Dream: I am looking down on a massive wall, built in the style of the Great Wall of China. I’m probably fifty feet above the wall looking down on a section. The lighting is dim, probably pre-dawn. I see the image for no more than one second…
…after which I am somehow jarred fully awake and alert. Very strange. I wonder if this has anything to do with the “defender” theme.
Dream: I’m talking to a guy whom I don’t know in real life. He looks to be about sixty years old. He’s got longish white hair and is wearing a decent looking suit. He’s wearing a handgun in an external shoulder holster. I know that this guy somehow is my bodyguard. A younger guy appears on the scene. He’s wearing sunglasses and is covered in personal weaponry. The older guy gets up and leaves. I feel awkward that I didn’t introduce the new guy to the old guy.
The new guy starts telling me that the older guy is having trouble getting around, is too old for the job, and that I should consider getting someone else. I realize the younger guy is schmoozing me and looking to replace the old guy as my body guard. Then the young guy asks me if I like watching the Cowboys. I tell him that, no, I don’t much like watching the Cowboys. On Sunday evenings I’m either busy with family or working on some music or writing project. END.
Somewhere around this date, I started wondering if the Cowboys/Seattle dream reference was something to do with a security event at the football game. The fact that a Muslim guy was in the second dream that morning kicked off that particular train of thought. The body guard dream which featured a random Cowboys reference also added fuel to the fire. And “defense” seemed to be the all the rage at the time. There might be room for a gifted defender, anointed by God for such a task, to shut down an attack at a major American sporting event
Wait and see.
Dream: I see a crowd in a room, all of them seated in chairs and facing the same direction; it’s an auditorium or something similar. I had apparently been in that same audience; but I’ve been pulled out from the crowd and separated from them. I’ve been positioned to watch over them effectively. The people in the scene don’t look like anyone in particular that I know. END.
By late February I began entertaining the notion that I should go meet the guy in the white shirt by the white car. I started taking a short cut to and from work that had me passing his usual hangout. I noticed his car had a Dallas Cowboys license plate frame. And I noticed that his car didn’t appear to be moved very often. After a few fruitless passes by, I found the man himself while on my way to work one morning. He was rightfully positioned by his vehicle. I called out a greeting, and he replied in kind. I continued on my way to work, and he continued standing by his car.
By late February I’d also begun earnestly pestering God with requests that, if indeed we have moved on from the awesome offensive capabilities of a bomber to whatever kind of defenses He might construct through me, could we please revisit the notion of offense again sometime? If I survived another trip through the wilderness and graduated and got to build castles in His kingdom, whatever that might look like, would I not merit another shot at being a bomber? Being a God-anointed defender would be just great. But I want to be able to do everything. Regardless of the fact that I’m a natural defender – if I think He’s taken offensive weapons off the table, then all I can think about it those offensive weapons that are off the table. “Does that mean no deliverance, healing of the sick, raising the dead, anything like that? Can I get a mulligan? Or a tenth mulligan or whatever it would be? Please God!” Except the “Please” was actually better spelled with three l’s and ten of the first e’s. I’m just too proud to spell it that way in the post. This groveling became a theme for several weeks following. As of this typing of this exact sentence in mid-April, it’s still a theme. I’m absolutely shameless about the begging, because I have nothing to lose.
I’ve given a lot of fruitless thought to what are offensive capabilities versus defensive capabilities in His kingdom; and whether I’ve truly lost out on something forever, or at least the rest of my physical life. If it makes sense that deliverance, healing the sick, and raising the dead are offensive efforts; and those capabilities are not available; then what’s left? Jesus didn’t do a lot of defensive-looking work in his ministry, so there’s not much by way of example there. He did calm the storm that was freaking out his disciples. I can’t think of anything else, off the top of my head. There’s no end to the wondering, because there’s no way for me to definitely know (on this side of my last breath) the answers to certain questions. I have to just live in the moment and see where all this goes.
February 25 (this entry was added a couple of hours after my initial post)
DREAM: I see written words and hear a voice speaking the words, “What do you have planned for the rest of the year?” END
Either in the dream or in my real-life brain, I immediately believed that this was a message from God. No guarantees about any of this stuff, of course. But the written/spoken combination has me convinced, these days. I figured the message indicated that , whatever we might be working towards for Phase II, it wouldn’t be this year. If the Cowboys/Seahawks game is really going to happen, for example, it would apparently be next year – either a playoff game for the 2017 season or some installment in the 2018 season. I couldn’t imagine waiting for the 2018 season.
All that speculation aside, someone had asked me a question. I hadn’t given the idea of “the rest of the year” much thought before that dream. Over the next few days, I mulled it over and told God my tentative plans for the rest of the year. Pretty mundane stuff: get my blog caught up; finish and record two songs; be the best father I can be; refrain from anything I can think of that will derail this new go-round with divine opportunity. He already knows what I’m going to do. I figure the question was more a way for Him to convey the time frame of Phase II than it was for making small talk in my sleep.
I tried a new brand of hot sauce on my tuna and crackers at lunch. About an hour later I noticed my lips were burning in a weird way. I was at work in the midst of massive responsibilities, and I only half-way noticed the sensation in my lips. I assumed that the new hot sauce had something in it that I was reacting to. A few hours later my lips were still burning. But it was a cool burn, like from mint. I went to the break area fridge and got out the jar of sauce. I checked the label and saw that the main ingredient was serrano peppers. I wondered if I was allergic to serrano peppers. Seemed unlikely, since I’m almost fifty years old and have been eating hot sauce for most of my life. Whether or not I was reacting to the peppers, all I knew for sure was my lips felt a special kind of strange.
Before bed that night, I bothered to apply some balm to my still-burning lips, some ten hours after I’d eating the hot sauce. I didn’t see how the sauce could have still been a player. That didn’t make sense. But neither did anything else. I went to sleep quickly. Six hours later I awoke to the blatant sensation of an irregular pulse of heat in my lips. It wasn’t a steady thing, like a heartbeat. It was unpredictable and REALLY hot. I lay in bed, first wondering if I’d ruined my lips with serrano pepper hot sauce, then daring to think I was receiving a new kind of hot spot.
I got out of bed and went to read some Bible for a while. I fired up my monk Chant CD and settled into my easy chair to read Paul’s letter to the Romans. I grieved that mundane process, owing to it being an echo of my routine from almost exactly two years earlier – when I was living through what was a documented and frightful time of doubt and self-loathing brought on by (OF COURSE) masturbation. That particular months-long grind had ended in June of 2015 with a blast of demonic deliverance and one of the craziest visions I ever had. Prior to that explosion of heaven on my couch in June, I’d spent many mornings waking early to read the Bible and then falling asleep again on the couch, while listening to the Chant CD. Sitting in my chair in February of 2017, I knew that I was living out a loss that wasn’t going to be resolved by expelling a demon or anything else so cut and dried. Whatever years-long process had seen, among other things, the wild deliverance and vision in June 2015, I believed that said process was over and done with. We were ‘starting over’.
I sat in my chair listening to the monks and hating myself. My lips just fired up more and more. I read through several chapters of Romans, and my lips took on a life of their own. I was reading out loud, which I generally try to do since faith comes from hearing. While I was speaking the words of Paul, my mouth and a growing area around it were lit up with a force that couldn’t have had anything to do with my lunch seventeen hours earlier. I figured God was giving me a much-needed ‘Hello’. I guess. I didn’t see any chance it was still the hot sauce.
Over the next couple of weeks, the lip thing came and went. I was routinely eating that picante at work; so I couldn’t ever say with one-hundred percent conviction that it wasn’t the hot sauce making my lips light up with a cool burn.