To Dream is an Awfully Big Adventure

People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes. Neil Gaiman

I had a dream last night. Well, not so much a dream as a nightmare. I am sure I experience REM sleep like everyone else, but I don’t usually remember anything that happens during those sessions. I suspect my usual dreams are so boring they simply put me to sleep. But this one was different.

It was probably a typical “preacher’s” nightmare in that I found myself, first of all, late for church. For one who grew up believing that early is on time, on time is late, and late is inexcusable, the thought of showing up after a church service has already begun was absolutely horrifying.

Worse, was that it was apparently an important service and not the usual Sunday fare. The church was packed to overflowing; the air was filled with thunderous orchestral music emanating from a grand pipe organ combined with a symphony orchestra; the congregation was abuzz with great expectations as if, perhaps, Charles Dickens was in the house. 

My hands held a bit of drivel that was supposed to be my “sermon,” which meant I was apparently scheduled to be the preacher. I was mortified. The few words I could see scrawled on the tiny piece of paper clutched in my sweaty fists were complete pabulum compared to the grand oratory the gathered crowd was no doubt expecting.

I made my way down the side aisle. It was a tight squeeze due to the overflow-nature of the congregation. I tried to work my way up the right side onto the stage, but the door was barred by the organist and his symphony. That meant I had to traverse the front of the church (not a sin, but frowned upon by strict liturgists), and while the stairs to the dais were clogged, I was able to make my way up to my assigned place. 

Then I woke up, realized it had been a dream (or nightmare), and paused for a moment to give thanks to God it wasn’t real.

Or was it?

I am no Joseph, with or without a technicolor dream coat. I’m not trained in psychology or in the interpretation of dreams. I do know and I do believe God often speaks to us in our dreams, because it is in our sleep God can finally get a word in “wedge-wise” (to quote Archie Bunker). Dreams and nightmares are often personal and particular to the dreamer. What this night-time vision specifically means to me is mostly irrelevant to everyone else, but I can share what I would consider a key point that could be applicable in a more general sense, and that is ...

… Each of us is central to our own story, but few ever feel adequate for the role they’ve been given. I don’t think I have ever met a person who, on the outside, looks like they’ve got it “all together,” who doesn’t, on the inside, feel like a bit of a fraud or charlatan. And yet, each does his or her part as best they can. They know they’re highly unlikely to ever win a Pulitzer or Nobel Prize, or a Gold (Silver, or Bronze) Olympic medal. Their row of Sunday School attendance stickers may never come close to being as complete as those of their peers. And yet …

… while we see our own inadequacies, God sees us. Not our frailties. Us. Not our inadequacies. Us. Not our performances. Us. It’s not that our presence doesn’t matter, or that our preparation doesn’t matter, or that our presentation doesn’t matter. We’re here, so we may as well do our best, to do our part. But all of that aside, what matters to God is us. 

Motivational speakers urge us to dream big, or follow our dreams, but that puts the emphasis in the wrong place. I believe God dreams bigger than we ever could. We bring what we have in hand, and do our part when the time comes. God dreams of love and justice in the world. God makes what we bring more than adequate to accomplish that here in this, our valley. So wake up, sleepy-heads. Wake up.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The joy of roaming without a gnome

"Don’t make change too complicated. Just begin.” Anonymous

For the first time since the pandemic, I’m finally free enough to roam about the country as I had hoped to before it began – by car. As I’ve said before, I don’t care for air travel. I’m not afraid of flying; it IS nice being able to take a trip that would have taken months or years by covered wagon down to a matter of just a few hours in conditions we may complain about, but about which our ancestors would consider an absolute marvel, bordering on the magical. 

But today’s flying experience leaves a lot to be desired. While air travel may be quicker and less expensive than moving about by automobile, I prefer to keep my feet on the ground and my rump cradled in a seat designed to conform to my form. I like being able to change my destination with a turn of a steering wheel, taking a road less traveled or discovering vistas I’d have missed if flying overhead at 30,000 feet and 500 knots in a titanium tube.

Besides, I enjoy driving. Cruise control makes it very easy, and GPS has come a long way since the early days of NAVMAN. I remember driving down California’s central valley to Paso Robles. My electronic navigator had a slight malfunction and was convinced I was about fifty yards off the highway. “Please return to the road,” she suggested. I ignored her, for I was already firmly cruising down the blacktop. “Please return to the road,” she said a second time. I ignored her. No tin-plated Dalek was going to be the boss of me. And then, I swear, the voice turned cold and icy, and through clenched jaw, bared teeth, and curled lips she snarled, “Puhleaze … re … turn … to … the … road!” So I turned her off, concerned she might have a phaser hiding amongst her assorted accessories.

Today’s GPS units are much more accurate and helpful. Not only do they know where you are and where you’re headed, they can suggest alternate routes when there are accidents; they alert drivers to “speed traps” (a feature I don’t approve of – just obey the legal limits, folks). They know where one can gas up, put on the feed bag, find a place to hole up when needing sleep, and so much more. They really are a useful bit of technology.

What they can’t do, though, is carry on a decent conversation. I know AI (Artificial Intelligence) is making great strides – significant enough to worry teachers and philosophers alike. There’s certainly reason for concern. Yes, kids (of all ages) may short-circuit the learning process and have computers do their homework. They may produce reports and essays that don’t reflect original thought, research, or understanding the processes involved in communicating what’s going on between their ears. What’s new?

New technology always creates uncertainties. People often find creative ways to utilize that which is novel in a manner that could be used for ill, as well as good. Pagers connecting doctors to hospitals also connected pimps and pushers to their clients; the film that can capture an Ansel Adams masterpiece can also capture lewd and disgusting images; computers that send essays and reports around the world via the world wide web also enable terrorists (both foreign and domestic) to coordinate countless acts of evil amongst like-minded nihilists. 

Viruses and malware infect so many devices, too. What’s worse, though, is how those same devices have become their own viruses. Traveling across the expanse that is America, I couldn’t help but note how many eyes are downcast, not out of sadness, but wrapped up in videos or posts streaming through their mobiles. The only people I could chat with were the motel desk clerks and restaurant servers (who were all very nice, by the way). We are prisoners confined by the bars on our cells.

I am guilty of this, too, of course, but this trip is helping me break that addiction. I don’t text and drive; I don’t browse the web while on the road; I have looked up and noticed the roses are blooming. All I need to do is stop to smell them. Change is as simple as that here in this, our valley. Thank goodness!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)