Sunday April 1. 2012
I had a dream the other night. I was on a bicycle. I’d gone off the beaten path, the known and familiar; down a hill, into the back lots of commercial buildings, unafraid, adventurous, admiring the abilities of the bike I was riding, made for the journey and the rugged terrain. Sure I knew my way, I followed some railroad tracks for a while as a guide, going through a tunnel aware of my end if a train were to suddenly come, but having made it through, the tracks begin to bend away from the route of my destination. I decide to continue my journey away from the bend in the tracks and toward my route once again. Just as I do, a train barrels mightily towards the tunnel. I got out of the tunnel just in time, avoiding my demise. I can no longer travel by bike, as a large building marks the end of the bike path and obstructs any further travel. I must enter the building to get back to street level and my destination. The building inside seems to be an old abandoned theater; dark and dreary. I don’t like it there and am unimpressed, even with its old ornate architecture. Even in its heyday it would have been unimpressive to me. Nothing stands out as beautiful or attractive. There are many rooms, and I enter one after another trying to find my out. None of the rooms show the way out. I stumble upon one room where a lone barber stands cutting a mans hair, and many solemn faced men are sitting in chairs waiting. It seems depressing to me. I leave that room opening a door, and in the next room there are even more men waiting outside of the first one. The sight intensifies the feeling I had in the first room and I want to get away fast. There is an ominous feeling and I don’t want to be there any longer. Finally, I open a door to what seemed to be an old , grand ballroom at the other end of the large room. I see a window with light shining through, a door with windows. But I have to walk across a weak, rickety, hole-filled floor to get to the door. The floor is dangerously close to caving in as I carefully walk across avoiding holes in the floor. At one point the floor gives in beneath me and I am in danger of certain peril. As my legs dangle beneath the hole, I peer down into the hole, past my dangling legs to see what is beneath me, but I see nothing but darkness and what seems an infinite abyss. It is then somehow I pull myself up and out of the hole and finally reach the door where I kick and break the glass, kicking desperately to make sure the hole in the glass is large enough for me to crawl through without cutting myself on the jagged edges of the windows frame. I then, suddenly, notice that the door is open and all I have to do is simply step through and out on to the street. I am out on street level into the bright sun and the colors of the day away from the drabby grey of the theater. I am free! I meet a group of friends and tell them my story. A girl is a part of that group, although not with them, it seems, but is studying somewhere the Bible. I and the group of friends are outside talking. Both her home and the place where she studies are within our sight and we are between the two places.