A Dream

On June 12, 2018 I had one of those dreams that haunt you; you instinctively know they're important and, because they are, they stay with you even after you wake up.

 In this dream, in an out of the way location, I came upon an ancient, abandoned and presumably, Catholic Church. It was huge and beautiful; it was also both magnificent and grungy—absolutely filthy, run down and in a state that can only come about by hundreds of years of neglect and misuse.

Naturally, I wanted it.

How it came about I don’t know, but in the dream it became mine and I set about restoring it.  Cleaning, scrubbing, polishing, and, in the process, discovered so many nooks and crannies; there were hand carved crosses of the Celtic type that were not hung on the walls, but were actually a part of the walls, even though they stuck out about six inches.

This church had obviously at one time been a thriving place that people loved and cared for, but now it was run down and shoddy as though nobody cared. The truth is, people who did care, had misused it, or used it for their own purpose; their own self-aggrandizement.

The more I worked, scrubbing, cleaning, sanding, the more rooms and alcoves I discovered. There was also an upstairs overhang, like an interior balcony overlooking the congregation below.

As we all know, without any apparent rhyme or reason, anything can happen in a dream. Still, we dream it for a reason.  Well, this was a dream where many unexplained things took place and where time was of no consequence, so I don’t know how long it took to restore it, but one day I realized it was beginning to glow and seemed to be taking on a new life.  And then one day it began filling with people coming from all directions.  Some were walking and and some were gathered in tiny groups, talking, while others were sitting in chairs as though waiting.

It was then I realized that there was no pulpit; no place for a speaker to address the people. The nearest thing that might work was the upstairs balcony that overlooked the congregation. But, for some reason, although it would have worked, it just didn’t feel right.

Nobody seemed to be prepared to address the congregation, even though there were priests and pastors from all denominations scattered throughout the church, including one I understood to be a Moslem cleric, which made me feel a little uneasy.  All were there to take part in the worship service.

On that day many people had gathered, including priests from different denominations, to become part of the new beginning; a place where the Holy Spirit resided; a place where the Spirit of the Living God was more important than any ism.