Since my father's death dreams have been a big part of my life. They have acted as both a channel for God to speak to me, as well as a foothold for the enemy. It's been almost five years since my father's death and I am sometimes still haunted with nightmares. I am writing this post to tell you of a dream that I too quickly labeled as a nightmare. I'm beginning to learn something about dreams. . . just because they "shake you up" it doesn't mean they are nightmares. I'm learning that God chooses to teach me about myself through dreams. He also reminds me of His goodness and faithfulness. Maybe that is why Satan chooses dreams as his way of getting to me.
Anyway - The dream:
I learn that my family has been the victim of a horrendous and unspeakable crime.
Standing in our living room, facing the window, I begin to cry out to God.
"Why would you let this happen to us, God?! Why?!" Amongst the pain and tears and confusion, anger began to slip in. . .toward God. Instead of crying out to Him, I started yelling at Him. I wiped the tears from my face and looked out the window. There he was. The man that was responsible for the earlier mentioned crime. My anger boiled over. I cursed at him and hit the window. I was yelling at the top of my lungs "Why would you do this to us?! I hate you!" My tears were causing my sight to blur. I blinked. He was gone. All I could see was my reflection, yet I continued to yell and curse. I knew he was there. I wanted him to know how horrible of a person he was. How much pain he had caused me and my family. I truly believed that he deserved to die for what he did.
I woke up from the dream and immediately labeled it as a nightmare.
I went to church the next morning and during worship, I thought of the dream.
A vivid replay went through my head.
I couldn't shake it.
Was the man that was "responsible" for all of this hurt ever really outside my window?
Was I yelling at myself the whole time?
