
To my surprise the dream began again. Same dorm.
Same terrible condition. Only
this time it got worse. Answering a knock
at the door, I opened it to reveal a housekeeping person. Didn’t know they had those at colleges. Sure didn’t at mine. She came in and set to work. Now Warren wasn’t around this time. Guess he managed to graduate or
something. Lucky guy. I went out into the hallway because for some
reason I was waiting for the ambulance to arrive with some paramedics. And it was for me, but I didn’t know exactly
what was wrong.
Before long I noticed that people were beginning
to congregate … in my room. How odd. Well, like anything can be “odd” in a dream,
right? I went back inside to see what everyone
thought they were doing. Sure enough the
room was crowded with people. Two large
tables had somehow been crammed into the space, and people were seated in wheelchairs
all around them. The housekeeper had
transformed into a cook, and she was over at the kitchenette preparing a meal
for everyone. I was horrified. How dare they invade my space? I may not have minded, but they didn’t even
ask. I stormed over to the housekeeper
cook and demanded to know what was going on. I was unable to continue my objections,
however, because I was called out in the hallway. Seems the paramedics had arrived and my
wheelchair awaited. I meekly surrendered
myself to them, collapsing into the chair.
The kindly paramedics informed me that I might want to grab a
long-sleeved shirt because it was chilly outside. I struggled to my feet. I had to go back to the room anyway because I
had forgotten my cane. Apparently I now
walked with a cane.
This time when I entered, a door opened at
the exact same time on the other side of the room. A tall, regal-looking young lady entered. A hush instantly fell over the room as
everyone looked first at me, then at her, then back again. Who was this woman? I certainly had no idea. I just knew she was in my room with all these
other uninvited guests. She quickly, and
quite rudely, introduced herself as the one in charge who had admitted everyone
into the room, and she, in no uncertain terms let me know that I was in some
serious trouble for locking the door. Wait.
What? It was my room. How could I be in trouble? Apparently the guy before me had signed an
agreement allowing all meals to be held in this room. Well, I had signed no such agreement, but a
sit stood, I had no choice in the matter because, in her words, “this was the
biggest and best room in the whole dorm.”
And she added, “That’s the price you pay for such opulence.” Opulence.
Who even uses that word? I haven’t
even seen that one in a crossword puzzle in a while. I was furious. But apparently whatever it was that ailed me
took precedence over my desire for justice.
I grabbed my cane and stormed out the door. And yes, I forgot my long sleeved shirt. Yes, it was chilly when I got back into the now
pitch-black hall. But it really didn’t matter. Because out in the hall all I could see was a
glowing light. And as I got closer to
that light I began to realize that it was actually a series of lights. And the lights made up a figure. No, three separate figures. The figures were … numbers. And the numbers were … 5:55. And … I was awake, staring at the clock. Out from under the covers.
Sigh.
May as well get up. Big day
today. Frying ten or twelve
turkeys. What do dreams mean, anyway?
Acts 2:17 says, “’In the last days,’ God says, ‘I will pour out my Spirit on all
people. Your sons and daughters will
prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.’”
Father, I know my silly dreams are nowhere
close to what you promise to bring, but thank you for random, goofy dreams,
both when I’m asleep and when I’m awake.
They make life interesting … and fun.
But thanks for reality, too. The
one where you are. Feels much safer
there. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment