I had a dream last night.
Another in a decade-long series of recurring dreams.
Most of these dreams are indistinguishable from one another.
Carol and I would go see a house. I would begin opening doors and discover a room. And another door, and another room. A stairwell. And another door into another room.
After awhile, it would become obvious that no one had been in these rooms for a very long time. The furniture would be from the 50s or 60s, slightly dusty, untouched through the decades.
Every door leading into another room.
And another door.
After a few years, these dreams shifted a bit.
Instead of visiting the house, we had just moved there. I would open a door I’d somehow not seen before.
And so on.
About a year ago, the dream changed. We’d lived in the house for awhile and we already knew about the extra rooms.
In this house, many of these rooms were in complete disrepair. Leaks and cracks and open ceilings. Missing light fixtures.
Last night, the dream changed again.
We’re having a cookout.
Lots of people. Lots of conversation. Music. Laughter.
Suddenly I feel overwhelmed by the crowd and I sneak off into the deserted parts of the house.
And I see all the disrepair. Abandoned appliances from the 1950s. Broken furniture.
Some strange contraption hanging from the ceiling in what once must have been a dining room.
It feels like life used to be lived in these spaces, but no more.
I stand there, taking it all in, wondering.
Then I see them. My friends from the cookout, looking for me, looking around with the same wonder I was feeling.
They have measuring tapes, and step ladders, and saws, and paintbrushes—and I see friends conferring, going away and coming back with some new item or tool from the home improvement store.
Mind you, they don’t ask my opinion about any of this.
They just do their work.
Finally, it’s too dark to continue and we step out onto a hidden terrace one of my friends found, and relax together under the stars, taking in the peace and beauty of a rediscovered place.
When I awoke this morning, I realized the message of the dream.
I bet you already know.
The house is me.
And half the friends in my dream—I haven’t even met yet.
Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.