Showing posts with label What Dreams May Come. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What Dreams May Come. Show all posts

08 January 2010

Friday Five: Dreaming

How funny - two posts in a row about dreams. Odd.

Anyway, Sophia at RevGals has the Friday Five today, and it's a good'un. I'll let her bring you in:

With the beginning of my college teaching semester I have been having some unusually intense and memorable dreams lately--especially related to my Women and Religion class. With the beginning of a new calendar year many of us are engaging with dreams of another kind: planning, brainstorming, setting intentions or resolutions, etc. And many churches will celebrate the baptism of Jesus this Sunday, reading the Gospel account of his vision of the Holy Spirit as a dove and the "beloved child" words of [God] that set him off on his mission sharing [God]'s dream for the world. So let's take a few minutes on this (where I am at least) lovely snow-blanketed Friday morning and share about the many different dreams and visions in our lives.

1. Do you tend to daydream?
Oddly enough, not as much as I once did. I am as absent-minded as they come, but my lack of attention to the here and now rarely, if ever, happens due to a flight of fancy. I'm usually thinking about something concrete, whether it's the church, faith, football, books, or something else I'm experiencing/pondering at the moment. When I was a kid, however, I often found myself getting scolded because I wouldn't/couldn't stop daydreaming about anything and everything.

2. Do you usually remember your night dreams? Do you find them symbolic and meaningful or just quirky?
I do remember my night dreams, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they are deeply symbolic and meaningful; these dreams come during the stressful times in my life (death of loved ones, during my divorce, moving, trouble with work for myself or Beloved). Sometimes I have nightmares, and for the life of me I can't identify a cause - they just happen and then they're gone. I've shared in the past about dreams (also here) that seem to be the mental equivalent of flushing toxins out of my system. And sometimes my dreams are just plain weird, and no, I can't say anything more than that.

3. Have you ever had a life changing dream which you'll never forget?
Yes. About a month after my Grandpa Johnson died, I dreamed he came and sat on my bed, healthy and much younger than I ever knew him, and we talked about life and how much he loved us. I had similar dreams when my Grandpa Janke and Grandma Johnson died as well, and I've often dreamt entire conversations with Larry Meyer, my campus pastor and mentor. I'm not saying every dream is a message from God, nor am I suggesting everyone dreams their prayers, but I will say this: my faith was strengthened by all of these dreams, because they seemed to be holy moments.

4. Share a long term dream for one or more aspects of your life and work.
I have a few. I'd like to be the campus pastor at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln someday (relax, Eric, I'm in no hurry). I'd like to publish a book and sell enough copies to actually make a profit. I'd love to see if I'm up to the challenge of PhD level work on Bonhoeffer. But the dream overriding them all is to be a good husband, father and pastor first, and if that doesn't leave room for the rest, I'll be just fine.

5. Share a dream for 2010....How can we support you in prayer on both the short and long term dreams?
I'd love to see our campus ministry community double in attendance and activity by the end of the calendar year. I'd love to be pushing 100 in worship by December, with small groups meeting nearly ever day of the week in some shape or form. I'd love to have the sense that we're building leaders for the church, not just entertaining students as they pass through their years at Iowa State. I think that ought to be enough to pray on, don't you?

Bonus: a poem, song, artwork, etc. that deals with dreams in general or one of your dreams.
I've posted this many times before, but it's just so beautiful I keep coming back to it. I first discovered this poem in Garrison Keillior's collection Good Poems, and it always makes me think of those I love who've died, and how much I dream of seeing them again.

Four Poems in One

At six o'clock this morning
I saw the rising sun
Resting on the ground like a boulder
In the thicket back of the school,
A single great ember
About the height of a man.


Night has gone like a sickness,
The sky is pure and whole.
Our Lady of Poland spire
Is rosy with first light,
Starlings above it shatter their dark flock.
Notes of the Angelus
Leave their great iron cup
And slowly, three by three
Visit the Polish gardens round about,
Dahlias shaggy with frost
Sheds with their leaning tools
Rosebushes wrapped in burlap
Skiffs upside down on trestles
Like dishes after supper.


These are the poems I'd show you
But you're no longer alive.
The cables creaked and shook
Lowering the heavy box.
The rented artificial grass
Still left exposed
That gritty gash of earth
Yellow and mixed with stones
Taking your body
That never in this world
Will we see again, or touch.


We know little
We can tell less
But one thing I know
One thing I can tell
I will see you again in Jerusalem
Which is of such beauty
No matter what country you come from
You will be more at home there
Than ever with father or mother
Than even with lover or friend
And once we're within her borders
Death will hunt us in vain.



"Four Poems in One," by Anne Porter from An Altogether Different Language: Poems 1934-1994 (Zalond Books).

13 July 2009

Good Love - You Know, The Heart-Breakingly Strong Kind


Since the new Harry Potter movie will be released tomorrow night, and Beloved hasn't read the books, we bought "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" on DVD yesterday and sat down to watch it last night after the girls went to sleep.

