Thunder
Not many things are more sleep-inducing than waking to rumbling thunder. If it’s complete with the sound of rain on the roof, done deal: roll over, pull up the cover and go back to sleep. I thought that was happening this morning, but there’s no roof above me, so no pitter-pat of rain. Must have been part of the waking dream. I love dreams, some of them, and a few in my lifetime were so vivid and emotional that they’re as lodged in my mind as any regular memory.
I also love Bible stories involving dreams. We aren’t reading them this year, we’re reading the Court Reporter’s stories of David, all of them memorable, some of them emotional, even gut-wrenching. But one of these years the Lectionary will take us back into Genesis, my favorite Old Testament book, and the dreams of Jacob, and of his son Joseph of the technicolor dream coat. Also, at ChristmasTime there are the gospel dreams of another Joseph, visited in dreams by an angel as Matthew enriches our heilsgeschichte. I love dreams.
There was some dream with my waking this morning, but I don’t remember it. As most of my dreams do, it evaporated with my waking imagination of distant thunder and rain on the roof. But, again, the dreams that I do recall are as much part of me as any other memory. I’m just thankful that I still have enough of a mind left to realize the difference, that they were only dreams, and only mine, and not shared by whoever was in the dream with me.
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