The Gift – A Glimpse of Heaven in a Dream

We all dream. Each and every night we drift into “REM” sleep to rejuvenate our brains and work through troubles of the day. Over the years, I have always had a recurring dream. In this dream, I am usually driving somewhere that seems familiar, but is still not home. In the distance is a large, menacing wedge tornado, which is usually bearing down on me and children in my care. Each time, I am both fascinated and terrified of the phenomenon and find myself anxiously racing to find safety for myself and others. In the dream, the tornado grows bigger, more violent, and closer and closer. When the tornado approaches us in our place of safety, I wake up and instantly feel disappointed to realize that I have no way of knowing the outcome.

The tornado dreams began in my childhood and still continue to this day, with one change, I survive the tornadoes and successfully find the best way to protect the children and others. I’m sure my psychologist friends would have theories about that, but my guess is that I no longer fear bullied in my life. 🙂 I started living through the storms shortly after my divorce and my dreams have become less and less about my inability to control the outcome or to know the outcome.

A Dream and a Gift from God: A few nights ago, I was given an incredible gift….a gift that had to have been from God. I believe this. I was with my brothers and sisters in the Spanish choirs and we were walking on a path through heavy vegetation near an ocean. We were preparing for an outdoor mass and had put on long, comfortable, white albs. As we followed behind the priests and deacons and walked down to a beach area, we passed other musician friends of mine who had finished services for another denomination, each one admiring our simple albs and bare feet. One friend in particular, stopping to give me a big hug, told me of his admiration for my guitar and guitar strap, which had a handsome celtic knotted inlaid design. “Exquisite” Dianne…simply as beautiful as you are talented. “Praise God I said,” as I walked on.

When we reached the clearing, I saw a beautiful cove area carved by nature to provide a natural amphitheater with dark, volcanic rock walls. The sand was fine, soft and almost powdery to the touch and the water was beautiful baby blue, grading into deep blue and purple water. The sight was beyond words to describe and people, in a variety of beach wear, were both in the water and on the beach waiting for the mass to begin.

Beyond Words: My Spanish choir friends and I were playing guitars and singing God’s praises, during a Catholic mass, on a beach. The mass was simple, but deeply spiritual. The priests and deacons wore white albs with green ropes and stoles. All liturgical ministers wore white albs with green ropes (very cool by the way), which was a clear indication of ordinary time in the liturgical calendar. We were all barefoot and I could feel the sand all over my feet…not itchy like usual, but very, very soothing, cool (temperature) and very relaxing.

The music we sang was not traditional language or styles from Mexico or Central America. It was a language that I didn’t recognize, but it was beautiful and I seemed to understand the meaning of what we were singing. There were full bodied harmonies and the voices had the flavor and depth of an organ. It was as though we were in heaven. Simply beautiful. One of the coolest dreams I’ve ever had. Thank you Lord!

The mass ended and I woke up as the sun was going down on the cove area.   The tide was moving out and lots of white crab looking critters began emerging from the exposed sand and walking toward the beach. The sight was not threatening and the critters were not menacing in the least. It was simply a beautiful, natural signal that the day was ending.

If that was a glimpse of heaven, I can’t wait to go. Wow! Praise God for this beautiful gift.