Today, I woke up late from a dream that meant little to the man whose phone call pulled me out of it. It's disconcerting to sweep imagined rooms and wrestle imagined humans during the better part of my Wednesday morning.
Last night's dream has plagued my mind all day. It has funneled into two questions: What good is a beautiful home built on sand? What good is a beautiful home sore with cockroaches?
Now, when I worm my way out of each dream, I shut my eyes and pray: If this means nothing, let me forget it. But if you need to say something, consume me with your images.
This is why:
Today, I read and reread the backside of the twenty-third page of the journal I kept from July 13, 2010 to November 15, 2010.
The words [unedited] on that page:
Sunday. 09.19.2010
@ church. AM.
During worship/prayer, I remembered a vision I saw in my prayers a few weeks ago, but never wrote down:
I am walking across a beach, parallel with the ocean. Walking toward light. And to my left, the ocean roared and the waves reached the sky with crazy violence. To my right, the tallest of buildings collapsed. Wreckage everywhere. And God, saying, I will not be harmed. Just focus on him. Do not focus on the ruin. Just walk in that cleared path.
Last night, I stayed up revising and revising my manuscript. Also talked to M about our impending beasthood.
"Either give me my destiny
or give me a gun."
Really.
Then on the next page:
Something PM. Sun. 09.19.2010
Nightmares filled with the most anxious of situations lately. So many — too many — nightmares. Even while napping.
That vision, prayed again by me and S just now. Praying that whether the buildings and waters rise or crumble, they will have no affect on us because we're that focused on God.
That was six months ago.
I left the desert briefly this past weekend. On Friday evening, S and I scoured the Internet for updates from Japan. S retold her story of the 2005 tsunami in Sri Lanka, when she was driving to the beach as she got the phone call to turn the fuck around.
As we talked, S — in passing — said, "Oh like that vision you had a few months ago." And we both froze. As though Someone from above took our cords and plugged us into a dangerous outlet. Everything was eerie. We suddenly felt watched. As though a Giant Head from the sky had swiveled our way.
We happened to be in her apartment. This journal happened to be on the shelf in her apartment. I grabbed it. Flipped through it. And sure enough.
