The vividness of this dream woke me up and I sat in the living-room in a daze for several hours. After the sun came up and the daily alarms went off, my fiance finally awoke and looked over the banister to me in the living-room below. He asked me what could possibly wake me and have me in the living-room when the tranquilizers I take to help sleep, push me well past my sixth snooze button on such occasions as I take them, like last night.
[For posterity sake, his name is Walter.]
“Walter, I had a dream. Before you say anything, it was so real, I feel like I’m still in the dream, in some other room of it.”
“Tell me the dream sweetie.” As he leaned over the banister.
After telling him even more than I’ve already written on it in my previous post, we were both in tears.
“Sweetie, that was a dream about Jesus, do you know that?”
I could feel it, but I couldn’t see how they fit together.
“You know, I was bringing you up to see Jesus. He’s your representation in Heaven for God, you can go visit him anytime and you’ve already been introduced. There’s no bigger court, than the court of heaven and he’s your guy. God is described by many things, one of them being ‘Ancient of Days’ so that’s what the old computer technology in the office represents. The gifts, that’s the Holy Spirit and his gifts. He just has gifts for you. He wants a relationship with you, more intimately, but you have so many things you’re holding onto you can’t get close to Him. You can’t even get your gifts, because your arms are so full of other, worldly junk, that just keeps you from really getting in the door easily to meet Him.”
My tears were streaming down my face.
“What’s so powerful, is that He not only gives you new gifts, he also buys the pain and items, good and bad, in your personal box that’s holding you back. It’s gifts upon gifts.”
I start sniffing softly. He leaned back from the banister, his cheeks also wet from tears, and Walter came down the stairs, meeting me on the couch to hold me.
“But you didn’t help me carry my box! I was so angry at you!”
Walter held me tighter. “Baby, if I carried your box, we’d be in a co-dependent relationship. We’ve both divorced ourselves from that cycle. I can’t carry your pain for you, I can just take you to Him that buys it back, and support you in the process.”
Harder sobs started shaking my body, noises escaping in-between the sobs like ‘ultimate suffering’ from a broken heart that Inigo Montoya heard when Rugen slaughtered his father.
“I know you know about Jesus, sweetie, you’ve been introduced to him so many times. Let’s pray to help you remove some of the items in your box that get in the way of your relationship with Him. You and me. I have some things I want to ask Him to buy back from me too.”
So that morning, as the sun was just starting to get warm, Walter prayed for us both. The box of regret, loss, pain, memories, failures, feelings, pride, and anger started to get lighter.
I prayed too, I prayed for the loss of marriages and relationships past, the books I had started to “write” that didn’t have fairy-tale endings. I prayed for three unborn children that died before they were born. I prayed for the intellectual property I was so proud of, the things I made that never went anywhere. I prayed for the good things too, the things that are good because Dear God allowed me to find love again with Walter, but I wanted all the credit.
Most of all, I prayed to empty my box, so I could get a present – I really wanted a gift from Him, addressed to me.