Dream a Little Dream of me

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The human mind is quite intricate, and shockingly multifaceted. I still remember that night, just as though it was yesterday; my dream of a supposed apocalypse, when I was only maybe nine, ten, or eleven. Of course, nowadays we no longer believe in this planet, or world, ending. Nevertheless, as I remembered this dream tonight, I couldn’t help but wish to document it just for the sake of it.

In the dream, I am still a child living in Haiti, since though I was born in NY, I was raised in my family’s country Haiti. In the dream, I am at home sitting with everyone when the news comes along. In the U.S. news, the weather channel announces that meteors are headed for planet earth, and a countdown of several days is displayed on the screen. Everyone understandably starts to panic as time goes on.

I step outside on the balcony to look up, and in the skies, stars are visible. I go back inside, and then we all watch time run out in slow motion. Outside in the streets, people are so panicked that there are crowds of them walking around looking for shelter. We sit there as time flies, glued to the news. We step outside again, and I see balls of fire that seem to get closer, but still seem quite far.

And then, after several more hours, it happens: the meteors hit the earth everywhere, while everyone runs around, trying to find refuge. The most interesting aspect of this is that I don’t feel a thing. Seeing it is amazing, because I can see, in detail, the fire destroying everything, and taking beings in its path. Yet none of it touches me at all. It is almost as though I have stepped into a movie, with actors pretending it is the end of the world, while I simply walk around and observe, like a director inspecting a scene.

Of course, unlike a director, I am terrified. As everyone shuffles around, my family tells me that they have found the solution. Apparently, the word is that homes that are marked of the blood of Christ/lamb are to be saved, as the meteors cannot destroy anything that belongs to Christ. In the dream, I think: must be superstition.. It’s over! But my family insists as we keep looking. The arduous task is to find such a home, and one which also accepts others into their homes. So we join the crowds outside as we search and search, then to our surprise, we see the bloody mark on the broken down door of a poor person.

That is when I wake up from my dream.

It was such an amazing experience to have this dream, such an experience that I still remember it vividly close to twenty years later, and especially because it had seemed so real that I could’ve believed this was truly happening. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized, this dream was perhaps not speaking of a literal end to this world, but that spiritually there was so much going on in the world that was perhaps not seen by most. Looking back at this dream, I feel the lesson was to look for God’s light within, not without, and not in the things of this world. It made me wonder about the blood of Christ, and what it truly meant to have your door marked of it. What is the difference between living life with it or without it?

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