Did Jesus have nightmares, too?

 

Dear Dad

 

Last night

I had a nightmare

I was being crucified

And I saw a Pharisee

Sitting at the foot

Of the Cross

 

He was curled up

And shaking

And sobbing

Like he was so sad

But he didn’t even know

What to do

And he didn’t know how

To get any help

 

And I was yelling at him

And telling him

That I was here for him

Just for him

Being crucified

So he could be free

So he could have help

So he could just

Stop his crying

Because I love him

I love him

I love him so much, Dad

 

But he wasn’t listening to Me

It was like there was a wall

Between Me and him

And he couldn’t hear Me

 

And I was dying

On that cross

And, just right then

In that second

Because the Pharisee

Just kept crying

While I shouted

And told him he was

Being ridiculous

He made it seem

(Although it’s not true

But he kept on

Telling himself he was nothing)

Like I was dying

For nothing.

 

Emilino

Picture courtesy twbowes.blogspot.com

Peace

I haven’t posted anything new in a pretty long time… things are busy, for me, and to be honest, I haven’t had much inspiration for something new to write in a while. In fact, I’ve hardly been able to write in my diary at all for the past few days… it’s like nothing’s really been happening too much. Of course, I know things have been happening, but everything seems kind of null.

School is hard. That nightmare I had has been haunting me.

Of course, no computers at my school have blown up yet. I’m not paranoid at school, per say, but every time I think of that dream I feel incredibly lonely. Incredible darkness. Just that feeling, of walking in to my English class, and everyone was dead. The dream wasn’t bloody or anything, which is good (my deepest fear is of injuries; I persistently fail to understand our society’s love of repulsively gory things, such as horror movies and haunted houses). I didn’t actually see in detail any corpses. I walked into the classroom and the floor was all covered in computer parts and desks and I just knew everyone was dead. It was an extremely emotional dream, to an extent I’ve never had before. I was completely overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, loneliness, and, maybe above all, I felt hopeless and helpless.

It was just a dream. But it was extremely realistic. It was so realistic that I was surprised to wake up. Even after I opened my eyes, I was confused to find myself in bed.

Another part of the dream I don’t think I’ve mentioned is that my mom kept crying, but she wasn’t trying to console me. Mainly, I was trying to console her. I’d been there when the school blew up, but for some reason, I could handle it better than my mother could. We came home, and she broke down, and I couldn’t cry for the choking loss brewing in my throat. After a while, Mom got in her car and drove away, and I went outside and sat there staring at the rocks in my front yard and telling myself it was real, it wasn’t a dream, I wouldn’t be saved – even though that wasn’t true, that it was a dream.

That’s when my friend’s mom came.

dreams and wishes. 62/365

Image by nicole.pierce.photography ♥ via Flickr

Sorry if I’m rambling uselessly about this dream. But I need somewhere to put it all away.

In some ways, the dream has changed my view of peace. The only way I am freed from the loneliness of the memory of that dream is by running to Jesus. The dream was lonely, but it was also chaotic. Not “chaotic” like “crazy,” but chaotic like… it’s hard to describe perfectly. Maybe I mean chaotic like an inward struggle to stay composed. Chaotic like everything was completely wrong. Chaotic like the world was turned upside-down, and nothing was where it was supposed to be. You know what I mean? The sad, sad, sad kind of chaos.

Thinking of the nightmare just makes me want to die. How am I supposed to be free of that? Only God can help me.

I wonder how non-Christians deal with that kind of heavy loneliness. What do you guys do? I mean, if I weren’t a Christian, I’d have killed myself long ago. And yeah, that seems sort of over-the-top, since I’m still just a little girl, but it’s true.

But yeah. Since that dream, I think I’ve fully realized the power of peace. The indescribable feeling of relief that comes with peace. Like when I run to God, the war is still going on, but I know I’m going to win. Because the Creator of everything in existence is right here, holding me in His arms. That’s the most beautiful thing I can ever imagine.

Psalm 27:1

The LORD [is] my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD [is] the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

dramatic dream

 

Emilino

 

Pictures courtesy:

michaeltotten.com

learnoutlive.com

flickr.com

Nightmare

Last night I dreamed that I was in English class, and my friend and I were having a discussion about Christianity, and no one was taking us seriously.  Then, at break, my History teacher started dancing and singing Friday, before returning to his classroom.

Later, I met two of my friends and we were hanging out in the bathroom, when something happened.  I’m not sure; either they went silent or they left, and I got this odd, sickening feeling that something was horribly wrong.

So, I went back to my English class, and everyone was dead. All around me.  And I had no idea why.

Then my mom came and told me all the computers in the school had crashed and exploded, and fallen on everyone and killed them.  And I was the only one conscious, if not alive, left.

I’ll never forget that feeling, even if it was only a nightmare.  It was the feeling, deep inside me, of complete and utter aloneness.

Mom and I went home, and she kept breaking down crying, and I was just trying to make sense of it all.  I prayed, “God, I pray for strength, I pray for endurance…” the rest of the prayer escapes my memory.

