Suffering.Pain.Sorrow.Crucifixion.Death.Resurrection.Hope.Love.Light.L I F E
SP/Cross made from popsicle sticks and dental floss
I throw my line here and there
Good, bad, it doesn’t matter what I catch
All the colours of the scales are beautiful in my eyes
Some think fishing is for fools
To sit and wait
For things to happen
Days and years
The line is a funny thing
Sometimes the waters muck things up
The silver line breaks
But away I go
Casting it out again
“Look at that fool,” they say.
“Holding a stick at the water’s edge.
She is mad!”
And on they go, their faint shadows diminishing before my eyes
That are razor-sharp focused on that line
That really does move this time.
It’s not hard interpreting dreams. I used to want to know how to do this. I would ask my Dad as a young girl, and he would smile.
“We’ll, let me hear your dream,” he’d say.
“Alright. I was going to check the mail. I opened the mailbox and as I stuck my hand in the box, a black cat screamed at me. It clawed at me and hissed, and tried to attack me,” I said.
“You have a murmuring and complaining spirit,” he would say. “Start giving thanks more.”
Wisdom cannot be bought- not with all the money in the world.
And interpreting dreams is a gift- not just anyone can do it.
I only began to interpret them after reading more and more of the Bible. It opened up my mind, completely, and sharpened my discernment. Now, when I review a dream, the meaning fills my mind immediately. It’s not anything I have to think about.
Last night, I dreamed that I had a visit from a childhood friend. She was my best friend when I was a teenager. In my dream, her legs had been mutilated just above the knee on her left leg, and just below the knee on her right. She had crutches. Also, she had black stubble coming out of her face, like a beard that she had shaved. She’s a blonde, so this was particularly odd.
In my dream, we were in a small room by the highway. A truck came roaring by, and my friend began screaming and yelling at me out of fear, as the truck grew closer, trying to kick me. Of course, she couldn’t.
In real life, she and I haven’t seen each other in over a decade.
I understood the dream immediately.
Her legs represented her Christian walk with God. The mutilation represents her struggles over the years. Because her wounds had long since scarred over, the injuries are indicative of her childhood. The stubble represents “foreign” relationships, for two reasons:
1.) the colour
2.) it’s not something that naturally occurs
(a beard on a woman)
The fact that it’s new stubble, means that it’s very recent.
Because it’s dark, male hair coming from a female chin speaks of her possible homosexual tendencies. If I were to make a bet, it’d be a safe bet assuming that she has recently taken interest in women. (Or something along those lines.)
Because she was afraid of the truck, which was zipping by, and she tried to attack me, meant that she blamed me for some of her childhood mishaps.
Another dream I had was on a patch of land, that had many hotel rooms. Each room held a prostitute- they were gaudy, wearing tacky silver dresses. The rooms were small. I had knocked on a door, because I had lost my room. I was trying to find it. My room- was clean, with nice furniture and a fireplace- very private.
I was let in to a room that I was unfamiliar with. A prostitute was trying to coax me in there. She held a small, white animal, like a little pet dog. I looked through her window and saw, over the courtyard, my room! The door was open and I could see into it. I ran fast to get down to my room, and to safety.
Another interesting dream. 🙂
The patch of land represents my heart. All of the rooms; various rooms in my heart. Notice a whore lived in each room. This does not mean that I am secretly a prostitute! But make no mistake, a whore lives in every human heart. Consider it.
What’s the first thing that happens when we see something we want, badly, that we don’t have?
We lust after it.
Yes, I’ve grown accustomed long ago to the fact that in every human heart, there indeed lives a whore.
In my dream, I was able to see the various channels and avenues of lust that I need to work on.
No matter if it’s better hair, higher grades, a skinnier waist, just this THING inside of each person that screams out, “Me! Me! Me!” That is the little whore inside.
It always wants recognition. Praise. Attention. Satisfaction.
As a Christian, I know that it is my job to willingly crucify that beast.
Daily. To take it to the cross, and lay it down.
What is it that Paul said?
“I protest by your rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily.”
1st Corinthians 15:31