Friday, April 27, 2007
an odd dream... in story form... i dreampt this at least a month before its original post.
We felt like we were dumped here by some cosmic hand. Hungry and helpless, we didn't know where we were. There was, however, an odd feeling of contentment, for though this may be our new prison, far worse prisons we had seen.
We resolved ourselves to try to accustom to this land of desert dirt, tables, stoves, and skillets. Our hunger took control and eating was our first priority. Some moaned our sorry state as seeds rained down upon us. The seeds were fairly large (about the size of sunflower seeds) and didn't hurt when they rained down; it was a similar feeling to that of an itch being scratched all over.
Those that had chosen to moan moaned even louder as the seeds came, because the seeds would only continue to pelt and harass them. Upon closer inspection of the seeds, I devised a plan. As far as I could tell, those seeds looked much like the stuff that fell from the sky in the book of Exodus. These seeds were larger… and had a hard shell, but nonetheless, this gave me an idea. I looked at one of the tables and found a small metal nutcracker that I was sure hadn't been there before. Taking it into my hand, I held the seeds between the two crushing sides and soon had cracked open a substantial amount of seeds. I took the end of the nutcracker and began crushing the seeds into a moist powder. As I molded this new stuff into a cake shape, I tried to remember how it was long after they received this blessing that they started to complain again. I prayed a silent prayer that I would not have to be in this unknown land for forty more years on account of the complaints of others.
In the same fashion that I had found the metal nutcracker, I found a can of Pam cooking spray and a container of Canola oil. I sprayed the Pam into the skillet and started to fry our manna. After I had given the first cake to the person sitting closest to me at the table, I decided the next one would be for me to eat.
I began frying my manna-cake and got distracted by the canola oil. I wasn't sure if I'd sprayed Pam into the skillet, or if I'd poured Canola oil into it. This preoccupied me so much (the thought of accidentally mixing the two oils together) that by the time I gave my attention back to the frying of the manna, I realized that I had burned it.
Just then, I heard a loud noise, though I wasn't sure what it was. I looked the way of it, and saw someone who was obviously accustomed to the desert, coming toward me.
"Rescuers!" I thought, "They'll know the way out of here!"
I started toward him, with a smile on my face. It was then I realized that he had no smile on his.
"That cake," he said, without a shred of kindness, "You know how to make it?"
"Yes…" I replied, "I could make one for you, if you'd like." Then, looking down at my burned cake: "I burned this one, though. I could make you your own. This one was going to be for me anyhow."
As I said this, he was flanked by a few (but considering the large amount already in our Israelite group, there were many) of his own men. I asked him how many of them there were. (I'd tried to count, but gave up trying because I didn't want to point and be rude.)
His response to my question was, "I don't know how many there are."
"Don't know?! Alright, I know what to do!" I said cheerily as I ran to the man on my farthest left and stood there, looking from him to the middle, where the dark man I'd been talking to stood, and then to the man on the farthest right, at the end of the line.
"This man will start the count off by saying 'One,' the next man will say 'Two,' and so on and so forth until I know how many there are for me to feed! Ready? And go!"
My enthusiasm was met by empty, nay, even angry, stares. I had just assumed that they could all speak my language as their leader had, and I had either been wrong to assume that or done some wrong in their eyes, because before I knew it, my people were being enslaved and I was being dressed in a dark blue ritual garment that flowed and had a long train-piece. The enemy took me and placed me upside-down on a wooden structure, hanging by ropes tied to my ankles. For a moment I tried to imagine what the Lord had gone through, when they nailed his hands to the cross. It was so real to me in that moment; I thought I saw my accusers nail me to the wooden boards.
This place had gone quickly from being a land of the unknown to being the place that God lived, and just as quickly as that had happened, it shifted again into being a place of torment and suffering. Perhaps then you will understand why my natural response was to remember that of my Lord's: "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" I cried out in as loud a voice as I could, pleading with the Lord to come and remember me. I knew that this place would be the place of my death if no one heard me.
As I began to lose my voice, I continued to cry out until my throat was raw. While I hung there by my feet, I saw a flash of orange under me… it looked like a housecat 1,000 times its normal speed. It stood and became a man. The long train-piece of the garment they had forced me to wear started at my neck and went down my back and behind me when I was on my feet. Since I was quite the opposite, the train-piece hung down to the ground from my neck, which was amazing because of how high up I was. The man began to climb the train, and though you would have thought he'd be a strain on my ankles, it was as if he weighed next to nothing. Somehow (though you can be assured, I have no clue as to how) he loosed me and set my back on the ground.