I went outside, and for some reason, my best friend’s mom was in her van, just driving away from our house.  I reached out my hand, so she would stop.  She saw me, but didn’t stop, just kept going, leaving me behind, while I kept thinking how lucky everyone at my old homeschool co-op was, that nothing like this had happened at their school.

Then I woke up, gasping.

I still remember it too clearly.  That was the worst, worst, worst nightmare I have ever had.  It felt demonic.  While I dreamt, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t a dream, that it was real, real, real, and there was no escaping.  When I woke up, I was literally surprised that I had been sleeping.  It was a realistic dream; and I’ve had plenty of those, mainly nightmares — but this one was particularly disturbing.

I’m going back to school tomorrow, and I am scared to death just because of that nightmare.  The creepiest part of it, perhaps, was the fact that the beginning of the dream was a relatively normal, perhaps more enjoyable than usual, day of school.  And when I least expected it, everything went wrong.  Everyone died.  And only I was left.  And that feeling I had, standing in the ladies’ room, knowing, even then, that I was alone.

It’s strange, the things that come of our thoughts.  I don’t know where that nightmare came from.

I don’t know if that dream had a purpose. A metaphor, perhaps, for real life. I’ll probably be paranoid for the rest of the year. Was God trying to talk to me? Was that Satan, who created the nightmare, to scare me?

Remembering it shakes me to the core. The only way I can be comforted in the memory of that dream (and I am completely, completely serious right now) is by remembering the gracious, loving arms of God. In a way, such an overwhelmingly horrible vision brings me right to God’s side, because He’s the only thing I can think of to run to. He’ll take me in his big loving arms and He’ll never let me go, and He’ll tell me it’s gonna be OK; He’s got me.

He’s so beautiful.

Of course darkness flees at the sound of His name.

He is my Savior.

I’ll run into His arms.

You are good, You are good

When there’s nothing good in me
You are love, You are love
On display for all to see
You are light, You are light
When the darkness closes in
You are hope, You are hope
You have covered all my sin

You are peace, You are peace
When my fear is crippling
You are true, You are true
Even in my wandering
You are joy, You are joy
You’re the reason that I sing
You are life, You are life,
In You death has lost its sting

Oh, I’m running to Your arms,
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

You are more, You are more
Than my words will ever say
You are Lord, You are Lord
All creation will proclaim
You are here, You are here
In Your presence I’m made whole
You are God, You are God
Of all else I’m letting go

Oh, I’m running to Your arms
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

My heart will sing
no other Name
Jesus, Jesus

Oh, I’m running to Your arms
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

~Hillsong

 

Emilino

Pictures courtesy laperm.wordpress.com and aliveinthefire.blogspot.com

Song: Forever Reign by Hillsong

The intimidation of the present.

These days, I constantly freak myself out by thinking – maybe this, right now, is all that exists, is really all the time I spend, and anything else is merely an idea, a dream, an illusion; unreal.

I’m serious. Haven’t you ever had those moments when you start to doubt time, reality, and memory?

Like, maybe your entire past never really happened, and you have no future. Maybe the chair you sit on, the air you breathe, everything in life is all an illusion. You’re just crazy – maybe the only person in existence. Maybe a crazy person. Maybe nobody you know is actually real.

And, perhaps most disturbing of all, maybe everyone around you, everyone you know, aren’t experiencing the present at the same time you are. Like, your present is right now, at this age and this year – but THEIR present is 60 years in the future, when all of “your” present has already happened long ago. Or, maybe they’ve already died; and yet here they are, standing before you, alive and in their past. Or maybe they aren’t even born yet, don’t exist in their “present.”

I mean, it’s possible, right? A little strange, a little weird-sounding – but, really, God is eternal, right? God can experience everyone’s present at the same time.” That’s how I reason with myself at times. But at the same time, I know it’s a lie. But I feel doubt.

It’s a very eerie feeling I get when I contemplate that stuff. A very lonely feeling.

Sometimes, I know it’s a spiritual attack, when those thoughts pop into my mind and torment me. There’s no way I can know the answer to these dilemmas. I become doubtful of every single thing in existence.

At those times, it’s all I can do to plant myself firmly in the present, my present. I remind myself that God doesn’t change, ever, and He is not trapped in a time line like I am. Even if I feel doubtful of time, God doesn’t. God is forever.

So, I cling to Him desperately, avoiding the abyss of doubt, depression, fear, and anxiety. I cling to Him while time swirls all around me, moments passing in a hurricane; past gone and spent. I will not let go of my God, lest time crush me in its jaws until I die – then it is gone, and I have no one to save me.

“And you shall remember the LORD your God, for [it is] He who gives you power to get wealth, that He may establish His covenant which He swore to your fathers, as [it is] this day.” (Deuteronomy 8:18  NKJV)

 

Emilino

Painting “The Persistence of Memory” by Dali — this copy courtesy my-blackberry.net.