I Dreamed of Yeshua

I’m never one to remember my dreams. In fact most mornings when I wake up, by the time I walk to the bathroom, whatever I had dreamed is already gone. But last night I dreamed of Yeshua.

2016 has started off really rough. My job is demanding technically, legally, emotionally and spiritually; most days I even drag myself home physically exhausted because all of my other capacities have been run dry. Since January, all Hell has broken loose at the housing properties and my office team (who are very supportive of each other) have been struggling with morale issues because everyone is under attack in some way. I’ve also been struggling personally with the patrilineal burdens I’ve inherited from the men in my life who have come before me. My struggles with personal identity, value and success (or lack thereof) have been loud and ugly…and it’s all the arguments going on inside.

Needless to say I’ve been fighting off or hiding from depression for the last couple of weeks. I can play at it for a while, being strong for everyone else, but I finally asked yesterday: “Who’s being strong for me?” Once that question was out of the box, there was no putting it back. And I fell to pieces.

I prayed. I pleaded for God to show a way forward. To allow me to answer a greater call. I demanded for Him to acknowledge and answer my dreams that have been laid in their grave.

What I didn’t know was that my wife was desperately praying for me at the same time. She pleaded with Jesus to meet me, somehow.

And then last night I fell asleep.

***

I found myself in a great white stone palace in a large room. The stone was almost like crystal, but even that description can’t do it justice. It felt very Greek, but was timeless.

The large room I found myself in was dark, backlit with blue and green light and there was a blue mist winding around the black tile floor.

I held a sword in my hand and knew at once I was under attack. The things coming at me were everywhere and they looked like rotting corpses, like zombies. Some were missing limbs but they could talk and were saying all kinds of horrible things. They were demonic, and they looked exhausted because they weren’t able to put up much of a fight when I began to fight back with my sword. Yet all the same I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of them.

It was then I realized that someone else arrived and was helping me to fight them back. By the time the battle was almost over, my ally had easily slain most of the horde. I remained fighting one enemy, the captain. My ally did not intervene, but let me finish the fight as I cut off its appendages until it simply laid upon the floor unable to move.

“You’re done,” I said as I turned to walk away.

The demonic captain looked up at me with his gruesome face and exposed eyeballs and spoke: “Just do it already.”

So I cut off his head. I then realized I was covered in greasy guts. I turned to look at my ally, my helper.
He stepped out of the shadows and I immediately knew his face and I spoke his name in my heart: YESHUA. It was the name his mother would have called him. I knew him and I knew he knew me. Yet all I could utter from my lips was: “I’m a mess.”

Then Yeshua smiled; he was kind and spoke: “You ordered the Greece.”

I knew it was a joke, a play on words about the battle we had just come through, and yet there had to be a deeper meaning, a puzzle to solve. He helped me, but he didn’t do it for me. I had guts on me and the sword in my hand to prove that I had done battle in the heavenly realm alongside Yeshua my Messiah, against my enemies.

***

I woke up amazed, pondering the meaning of what he said and I’m still not sure but there are some clues in my life and the things I’ve been working on in my writing that might yet prove true.

My wife is a big time dreamer; she remembers her every dream each morning. And sometimes they are spiritually significant. This was the first time I had ever had a spiritually significant dream and I relayed it to my wife.

When I finished, she asked about the meaning of Yeshua’s words. I told her I wasn’t sure.

Then she asked: “What about Greek warriors, are they tough?”

I immediately could see scenes from the movie 300 in my mind with King Leonidas fighting with his fellow Spartan brothers against the hordes of invading Persian troops. I told her that historically the Spartans were among the toughest, hardest soldiers ever bred for war.
She then told me about how she pleaded with Jesus to meet me in my dark time of struggle. My wife is certain that who showed up was Jesus/Yeshua as his hardest, warrior self to help fight against the forces of darkness coming against me personally. Yet during the whole battle, I never doubted his love.

There are still so many pieces to put together regarding this dream. As for what he said to me: “You ordered the Greece.” I think it will take time to reveal the meaning, but perhaps some of the interlinear work I’ve been doing in the bible may be the key to unlocking my way forward.

Questions

If relationship is what you desire,
Then why do you hide,
Where did you go?

If you’re word is your bond,
Then why do you tarry,
Or make a promise?

If you know my heart,
Then why do you hurt me,
and ignore my dreams?

Why is it always with you,
Love is black and blue?

The Golden Pocket – part 9 finale

The firelight in the hearth of the tavern flickered in all but the furthest corners of the room. Two men, young and impatient, sulked in the shadows sitting at their square table. Each of them had at lease one beer more in their bellies than good judgment would allow, but they were far from finishing their night.

