I just published my 100th post, and I feel compelled to comment on it. I began this journey 78 days ago on Easter, and so it really is quite remarkable that I’ve had so much to say. I have always been a prolific dreamer, but I guess I never realized just HOW prolific until I started writing them down. A few of these have been posts with commentary, the “rest of the story” when there is more to tell, but for the most part, these hundred posts have been dreams.
My friend Karen has provided a few different analogies about dreams. In one, she likens the dream to a play on the stage. Each of the actors are played by parts of ourselves, and God is the director, writing the story and telling each character what to do.
When I asked her about “which parts of the dream are important” she responded that all of them are! She went on to describe a dream like a painting, using a nativity painting as an example.
By Fra’ Filippo Lippi (1406-1469) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Looking at the above painting, if someone asked you to describe the painting, what would you say?
Most of us would describe it as a nativity scene, with baby Jesus in the manger, and Mary and Joseph looking on. Perhaps you would tell of the angels up above, of the animals watching in the background. Would you mention the child peeking from around the back of the barn? Would you mention the stacks of rope that seem to have been placed as a makeshift fence? Would you speculate about what used to be in the stone ruins to the right of the barn, or point out the angels that inhabit that space? Would you discuss why it seems that the perspective of the viewer is inside another building, perhaps looking out at the scene from within the fabled inn? Would you describe the cloudy sky, and wonder if it would rain?
Upon a cursory glance, most of us would not admire that much detail. We wouldn’t ask “why” that detail is there, for to us – the viewers – it simply *is*. But that detail did not get added by accident – somewhere in Italy in the 1400’s, Mr. Lippi decided to add those details with many careful and intentional strokes of his brush, and for that, there was a reason.
In our dreams too, there is a reason for everything. Even the seemingly random and bizarre things. In fact, perhaps those are the things we should pay the most attention to. How often do seemingly crazy things happen in a movie or a show, right before something more subtle but very important? It’s like the director’s way of saying, “In case you weren’t paying attention – come back now, you’re going to need this!”
So 100 dreams later, do I have any huge, Earth-shattering revolutions to share? No. But I will take this opportunity to re-affirm that I’m listening, should they come along.