A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

One of my favorite parts of the day are those few moments right after I wake up. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try desperately to hold on to the intricacies of my dreams. Often swept away in adventure, dream Aimee helps save the world from impending doom. (She is pretty heroic--plagued by the balance of mercy and justice. You would like her. She's saved you several times.) But within a few minutes of waking all of the details of my journey disappear, replaced by a vague awareness of the big picture. When I have really fun dreams I struggle and fight to hold on. I want to tell my husband about them, but even then I can't recreate the magic for him. 

Every once in a rare while though, I have a dream that lingers for days. It almost haunts me. I'm talking about the kind where you wake up and you still vividly feel the emotions you felt as your dream ended. You can't quite shake the faces you saw or the events that took place. It just stays with you. Does that ever happen to you? I had a dream like that once about my husband...before we were even dating. It threw me for a loop for days and ended up making me decide to give him a chance if he showed any interest. Crazy.

Last night I had one of those dreams. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all morning. The first part is opaque--a foggy memory. But with the last part I remember every detail; the feelings still linger; I can't escape the face I saw. 

It started out where Dan and I had to go through some crazy obstacle course underground. Bone chilling dampness in a dimply lit room. We had to do all kinds of crazy things that I don't quite remember. Jump through hoops. Climb what seemed to be infinite ladders. But eventually we crawled out of the cellar into a cozy, warm room. And there waiting for us was this adorable blonde, curly haired little boy with a spark in his eye. We rushed to him, eager to hold him--to feel his warmth against us. He was real. He was ours. We had adopted him and we were finally able to bring him home. The joy and love we felt still remains in my heart. It was this picture perfect moment of utter bliss. He curled in on himself with laughter as we told him how much we loved him and cuddled as close as possible.

His face. His joy. And our hearts so full of love. That's what remains with me today. Like a precious memory yet to be. I'm not saying anything will come from this dream. But for now it's fun to think, and imagine, and dream about a future hopefully not far off. 

What do you do with the dreams that haunt you? What are they about?

All the feels

It's a dreary, rainy day, and I'm feeling all the things. ALL of them. I don't want to feel them all. I don't want to feel any of them. But alas, they are there. So what's to be done?

Option 1: Find a comfy sweater, jeans, and slippers. Top it off with a cute scarf. (I don't want to look like a total bum here.) Light a bunch of candles. Turn on the fireplace. Cuddle up with my puppy and marathon something on Netflix. Chuck to be exact. (Decent Choice--comfortable, who doesn't love comfort?)

Option 2: Think about the feelings. Journal about the feelings. Process the feelings. Ugh. Feelings, feelings, feelings. (This is my least favorite option. Can you tell? Hard work. Potential pain. Possible tears. Count. Me. Out.)

Option 3: Bed. Go directly to bed. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Go to bed. Hide under the blankets. Do not come out again until the feelings are gone. (Obviously the best option. Revolt against the feelings! Who's with me?!)

It's pretty clear that option 3 is the most desirable option. It's the easiest. Safest. There's no risk at all, and as an added bonus, it's warm! Yay blankets! However, it's stagnant. It leaves no room for growth. C. S. Lewis describes something like this well: 

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Dang, Mr. Lewis. I hate it when you're right. Safe actually comes with too many risks--an unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable heart. Not worth it. All right, scratch option 3. 

I'm still not liking option 2 very much. It sounds hard. So we're scratching that one too.

But option 1 is too easy...too comfortable. Can anyone really grow when they are comfortable, unchallenged, secure? I think option 1 leads to a life of blissful ignorance. And, to be honest, that's not really what I'm looking for. Scratch option 1 too.

So we're still left with all the feelings and 3 scratched options. I think the feelings are pretty unavoidable. They're still there, bubbling and mulling: creating new trains of thought. Dang. I wish they'd stop, but I'm motivated by this desire for true healing. The kind Jesus offers.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." - John 10:10

Fullness of life requires authentic healing. Which means...I have to feel the feels; not exactly on my list of favorite things. So how can we make this easier?

FINAL Option: Find a comfy sweater, jeans, and slippers. Top it off with a cute scarf. (I don't want to look like a total bum here.) Light a bunch of candles. Turn on the fireplace. Grab the journal. Start processing the feelings. It will be okay. The blow will be softened by the candles, cute scarf, and comfy sweater. 

And so my journey begins...