I now saw a cat that looked much like the one I had at home. It spoke to me without an audible voice and I trusted it wholeheartedly. It started to make very short dashes (short for it because it was so fast) that were difficult for me to keep up with. Since the dashes were so effortless, the cat would stop and wait for me while it cleaned itself. I found this rather amusing, and it almost made me laugh. The dark man's minions would often walk by, but the cat had told me to put my head down and lie very still wherever I was, and they'd not take me into account. I found this to be true once when I was slinking in a sort of aisle, on the very end of it, and the men came by. They were marching, and I was so close that I saw their shadows. They could have clearly seen me, had they been looking, but I surmise that they weren't a very observant people.
I passed though a building (the same that had the aisles in it) and saw my people in chains, kept in dark, dank places and, I suspected, just as hungry as they had been before this tragedy. I saw my friend; the first person I'd given a cake to, and his sister, whom he'd shared it with. They were behind a fence in the building, and I was separated from them. The cat was still dashing about, but I told it to wait as I tried to promise them that they'd be rescued. As I tried to console them, one of the dark man's guards heard me and realized I'd escaped. Soon the place was in frenzy as he tried to find a way around the fence and other men poured in from different directions.
I tried to run, but I still couldn't keep up with the cat. Out of breath and knowing that the men could catch up to me, I asked him without words if he could carry me. The cat immediately took me on its back, and we were on our way out. Ahead of me (in the same direction I'd seen the dark man come from) was what looked like a wall that had been boarded up with various crates. We barreled through it and landed safe on the other side.
We were now in a land very familiar to me, and just as sure that it was familiar, I knew that I'd never set foot in it before. It had well-formed rock formations like that of Utah, but I knew I was not there. I felt at home here… strangely at home. There was nothing eerie about this place; I only felt loveliness and security. There was music coming from everywhere: music I'd known all my life. And the people walking this land were all old friends that I'd known at one time or another. There was a sweet smell in the air; the smell of flowers on a warm, breezy spring day. The song that played now was, ironically, one that had been playing in my head as I rode the cat out of the dark land. I watched in amazement as my friends strolled by.
Just then, one of my friends looked up toward a rock formation with a look of disgust on her face.
"Ugh, who's playing this music? It's AWFUL!!!"
I'm not altogether sure why, but in that moment, my heart broke a little. She continued to walk, not seeing me, and I began to cry.
"Cat," I said, "Why do they do this? Why do they ridicule my heart's song?"
Cat looked up at me with a sad look in his eyes and said, "They don't know any better. They're caught up in themselves and don't see the harm it does to you."
We continued to walk in this land, which I now knew was the land of my heart. It felt everything I had ever felt in severe intensity. The joys were unspeakably wonderful; the sorrows insurmountable. I felt grateful to have the cat with me, for I knew I could not survive this land alone. We soon came to the house that my family had moved into in Cherry Valley. Actually (and I'm not sure why) we came to the house in front of ours.
I looked into the windows from the curb of the street and saw brilliant colors bouncing around the walls of all the rooms. Everything in that house looked wonderful, beautiful, and new.
I asked the cat what this was, and he said, "This was when you fell in love with Camron. Everything was glorious and filled with wonder."
I smiled as the emotions of that time swirled about in my head. I knew that I was in that house, happy and loving life.
"This is a really good time, then, isn't it, Cat?"
"For you, yes," said the cat, with a somewhat grim look.
Completely shocked that this time could be anything but a joyful one, I looked at the cat and asked, "What do you mean?"
"You were so thrilled with where your life was going at that time, that you hardly paid attention to anyone else's. Not everyone was going through something joyful, and they wanted to talk to their leaders about it. But they knew not to disturb you in your joyful state."
I thought back to the place of the dark man, to being a prisoner and feeling abandoned. It was then that I realized that I had imprisoned some of my friends and left them abandoned in their pain.
"But it WAS a joyful time!" I pleaded with the cat to understand that I didn't mean any harm, and that I did think I was entitled to joy at that time of my life.
"You WERE entitled to joy, or else the Father wouldn't have given it to you. But had you just been a listening ear when you were needed, that entire room would have shared in your joy instead of feeling left out."