Dream a Little Dream

I've been having bad dreams lately.  In general, they have to do with not being able to protect myself or my son.  Almost all of them involve me being attacked in our home and either not being able to find one of our firearms or, inexplicably, not knowing how to use it.

I tend to wake up just as I realize that I'm unable to defend myself against this intruder.  I'm willing to use deadly force so I suspect that these attacks in my dreams are likely to end in my death.  I think these dreams are highlighting that I can't necessarily control everything that happens, particularly life or death. 

The message is unsettling, to be sure, but it is the truth.  I've been trying to conceive for 18-months with no luck yet so I obviously don't control life.  The sudden loss of my only brother last month demonstrates that I sure don't control death either.

* * *

I had a very strange dream last night.  It didn't quite follow the standard dream formula that I've been experiencing lately.  After mulling it over for a bit, it actually left me feeling pretty good.

I dreamt that I was walking with my son in the jogging stroller and that a man asked me for money.  I said I did not have any and he attacked me, trying to get to my handbag.  I was able to run away, but he somehow tripped me up and I landed face down on the sidewalk.  The stroller began to turn and I thought it might roll away.  I knew if this happened that my son would end up in traffic and I saw red.  I grabbed the tire pump (which is located in the basket below) and I clocked the perp.  Then I launched myself at him and we fell next to a brick planter.  I began to choke him and beat his head against the bricks.  He fought to escape and I grabbed his wallet as he ran away.  I grabbed my son and started calling the police with my attacker's drivers license information.  Suddenly I noticed that he was returning with a gun.  Holding my son against my chest, I ran.  I ended up shot three times; my rear, my shoulder, and the top part of my ear.  Fast forward to this Thursday (funny how dreams do that, huh?) and I asked a friend to take my son to a Trick or Treat event since I was unable to attend.  She asked why and I explained that I had been shot on Tuesday.  I added that "God was looking out for me."  She asked how I figured, after all, I had been shot three times and could have been killed.  I explained that I'm still here and I'm going to be okay.

You don't have to look real deep to see what I think this dream means.  Yes, I've been wounded.  I've been wounded on many fronts in this last year.  I'm hurting emotionally and mentally.  Sometimes physically and sometimes spiritually.  But these wounds, though they may hurt and oh how they do hurt, they aren't lethal.  I'm still here and I'm going to be okay because God is looking out for me.

Sitting here with that realization, all I can say is:  Hallelujah!