A Dream is a Dream...

I just had the strangest dream I've ever had in my life. Normally I dream silly, funny dreams, but this one is about as serious as it gets. I woke up at 5:45 after the dream and couldn't fall back asleep and now feel compelled to post this. It's a long read but I hope you stick through to the end.

I was in Dubai doing missionary work. Five children, the sons and daughters of a political leader were kidnapped and tortured. Pictures of them began circulating. They were starving, naked, and terrified. Christians began rallying in defense of the children, demanding their freedom. This blossomed into a poverty relief campaign and donations from other countries began pouring in. Soon a Christian revival erupted and hundreds of missionaries came to assist in the soul harvest. Countless people came to Christ.

The government grew afraid of us, paranoid that we would try to take the country by force Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they grew intolerant. It started as a few arrests of key Christian leaders and soon forced the entire revival underground. But still, the fire of Christ swept the country and more and more were saved each day.

One day I was asked to help sort donations that had just come in. As I arrived, I saw someone holding the poster of the five children that started everything. I entered the building and found a long line. I got in the end of the line and waited. As I stood there, I started feeling more and more uneasy (I'm getting the same feeling now, even as I type). The further and further I moved up in the line, the more I was convinced that I was there to die.

I rounded a corner and saw my friend, Jill, sitting against the wall, handing out posters and reminding people to pray for the children. We had shared an apartment during our time working in Dubai. I almost broke down right then, convinced I would never see her again. As I bent down to hug her, I realized that she knew it to.

Finally, I reached a table and a man sitting behind it, marking things off on a clipboard. He pointed to little squares on the table. Each one had a few drops of liquid on it. "Take one," he said, "and follow the line. Don't drink it until you get into the other room."

I did as he said and continued. We filed in silently. The next room we entered was a large reception room filled with round tables. As we started finding places to sit, I saw more and more people that I knew that had come to help with the mission work. I sat down and realized that the liquid on my piece of plastic was poison.

I stood back up and raised my square. "Friends," I began and stopped after I noticed how shaky my voice was. An elderly couple asked me to speak up so they could hear.

"Friends." I started again, stronger this time. "I don't know how much time we have left to together. It seems fitting that we should end our time here on earth in the presence of God. Let us drink together and pray."

We all raised our squares and drank the sticky sweet poison.

We prayed together, thanking God for His mighty hand and great work in the country. We prayed as one until 20 minutes later, we all stood in the presence of the Lord.

Dreams don't normally impress feelings this strong on me. I don't usually think that my dreams have meanings, but I feel like this one might. I'm still on edge from it. Thoughts and comments are welcome.