Two days, two nights of dreams, dreams, dreams. So virtual tests go... two of those dreams were truly nightmares! Thankful to wake up in "reality" and realize none of it was true! With a few dreams inspirational, a few scene dreams of information fed into my soul like a twitter stream of consciousness.... I am cooked... is the recipe over yet!? Certainly enough ingredients to the endless waste of my body and mind trying to process forks, some knives, a little poison, a lot of bitters, some divine love, with salted water..... oh! and a creepy little cell phone not working most of the time; essentially never working when "timely." Definitely the black "bug" like thing meant to realign my dream world with machine!
How much more vulnerable can one be than in sleep... in dreams... ? Ah... to have the pure sleep of dreamers in love! Now that is divine and worthy of life. Anything else is quite truthfully - depressing! When this life is "rolled up like a scroll - dream" in the mind of God..... I will have to trust that the unreality of life is also a virtual test of truth. I am flunking many of my tests of truth and virtue. Flying high on others. What will be left of me, I am forced to concede, must belong to God.... who records all of this, I am sure, to mercifully reveal what creature we really are.... what we are destined to be.... No failing memory will work when the video plays up again and there I am - big as life! Flailing or Flying! Sometimes I think... life and love is either on or off.... there is nothing in between.... Until reality interrupts the dream. Now what can I make of this that follows?.... a rose it was not:
Sleeping, dreaming, my little white fluff by my head..... both of us under the canopy of a montage picture of love and words kinder than anything in life under these skies.... Flack!... um mm what! Look around, feeling, hearing voices now with a creeping thought manifest in the largeness of two rooms. Nothing - go back to sleep.... Fropel! Cr ac! Again! Creeping and voices accompany a real, thick, spongy, feeling. Turn up the air, go back to sleep... there is nothing there.
Two hours... same thing. What! Three hours... air is good... but I am sweating. Just my imagination... look, my baby in a fur coat sleeps soundly. Go back to sleep... yeah, sure! All is normal on high alert at 4:00 AM!
Clepelleaa... foonge.... Something!! Man, yes... real real voices... real two men- male voices in English... outside! Could not understand them... but this time - people you are real!! I rise up fast, suddenly... intent to catch the two outside my house... I have been on high alert too long to not be lightening quick about it - no sluggard me now! Look! Nothing there but... at that moment... a flying leep-creep of the biggest darn FROG LANDING on my angel picture! And he has the gall to just stare at me with those horrible frog eyes totally ogling me & the white fluff who miraculously is unaware this frog is over her head! She just stares at me standing up... like "Mommy" what are you up again for this time?
Somehow, I manage to awake another in the next room.... "Just get me a pitcher and a magazine from the bathroom!.... And, don't ask any questions!" I holler with the weirdest voice I've ever heard from my throaty memory. A pitcher and a magazine, stumble in sleepily, dreamily, non-questioning as I engage the FROG in a staring contest, and WILL my little white curly baby fluff to just stay, lay, and do not move! Again, another miracle... all six pounds of her just lay there, breathing sweetly, waiting for me to give a command, or get back into bed like a sensible two-legged being. Her adorable eyes, fixed on my face, are as irresistible in this life as the repulsion of the frog eyes bulging with menace and dark incomprehension to my light and love.
With the pitcher and magazine in hands, it is now my final hour .... 5:00 AM! The time, apparently, I must prove myself worthy of something I still cannot possibly fathom or process. It is just raw instinct now. There is a huge bullfrog, knocked over my picture, and sitting atop the face of my one and only love! This is definitely war ... you staring creep from black of night lagoons in rainy torrents!
I pray and take my rhythm leap of faith... the large plastic, white, pitcher squares over the black, mottled bullfrog like a new dimension from space. He is very neatly caught, not fighting much... one wiggly-jump only ... and again his silent pulsing body sits but through the white cloud of his pitcher prison. I neatly slide the magazine under his cushy bottom, lift up together both hands like a concert master ensemble.... then manage through the doors, out the complex, black gates, through the yard... to the awaiting park and large pond ... which no doubt "hatched" the bugger little tadpole into a black-green thingy... somehow finding its way into my home (probably the garage)... then into three different rooms to find my brain-waving dream-active head so he could stare at me while sitting in judgement on who I care to love!
I ponder with great appreciation though, the voices ... of Heaven, no doubt. I do not (in general!) hear voices. Those voices were as real as us, life, the frog, our being, our Lord Jesus Christ! They were definitely outside my house (not in my mind). It was really the only thing to cause me to leap up so quickly... to "catch" the two men conversing in the middle of the night on my lawn! Had I not, at that moment, "heard" the voices SO STRONGLY!!..... the FROG would have then landed no doubt on my face, or at the very least still have landed on the picture just inches from my face. I think that thought would bring on some PTSD!
Mercifully, the FROG is fine in his pond, I am well in my domain, my little white fluff companion - unaffected..... and the sleep-walking deliverer of the pitcher and the magazine assumed it was a dream of sorts... with vague memories upon our real awakening at 7:00 AM!
Sweet Dreams .... Thank you God for spectacular mercy! Sleepy? Anyone?
