Dream (?)

[Spoomonkey]

I think I had a dream last night.

 

On July 18 my former pastor/boss passed away. I did not mourn as I had no reason to. He was in many ways an evil man who cared little for his staff or his people and cared much for who the top five givers were on any given Sunday.

 

I can remember him once telling me that he always knew who gave the most.

 

I’m still not sure why that is important in the scope of ministry. Even now – after having left the “faux-faith” behind – I still cannot fathom a person more concerned about the bottom line than the bottom tier. And given the chance to hurt – and hurt deeply – he did not flinch from the opportunity.

 

While I didn’t mourn, I did not celebrate either.

 

I take no pleasure in his death any more than I would take pleasure in the death of a dog hit by traffic.

 

And a month passed.

 

Last night I talked to him. As odd as it sounds even to me, I had a chance to simply talk to him. I didn’t think I even needed it, but in a way, I do feel free.

 

It could have been a dream. In all likelihood it was a dream. But there is a part of me that can’t help but think that maybe it was more.

 

I met him in a bright room, full of windows, that was in the church, but was not a part of the church that I knew. He asked me how I’d been and what I’d been doing for the past six years – and then he just listened. That was it. He didn’t argue with me, debate with me or even agree with me. He just listened.

 

I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t agree with some of my choices and some of my observations. I’ll admit – my “beliefs” are far less structured than they were before, far less dogmatic. And they really are simply homage to my conviction that “truth” is only that which is interesting at the time; and as such, “truth” for me is a hodgepodge of mythologies and practices which I find interesting. They span the earthy customs of Native America to the practical, yet magical application of Norse/Germanic runes – and many things in between.

 

I would hardly expect anyone to believe everything, right along with me, anymore than I would expect anyone to like every song that I do.

 

But I can’t get over him simply listening. He didn’t do that in life. Not that I experienced. He knew what he knew and was always ready to tell you. But in my dream, he listened.

 

At the end of the dream, it was time for him to leave. So he did. And with him, about a dozen people appeared from nowhere, knowing my name, and wishing me well.

 

As they left, I looked in a corner of the room and saw myself, tied to a chair and being tortured. “You need to stop,” my pastor said to my tormentor – a large man who I did not know, but seemed skilled in what he was doing. I looked at myself and we smiled together. Something had indeed come to a peaceful end.

 

I can’t help but wonder if this was a dream. After all, I hardly remember my dreams and when I do that are chaotic, jumping from scene to scene like something directed by Steven Soderbergh. This was lucid, together, fluid – with the only odd element (besides my tortured clone in the corner) being a sky full of helicopters* just outside the window. The rest was just peace and a chance to talk.

 

I didn’t yell or fume or have some sort of cathartic outburst. I just spoke, honestly, proudly, unashamed of who I am and where I’ve been.

 

I have to wonder if now, lost in an afterlife that he did not expect, if maybe this was a way of apology. Maybe it was just a posthumous bit of humility - a way to reach back and put back some things that he left in disarray.

 

And while I do not think that I will ever see this man as the great person his flock thinks he is, I do feel a strange sense of peace. A weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and – ahhh – I can breathe a little easier.

 

It may have been a dream. Then again, maybe not…

 

But in the end, the results are the same. My former pastor finally admitted, by his quiet listening, that I really do have something to say. Agree with it or not, that is really all I ever wanted from him.

 

Spoomonkey

*This is from a dream interpretation website and, while I don't give such websites a lot of credence, it certainly is very interesting considering some major things going on in my life right now. I add it just as an interesting aside and because it gives me hope that maybe I am in a brand new day: To see a helicopter in your dream, represents your ambition and achievements. You are in full pursuit of your goals.

[par4dcourse]

I'm no expert by any means, but I am a lucid dreamer and I strongly suspect this is what you experienced. You have controlled your concious emotions over this guy's death, but it simmered in your subconcious and finally bubbled back out in the form of a very realistic dream.

I have lucid dreams regularly, to the point of controlling the action and characters. My favorite option is flying, and I've seen the top of my house and my neighborhood from the air. I haven't, of course, left my bed. These very real feeling trips are compliments of that lump of gray in my noggin. After all, dreams and reality are both but neurons firing in the brain.