Praying in a Dream

Maria’s Dream

Walking purposefully, I turn right and enter a building that feels like my old high school in Virginia. A man is standing close to the doors as I enter, and he looks at me, but I pass him by. As I turn left down a main corridor, I wonder what he makes of an older woman striding into a high school like she belongs there, but it doesn’t really matter. Then I become aware of my house slippers flapping annoyingly. Bending down, I remove them, and slip them into the pack I intend to be on my back. Then I pull out some sandals, which I also intend will be in the pack, and put them on. Now I can continue on my way.

When I pass a large corner room on my right, I turn around and peer trough the open door into the brightly lit space, which is occupied by a handful of people, mostly women. “Who’s in here?” I ask lucidly, and when they only look at me, I add, “Is there anybody interesting in here?” Apparently not,  so I continue toward the front desk. Every person I see looks like a one-dimensional dream character, or an empty stereotype. Time to head outside. I can see the exit, and daylight, but two foyers stand between me and freedom. I think—Oh no, hoping the building won’t continue expanding and trap me inside it. Fortunately, it doesn’t, and as I walk out the door I think—This really is a dream.

A few yards away is a busy street, and rising over it on the opposite sidewalk is a tall red-brick church. To the right of this urban cathedral (my left) stretches, for two or three blocks, a structure attached to it, also of red brick. Walking toward the street, my eyes on the church, I say, “My Lord!” Immediately, my words are quietly echoed by a tall, dark-haired man walking toward the building I just exited. I glance at him, but otherwise ignore him as I speak out loud again, not caring who hears me, “I love you, Lord!” As he passes me, the man says to me, “I haven’t heard those words from you before.” The remark strikes me as sarcastic, but not in a negative way, almost like a gentle reproof that it took me this long to do what I’m doing.

When I reach the curb, I glance down at my hands thinking that I’m sound asleep, and have no reason to wake up soon, but I still practice a stabilizing technique—as I had imagined instructing my brother to do if I found him in a dream. I notice then that I’m wearing a watch, and curiously study it’s face to see if I can determine what time it says. 1:04. Interesting, as I know it’s probably after 5:00 in waking reality. But I quickly look away from the watch and, focusing on the dream space again, I begin flying slowly, about a foot or two above the traffic, which is speeding to my left. As I pass over one particular car, the driver and his companion both gawk up at me—a woman flying across the street! I find this amusing; it’s been a long time since dream characters noticed me flying. I smile down at them, and coasting in peaceful slow motion, land on the opposite side of the street, in front of the red brick building  adjoining the church.

Then, suddenly, I’m caught by a dream current that propels me, as swiftly as the cars, along the sidewalk away from the church. I am facing the street, and just above the low, urban buildings on the opposite side, I can see the sun, low in the sky, flashing sharp golden rays as its light is obstructed by structures, street signs, etc. Interlacing my fingers, I pray, “Lord, please help my beloved brother!” I lose sight of the sun. “Where are you?” I ask, and the building that blocked the light is left behind. “I know we are all one, Lord, so for You to heal him, would be the same as healing me.”

My intent to pray for my brother in a lucid dream fulfilled, I arrest my headlong flight, and land on a plot of grass beyond the sidewalk. A quick glance tells me this is an ideal place to try and fulfill my second intent of making a portal to Sean’s house. Before me is a short round metal tower, flanked by a smaller metal building, and I know both structures are electrical in nature. I should be able to use their energy to fashion a doorway in the tower that will lead me to Sean. Unfortunately, I wake up.

Dream Notes:

Maria: That morning, just as I finished typing my dream – and before I emailed it to him – I received the above link from Mario, my brother, to a page of his photographs (some of which I have inserted into this Post) with poetic captions. His Prayer Sprouts felt like a beautiful, sacred continuation of my lucid dream, the second time I have prayed in a dream. Mario had been working on these poems yesterday, and that night, my dreaming mind mysteriously reflected them.

Mario: Thank you for your beautiful dream prayer! I wrote these prayers poems right after the first time you prayed in a lucid dream. I hope I can experience a dream of consciousness mingling/sharing with you!

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