Before I woke, the Lord Himself told me of all the things I’d seen: awake or not, all of this was the dream of it. This was yet another example of the madness figuring itself out for me, telling me exactly what it is. Which that in itself might make one pause, perhaps in this telling a clue, a finger pointing to the moon, or just up. For I have always thought that larger voices have called me, however mysterious the message may be that they hint at. The greater implications I do not understand, I don’t think, or I am afraid to try and pry their meanings loose. But a dream: this is somewhat less than the world, somehow more than one’s own imagination. What is it, exactly, that we connect to in the dreaming? Perhaps, as with many things, there is meaning in its mystery. And greater than the comprehension, the experience....
Anonymous