A real dream.

Once upon a time I slept. And while I slept, I strove. In my dream, I ran around organizing an event for other people. I was creating and planning and trying very hard to satisfy my passion and artistic vision and perfectionist standards. Everything was going wrong, everyone was stressing out. I was trying to bolster everyone's confidence, solve all the problems, make it all work, hold it all together. I was even trying to delegate, but everything eventually came to rest on my shoulders. I was getting tired in my sleep. In the midst of my chaos, just to add to the demands placed upon me, honored guests arrived. But not just any honored guests, these were my honored guests, a family of old friends come to celebrate in my event, come to honor me. And I had no time, no attention to give these people that I loved. I smiled, waved, shouted a hasty hello, and turned my back on them to face my problems. They were kind and patient, they could see how busy I was, so they dispersed and occupied themselves with trying to help those to whom I'd managed to delegate tasks. Except for one. He stood. He waited. When I began to run around some more, he followed. I ignored him, preoccupied with conversations about details and wanting to wait to say hello until I could do it properly. My managing took me down a hallway and into a bathroom; I paused to breathe for a second and perhaps shed a few stressed tears. Guiltily, I realized that someone was outside the bathroom waiting to speak with me; there was more to do and more people needing a piece of my attention. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath and pasted on a neutral face as I rounded the corner and strode into the empty hallway. It was my old friend standing and waiting for me. I sighed, "Hi," with a tired smile and he opened his arms to me, returning the smile. I threw myself into them and he held me tight, breathing in my hair. Then, to my surprise, he grasped me under my arms, lifted me up and spun me, looking up into my eyes. Deep into my eyes. Through my eyes and into my soul. I seemed to hang there for a moment, suspended effortlessly in joyous embrace as his gaze penetrated layer after layer of my heart and planted assurance in a place so deep I'd never known it existed. He loved me. And he knew my imperfections and failures. And he loved me with them, not despite them. And we were perfect for each other-- meant for each other and we would be together and although this would be hard sometimes because life is that way, everything was going to be okay. I was going to be alright with the way that everything would play out, because he would be with me. And he was going to love me, deeply and completely, always. There was nothing I could do that would change that. These truths wrapped themselves up into a single, rich, resonating impression. It reverberated through my soul and echoed through my being, washing over every last corner of me.

Then I awoke. It had been a dream, but the feeling was still over me. Over me and through me, still echoing and still powerful. More real than any of my waking emotions or intuitions-- on that day or any other. The feeling of that moment had sunk itself deep into my mind, down through my heart, and put roots in my soul. It glowed, grew, filled me with warmth and a security unlike anything I'd felt before or have since. It left no room for doubts or insecurities. I was loved. I am loved. I will always be loved. By Him. And that is more real, more deep, more solid than the earth I stand upon. It is a truth more certain to me than my certainty that I exist. I might not exist, but I am loved. That feeling is with me still, an undercurrent to the hum of my heart which sings stronger when I recall that suspended moment in my beloved's eyes.

At first, of course, as I sought to go about everyday life, I wondered if this dream was a prophesy of the man I would marry. I was confused by the fact that my friend in the dream had red hair-- not at all like that friend so named on this side of waking. And if the dream were about marriage, then perhaps the feeling that overcame me was more about wish fulfillment than truth. Yet I knew that that feeling was more true and more powerful than anything for which I knew to wish. Mere want could not hold such contentment. The impression grew stronger and sank deeper, refusing to fade in the face of daily duties. Even my analysis could not tamper with that pure emotion, and slowly as I teased out sentences and cloaked in it words, I identified my beloved. The name and face of my friend were irrelevant. This was not a dream about boys. This was a dream about Jesus. Who knows me-- completely. (Jeremiah) And loves me with my flaws. (Hosea) Who is perfect for me and for whom I am meant. With whom I will always be, and although sometimes this will be hard because life is that way, I will always be okay with the way things go because He will always love me and nothing I do can change that. (Romans 8) It sounds too good to be true. But it's real; it's written on the pages of my Bible, beaming from the eyes of my Beloved, growing in the deepest chamber of my heart.



"I will praise the LORD, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me." Psalm 16:7