Sometimes my dreams are so vivid that I can’t distinguish them from reality.
Like last summer when I was training for my first half-marathon. I had this recurring dream that I was walking, and for whatever reason could not pick up my legs to move them. I had to just drag them, using every ounce of everything I had. It was scary, that dream. And it felt so real that it left me wondering for weeks what was wrong with me and hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t flare up in the middle of the race. I still sometimes wonder if it was real, expecting my legs to just cease working at any given time.
Funny thing about dreams : the more real they seem, the more details the imagination fills in, the harder they are to distinguish from reality.
Furthermore : bad dreams often equate with fear or anxiety. But good ones represent hope. Things you can’t wait to actually live.
I have this dream of getting published someday. It’s restrained by fear that it will never happen. Because fear and hope, although polar opposites, sometimes go hand-in-hand. Like sweet and salty. Only, rather than complementing flavors that make each other taste better, these two flavors oppose. And I am faced with the Iron-Chef task of mixing unexpected flavors to create the most delicious gourmet dish. So I can serve it to my Maker.
The One Who gave me the dream itself.
What do you dream about?