Eiver waved over the serving girl. “One more tankard for me…and my brother.” His speech slurred each word.

The serving girl looked at both of them, her brow furrowed with doubt. “Pay first. Drinks next.”

Eiver reached into his pocket but his money, or rather what had been his money, was gone down his gullet with the last ale.

Escher shrugged. His money vanished also. “That’s the last of it.”

As if it fell from heaven––or bounced up from hell, a single gold coin dropped on the tabletop and spun until it landed face side up.

“I’ll cover their tab for the night,” spoke a cool voice.

Through their ale-washed haze, Eiver and Escher gazed upon a man in a long green coat with sky colored eyes joining their table.

The serving girl returned with three tankards of ale. Foam bubbled up and washed over the sides. She placed an ale in front of each man, took the gold coin and started to walk away but her wrist was held in a viselike grip by the man in green. “That should pay for our room and board for several nights.”

She nodded. He let her go.

“Thank you kind sir,” Eiver said.

“Our luck had run out,” said Escher.

“No my friends,” said the man in the green coat. His blue eyes seemed to flicker, mimicking the firelight. “I would say your luck has just changed.” He leaned in toward the brothers. “What would the both of you do with an unlimited supply of gold for seven years?”

THE END

~

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The Golden Pocket – part 8

A full day’s ride by horse led me toward a clearing I recognized. The small woodcutter’s cabin stood exactly as I left it. It appeared as small as a shack against the surrounding towering cedars. I dismounted and led my horse down the dirt path toward it. My stomach flipped over and I wondered what my reception would be like.

At a distance I could see the front door open and two young men running toward me. The first to reach me was Eiver, strong and handsome.

“My lady,” he panted and bowed in half. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Escher stopped right behind him. “We would be delighted to afford you shelter and feed for your horse.”

I looked past them to the cabin, but Eshrun never appeared at the door. Glancing back at the two young men, I put on my best mask: a disarming smile. Down the path and inside the cabin they led me.

I immediately saw Eshrun sweeping and cleaning. He glanced at me once and then looked away back toward his duty. My confused heart sank into the sea of my own disappointment. I had come back for him and he would not even look at me.

Eiver and Escher seated me in the lone armed chair by the fire. I accepted.

Escher then kneeled beside my chair and asked: “My lady, may I ask your name?”
“A…” I stopped before finishing, realizing that they did not recognize me at all. My appearance had changed so drastically that I was a new person to them. “My name is Araina,” I said.

I looked over at Eshrun. No light of dawn upon him illuminated me as his betrothed. I was a mystery to them all.

“I’ve heard there’s an old woodcutter who lives here with his sons. May I speak to your father?” I said.

All of the young men looked at each other, none speaking.

“He passed away,” Eshrun spoke from the corner. “His grave is amongst the trees, if you are seeking his attention.”

Eiver and Escher chided their youngest brother, but he shrugged them away. I asked for a refreshment and they brought out a flagon of wine. Upon my insistence, there were four cups laid out and I offered to pour.

“I must confess,” I said, “I am alone in the world and seeking the other half of my heart. I’m looking for a husband to join me.”

Eiver and Escher lit up with puffed chests and shoulders stretched out like wings. Eshrun remained back in the corner.

I poured each cup of wine, handing the first two to the eldest sons. None of them saw the thing I dropped into the last cup, offering it to Eshrun.

Eshrun refused the cup. “I cannot partake, my lady.”

“Why not?” I asked.

His eyes traveled out through the window to the trees beyond. “I made a promise…to my father.”

Escher snickered. “Eshrun’s betrothed.”

“And what good is a commitment to a dead man?” I asked Eshrun.

His eyes looked at me, filled with tears. “It’s as good as to one living. I await my betrothed’s return.”

Eiver waved him off. “You’re waiting to marry a bear. Your promise was foolish.”

Eshrun glared at his brothers and looked away.

I nodded and handed Eshrun the cup once again. “You have already been chosen. Please drink to our good health before any more choices are determined.”

He received the cup. We all drained our wine. My eyes traveled over the faces of the young men and halted upon Eshrun. His face changed, confused. Holding out his hand, he spit out a small, golden half-circle. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the other half of the ring and he placed the two halves together perfectly.

“You’ve come for me,” he said. “I should have seen it in your eyes. The eyes never change.”

“But how could this be?” Eiver said.

“But you’re beautiful,” said Escher.

“She was always beautiful,” Eshrun said, taking my hands, kissing them and lacing them around his neck. The strength of his embrace around my frame felt safe. For the first time in seven years I sensed what it meant to be home.

Without a word but not without much puffing, Eiver and Escher arose and left. We never saw them again.

~

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