I dream a lot; I’ve said this so many times over the years, but today it bears repeating.
This past year I had a dream about the ultimate sense of peace, an enveloping, calm, stillness that padded me in a peace that I have never experienced in real life, ever.
I dreamed I was in some sort of “floating on a cloud” space, surrounded by blue sky and fluffy clouds. Perhaps I dreamed about my death, my act of crossing over to the other side?
There was a silver doorknob in the clouds within reach, just a few, short steps away, but I simply stood there, experiencing the kind of peace that I have never had, nor heard anyone ever talk about. I had no more mind-racing agendas, no regrets, no thoughts of the shoulda-coulda-woulda’s, no drama. There wasn’t anything that detracted from that moment’s experience. There was nobody to worry about, there were no “To Do” lists, no babies crying, no distracting technology, no background noise of a refrigerator humming or water running; my mind was not racing at nano speed to keep on task. There was simply a nothingness, calm, peace. I remember a part in the movie, “City of Angels” where Nicholas Cage is greeting and guiding a little girl in the hospital who had just died. She glances in at her grieving parents and tells him, “They won’t understand.” He assures her, “They will.” I didn’t have any of those thoughts; there were no loved ones in the space I was in to greet me. I was simply in a totally calm state, nothing swirling in my brain, just a quiet peace, where my brain was totally still and I was gazing at that silver knob, tucked away in those fluffy clouds.
I obviously woke up, but this morning I’m wondering what that experience was about? Would I have passed on had I walked through that door? Was it God’s way of showing me that I don’t always have to drive myself 100 miles per hour, every waking moment of my life? Sometimes I stop my daily busy, sometimes frantic pace and ponder that dream and remember the overwhelming sense of calm and ultimate peace I felt in that moment. I remember to breathe and calm my brain, and though I may never in this lifetime get to experience that again, it helps me to remember how it felt. It helps slow me down, even for a moment.
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