Lucid Dream of September 7, 2017
Mami and I are in a theater watching an old movie that stops suddenly, and after a few moments, the people up in the camera box announce that the remastered version can no longer be played, but we have the option to see the original version in another theater nearby. So Mami and I get up. I’m holding several Kindles and a notepad, and concentrating on them, so that Mami bumps against me, and says she knows what I’m up to now when I get like way with history. We reach steps I recognize lead down to the theater we want. Hurrying down them, I call up to Mami, urging her to hurry, because the movie is about to start. I remember the title of the old historical drama related to Christianity in some way begins with a “B”.
I’m moving really fast down a shadowy street, passing a dark city park on my right. I know danger possibly lurks there amidst the trees, so I veer to the left and travel even more swiftly along a sidewalk lined with shops, my progress unimpeded by a family sleeping on the sidewalk covered by blue and red blankets. I recognize now the dark cobbles of a street in downtown Boston I’m very familiar with both from waking life and dreams. I’m moving so fast, I stretch my arms out and begin flying. Oh yeah, this is a dream!
It’s daylight now, and as I fly down the street, it immediately occurs to me that my intent is to see what Jesus was writing in the dust (NLV Translation or “on the ground” according to other translations) as John observed and recorded in a passage of his Gospel (John 8: 1-12)
The idea to do this in a lucid dream came to me through my character Mary Fallon as she was talking to Steve in my new novel The Spirit of Imhotep – Lucid Dreams & Spiritual Warfare Book 1.
I know I’m flying in the direction of the ocean, a perfect place, so I pick up speed simply by willing it. I’m flying swift and sharp and sleek as the figurehead of a ship streaking through the blue air so around me all is a white surf-like blur.
I slow down as I near a boardwalk of sorts, and perceive steps leading down to it. I can’t seem to go any faster, but it’s fast enough. I land at the bottom of the steps, but now I realize that what looked liked sand is actually stone. I immediately inform the dream that I need sand (what I feel Jesus wrote on vs. dust) and close my eyes.
When I open my eyes again, the dark speckling of the stone has transformed into little shadows on sand. There is even a shallow but distinct oval indentation in the sand the shape and size of a large fish. Perfect! As I kneel beside it, I say, “Lord, please let me see what you were writing in the sand… in English, so that I can understand it.” I close my eyes.
When I open my eyes again, I see large carved or embossed letters with flowing lines, very fancy, lovely, obviously not a modern way of writing, but the letters themselves are recognizable as the English alphabet. Yet I wonder if they’re some form of ancient Greek as I seem to distinguish, from left to right, the letters C, X, Q or R. At first I think Jesus was writing what he was going to give us—eternal life and salvation through his birth as I imagine the letters might spell CHRISTMAS.
My vision moves along the row of letters, clearly distinguishing each one. I try to memorize them, but there are too many, and they don’t seem to form a word I can read or recognize. Bending even closer to them, I take one in my hands, because they have all stopped being merely letters. Swords, which are not quite as long or broad as my arm—they are more like huge letter openers—are topped by figures. I see a dragon’s head, a knight’s helmeted head, and then, on two smaller ones, the white head of a horse in profile, its mane flowing into the hilt. There are many of them, many more than the row of letters I originally saw. I handle quite a few of them, intrigued, because they are fascinating, yet I don’t see how Jesus could have been writing with them. I try to recognize the different figures, but I only remember a handful.
I am very much like the woman in the scriptural passage. I stood before Christ guilty of all sorts of sins, many of them sexual, but He did not condemn me, He forgave me, and now I sin no more.
I think perhaps the letters appearing in Old English is the Lord’s way of teasing me, of reminding me that a positive sense of humor is His gift, like everything else. The dream space can definitely tease us, play with us, have fun with us, and we have fun with it, precisely because it is NOT an IT.
I Googled “ancient Greek letters alphabet” then “ancient Hebrew letters” and it was obvious neither one was what I saw. So—since I had asked to be shown what Jesus wrote in English—I looked up Old English letters, and there it was, the script from my dream, which seemed to change from letters to images of dragons and knights and horses, but were still also the letters of an alphabet. When I looked up “Old English Christian manuscripts” many illustrations pulled up and reinforced my feeling this was definitely the language I saw in my dream. Many images were from Beowulf, which reminded me of the historical film Mami and I had been watching the remastered version of in my earlier dream, but we had to switch to the old original version, which made me think of modern English vs. Old English. I should have been even more specific and asked to see what Jesus wrote in modern English!
I’m sure my request was understood perfectly. Old English may technically have come up because it literally came first, was closest to Christ’s time, and because it was used to illustrate Christian manuscripts, etc. But I still feel it was the Lord playing with me in the most wonderful way, like a Father both indulging and teasing His child.
I emailed this dream to friends and family, and discovered another fascinating dimension to the experience when V., also a Christian, dreamer, wrote me back:
That is so amazing! This is my dream from that night:
I am somewhere… I write… it is fading now, but I am with a lot of people. There is one guy who is there dressed in white. I am watching him, and I tell my husband, “Look at this guy, he just jumped right in to help everyone.” I keep watching him and commenting on how great he is. My husband gets annoyed with the praise I’m heaping on this man. As I watch him, he is pouring white sand, or is it blessed salt? It is also sparkly, and he is picking up this sparkly sand/salt and pouring it into everyone’s hands as they come up to receive it. I say to my husband, “You usually can’t see goodness, but this man has manifested it and is giving goodness to everyone who comes up to see him.” I think as I watch him – Is this Jesus? I wake.
I thought it interesting, Maria, how we both saw sand, and Jesus was there giving words or goodness to us on the same night!!
That day we had gone to a Vermont cheese place my husband likes, and next door to it was a new Scottish store. We went in to look around, and there were what I thought were letter openers, one with a sword, one with a dragon, another a horseman. The lady told me that they were not letter openers but large pins for kilts! So I had to tell you that!
My mother, Juana Rosa Pita, also commented on my dream:
Perhaps what Jesus wrote cannot be grasped by our limited minds, and is a secret that we can share precisely only in this way, thus partaking in His Being.
I think He distributed salt in V’s dream since we are all supposed to be the salt of the earth.
I am inclined to agree with my mother, that I may not be meant to see what our Lord wrote that day on the ground, but in the spirit of “Ask and you shall receive” I think I will try one more time.