Saturday, September 22, 2007
Last night's dream was troubling on many levels.
Started with the much-repeated tornado dream, but with a twist (pun intended).
All the people of the city were heading to an organized shelter, in a very prescribed manner. The siren had sounded. Everyone knew where they would go in the event of such a drill or disaster.
As we herded into our places, it became apparent that we had been duped. Specially chosen; no disaster after all. We were all Christians. Not looking good for the *reason* we had all been herded into this place.
People began to question, then panic. No exit found, chaos ensued.
In the confusion, I had hidden under a desk or table to try to make a plan. I realized (here's the dream part of the dream) that I had a knife I could use to defend myself and the others. I was scared. I was hesitant.
Could I really use a knife (or any weapon) against someone? A person? I was now dizzy.
Screams from those around me provided the answer...I *had* to do something.
I changed my grip on the knife from one you would use to poke at someone, or merely frighten them, to one you would use to stab someone. Decision made.
I waited for an opportune moment and lunged from my hiding place. I struck the man who appeared to be the leader. As I plunged the knife into his chest, abdomen; over and over, I realized I was actually *killing* this man.
Ugh. Warm blood spilled from the man, onto my hands, making them slippery. People stood and watched. The other assailants fled. No-one said a word. No-one screamed.
Except me. I screamed at the people. I screamed at them to run, flee, get to safety. After a moment, they began to scatter. No longer quiet, but not panicked, either. Slowly. As though they could not process all that had happened. All they had seen. And what it all meant.
I, however, ran. Disgusted. Sickened. Certainly not proud or triumphant.
I rationalized my decision and found no guilt or shame or condemnation within me. It seemed in order to save the people, someone had to act. It seemed that person was supposed to be me.
I also realized that the end of the times was upon us; here in America, at least. No more pretending. No more asleep at the wheel. They were coming for *us*. And, I realized, I had not killed at man, but an evil entity. Shudder.
"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places."Ephesians 6:11-13