I seem to dream a lot more than I have for years; the Lord
only knows why. I went for years without dreaming or remembering that I did
dream, much less what it was about. Maybe getting older has something to do
with it, but it can be enjoyable, fun, scary, informative, or reminiscent. Sometimes
it seems to be a mere story I’m involved in, but at other times it makes me
think during the next day or so about what it meant or was trying to teach me.
When I began studying the Education for Ministry (EfM) program in 2005,
I was introduced to many different ways of deepening my spiritual life through various
types of prayer, contemplation, meditation, and reflection. Over the years, I
have found that writing has been one way I felt my spirituality growing and
deepening. When I wrote about dreams that I had had that seemed to stick with
me even after awakening, I gained new insights into my beliefs, thoughts, and
life itself.
One morning I woke after a particularly vivid dream. I’m not
sure how it started, but I remember being a slave in China at some point in its
history. I was sent to a temple to work. I was given the job of moving a large
porcelain turtle from a stand to a cart. I tried to lift and balance it for
transfer, but it slipped and shattered on the floor.
I remembered that I was a slave with no rights, no
ability to speak, and only harsh words and beatings to look forward to. I knew
breaking the turtle would earn me many stripes from the canes and lashes, and
that I might die as punishment for being careless, unlucky, or perhaps even overburdened
for my size and age. Yet, as terrified and also as sorry as I was at the time,
I felt I needed to be humble, to accept my fate, and to try to move without
collapsing or staggering. I woke up at that point and spent most of the day
trying to coax the ending out of my subconscious, to no avail.
Where did this scenario come from? What was it trying to
tell me? I knew that as a slave, I had
no choice as to what I could do, as overseers and others beat people such as me
to the point of complete submission. However, the humility I felt was coming
from something else, like I had heard someone speak of a sage who encouraged
humility from everyone, regardless of their status. It didn’t feel like I had heard
of Confucius or any other holy person calling for such action. Still, as a
slave, I would not have had the opportunity to hear much of anything other than
curses and orders. Was my resignation to my punishment simple capitulation?
What I remember from the dream was that behind the
resignation and hopelessness, there was still a glimmer of something, a feeling
that someone or something was behind me that was greater than I and that even
if I suffered and died, it would matter to someone greater than any of those
who would execute me. Of course, I had never heard of God or Jesus, for that
matter. Still, as I thought about the dream, it seemed that that moment in time
was when I first became aware that even if I were utterly insignificant in the
world, I still mattered to God.
I know I was supposed to learn this lesson from my early
days. After all, hadn’t one of the most sung Sunday School songs been “Jesus
Loves Me”? Yet when I went upstairs to church services, I was continually reminded
that I was a sinner, no matter how good I tried to be, and that God did not
like sinners. It was a lot for a small girl to take in. It took many years and
experiences to even get to the point where this dream would have any meaning
for me other than to put me in the place of a slave to learn how hard and
dismal such a life could be.
Revisiting this dream has once again allowed me to mine
it for other insights. But, unfortunately, I cannot pretend to understand or
empathize with those who actually lived and suffered as slaves, even those closer
to my own time or in the area where I grew up. Try as I will, and as much as I
read about slavery and its ramifications, I still can only imagine what it
would be like, much less truly feel the pain and suffering. Perhaps that is something
I am supposed to consider more – what it meant to people of that time on both
sides of the color line, and how it now needs to be revised to accept all
people, regardless of color, ethnicity, and so many other characteristics, as
equal, Children of God, and worthy of being accepted as such.
I’m impatient to see what the next dream brings me. I know
that I still have much to learn in the time God gives me on this earth. Maybe I
will finally have all the answers when the end comes, or perhaps it will just
be another learning opportunity. The older I get, the more curious I get about
that. Meanwhile, I will continue dreaming and contemplating.
God bless.
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