After some initial reluctance to buy into the Harry Potter fad when the first books were released, I became a fan just before Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was published. I'm with Stephen King: I think JK Rowling is a ripping good writer who mixes imaginative plotlines with a deep understanding of human emotions and the seductive, covert nature of evil. There is a moment in "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" where Dumbledore says, "Dark and difficult times lie ahead, Harry. Soon we must all face the choice, between what is right and what is easy." That sums up an awful lot about life, if you ask me.

That having been said, in the months since my last contact with anything Potter I had forgotten what an emotional wallop this story packs, especially when delivered by the wonderful movies developed from the books. This might be children's literature, but it is not childish, not at all. People betray one another. Friendships careen along on a knife's edge because people misunderstand one another. Major characters die, and everyone suffers at some point. But for me, the lasting emotional impact of these books comes from the bond between Harry, Ron and Hermione. There's simply nothing stronger than the love they share for each other, perhaps most poignantly expressed at the end of the second movie, when Hermione, healed from a petrificus curse, sprints the full length of the dining hall at Hogwarts into the waiting arms of her friends. To love and be loved like that makes every other worldly gift or possession worthless.

After watching the movie last night, including a heartbreaking death at the end, I shouldn't have been surprised by the abandonment dream that came in the middle of the night. There's something about the shared heartbreak of Harry, Ron and Hermione that mirrors something of my own, I suppose, and JK Rowling obviously knows the pain of loneliness and abandonment as well. It's a fear we all share, I'm sure, but we are presented with a choice in regard to that fear. We can shield ourselves from the fear of rejection and abandonment, but in so doing we also shield ourselves from the full depth and strength of real love. Or we can open ourselves, become vulnerable to heartbreak and pain, but in so doing our love becomes genuine, self-giving, self-revealing, the kind of love that breaks our hearts open, but only so they can be filled more fully.

There is nothing safe, fast or easy about love - it takes risk, time and effort to love as God has intended. Even though JK Rowling doesn't do spirituality in the Harry Potter books, she has said she is a Christian, and I believe that the self-emptying love of Christ is one aspect of Christian faith she understands most fully. Today I'm grateful, though my sleepy haze from a restless night, for the way she wrestled with love, pain and suffering; it makes all of us consider it more deeply, and when people consider love, nothing evil can come from it.

Grace & peace,
Scott

20 February 2009

Old Wounds & Bad Dreams


I had a terrible dream last night. I mean, AWFUL. I don't remember what it was about, really, only that it involved a girl with whom I was absolutely infatuated my senior year of high school and my last week of music camp. Long story short, she wanted friendship, nothing more (in fact, that's pretty much my entire romantic history until Beloved came along), and eventually I got over the crush and we were pretty good friends in college.

But last night she was there, in my dreams, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Don't worry, it was nothing crude or gross. All I remember is seeing her sitting in the back pew of a church where I was preaching, holding a toddler and smiling wistfully, and a feeling of utter, complete despondency swept over me. Then I woke up. There was more to the dream, a lot more, but I don't remember any of it, only that last, terrible moment.

This isn't the first time this has happened. As a matter of fact, I have these dreams about once a month, with all kinds of people in the starring role: FW, old girlfriends, girls I wanted to date but never did, you name it: everybody gets their moment in the lunatic limelight of my nightmares. I don't understand it at all, but every time it happens I wake up with the same feeling: utter, complete loss and abandonment, followed by a heaving sigh of relief when I realize it was just a dream.

My response is always the same: roll over, snuggle up to Beloved, and remind myself that these dreams can't truly hurt me. Sometimes she wakes up and realizes what's going on, sometimes she doesn't. But I always tell her in the morning, and she always does the same thing: she wraps her arms around me and tells me she loves me. I truly have much in my life for which I'm thankful, but the #1 item on that list is always my beautiful, wonderful partner, who takes me as I am and has never once asked me to be someone I'm not, and for that I'm truly, truly blessed.

I don't understand what these dreams are doing. I'm neither Freudian or Jungian, I'm not a psychoanalyst at all, but I know there's something being purged in these dreams. Old hurts I've long since forgotten, perhaps, but still bleeding nonetheless? Just one side effect of being a person who really can't hide my emotions, complicated by taking a calling where my emotions can get me into trouble? A side effect of depression? (I'm on some mild anti-depressants due to some troubling signs last summer) Hard to say. But, when daylight comes, I'm reminded that they are only dreams, and in the end, whatever they may signify, the truth is who I am in my waking hours: a blessed husband who loves his wife and his girls very, very much, and a person who's tried to live my life as honestly as possible for quite some time now. If bad dreams are the price I have to pay for being who I am, I'm willing to pay it, because who I am came about because of the situations reflected in those dreams, even the bad ones, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.

I would, however, like to sleep well tonight, Lord. I'm just sayin'...

Grace & peace,
Scott

The painting is "The Nightmare" by Henry Fuseli, c. 1782.