THE DREAM

I tend to dream a lot.  My dreams are very vivid.  They’re filled with people I recognize, colors I remember later, and ridiculously small details that I often can’t believe found their way in there. Usually, I don’t even try to assign any significance to them.  They’re entertaining to relate to my family in the morning, but no more.  But there was one dream I had many years ago that I do recall often, because its message seemed profound in a way I couldn’t, at first, figure out.

In the dream I was coming home, but “home” wasn’t the split level home in the suburbs in which I currently lived with my husband and children.  “Home” was a three story walk up in a sleazy looking tenement style building in a row of other tenement style buildings.  I was aware that no one else, my husband and children included, knew about the place.  I was keeping it a secret.

 I walked up the three dimly lit flights of stairs to a small landing and unlocked the door to my apartment.  Like one of the homes I lived in when I was a kid, this one also had railroad rooms, where you entered into the kitchen, made a right and went from one room to the next, like cars in a train.   

My dream “home” was just like that.  I entered through the hallway door into the kitchen and then went down the hall through bedroom after bedroom.  As I walked I noticed that the rooms were sparsely furnished, with the beds unmade. On the floor in the corner of each room was a small mound of a white powdery substance I recognized as mouse poison.  Obviously, my apartment had 4 legged “guests”.  I remember wondering why I would ever have a secret apartment like that one.  I felt ashamed of this place.  It was dark and dingy and it had mice!  No wonder I kept it secret!  I could never invite anyone there.

And then I reached the last room, the living room, and was taken completely by surprise.  I faced a wall of windows and the view was amazing!  It was a cityscape, twinkling with a million tiny lights.  It revealed a view to take your breath away.  All by itself it made this apartment worth keeping.

I looked around.  Not only was it beautifully furnished, but everywhere I looked there were things that I counted as treasures.  Beautiful statues and paintings of things I thought to be lovely were everywhere.  Jewelry, not of much real material value, but rich with sentimental value, was lying out on tables, to be admired. Articles of clothing I loved, like my favorite dress in second grade, and the camel coat with the faux fur collar my dad bought me one Christmas Eve, were displayed on racks or laid over furniture.  Photos that had special meaning were on shelves. 

No one entering the apartment by the kitchen door, or walking through the bedrooms would ever have suspected that such a room, or such treasures, even existed. My heart was overflowing with joy as I looked around that room.  It was so beautiful that I could cry!  And then I woke and the dream was over.  Some dreams, although I think I’ll remember them the next day, are quickly forgotten, but not this one.  I spent a lot of time thinking about it in the days ahead, sensing that there was a message in it for me. 

In order to understand how I found meaning in this dream, you need to know a little about me.  I tend to be a quiet, private person.  I had always envied people who seemed to make friends so easily while it took me forever.  I love people and I love having friends, but I spent a good deal of my adult life hiding behind quietness and insecurity, afraid that when people knew me better they might not like me.  And then I had the dream.

Eventually God used that dream to help me to understand something about myself.  The “home” which I was keeping secret from everyone else – even some of those closest to me – was ME.  As I saw it, it wasn’t a pretty place – it was dark and stark and unkempt – and it had mice!  I was ashamed to have anyone in for a visit.  God helped me see that every time I kept someone at arm’s length, every time I related only on a superficial level, I was attempting to hide from them those areas of my life that embarrassed me.  Like my less than perfect mothering skills, or my rampant insecurities about my abilities, or my often present  feeling of being “less than” other women whom I thought of as prettier, smarter, stronger, more likeable than I.

Eventually I also began to understand the meaning of the beautiful living room, hidden away at the end of the house, full of precious treasures.  The “home” that was me, wasn’t only full of things I’d rather others not see, there were also treasures I was hiding! This was a revelation because I never thought of myself as having treasures worth sharing!  Over time God has helped me to see that the compassion He’s planted in my heart – for the dying, for the developmentally challenged, for foreigners living in the country for the first time, for teens – all of these are treasures.  He’s helped me to value the sense of humor and adventure He’s planted within, and the gift of teaching and all the opportunities to use it that He’s given me.

He helped me to see that while I was hiding the things about me of which I was ashamed, refusing to share them with anyone else, I was also hiding the treasures.  Potential friends I allowed in might move through the rooms of my “home” that I wasn’t so proud of, but if they stayed with it long enough, they’d also share my treasures.  And there WERE treasures to share!

Over time I’ve come to embrace what God showed me.  I no longer hide my dark “rooms”.  When I’ve had the courage to share what’s in them, my failings resonate with others who’ve faced similar things and I find myself blessed with new and lasting friends who “get” me even as I “get” them.  I have the courage now to live my treasures as well as share them – like the adverturesomeness of zip lining, the craziness of dressing up for April Fool’s Day with my granddaughter and posting the photos on Facebook, the blessing of saying YES to a mission’s trip at the age of 61!

I’ve dreamed a lot of dreams since that night long ago, and I still chuckle over most of them with my family, but none have had the impact on my life that that one had.  I’m so grateful for the lesson the Lord taught me through it.