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.
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.
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?