And the Sign Said

So a few weeks ago I had this dream.

Aw, man! Can there be anything worse than a blogger jawing on about some dream she had? But stay with me – there’s at least a song at the end.

BTW: professionally I coordinate events for a library.

So in this dream, I’m at work, but I’m also in the building that, when I was a kid, housed my church. (You know, dreams – it can be both.) I’m lost in layers of tasks when one of my co-workers tugs on my sleeve and says the caterers are here early, and I’m not set up for them yet. “Jesus Christ, can you just give me a minute?!” I exclaim in supreme frustration.

I immediately feel regretful about this outburst in the dream, as I daresay I would awake. But my co-worker has gone off, and I better go corral the caterers before the whole event gets away from me.

I hustle down a long hall, weaving in and out of side rooms, like classrooms. The church building of my youth has classrooms, and it also has these vibrant primary-color stained-glass windows. They’re a little hard to describe, these windows: not like the line drawings in a lot of windows, but more like jagged chunks of bright color jammed together to form impressionistic scenes.

StA_RoseWindow2

Anyway, in the dream every inch of each classroom is painted with the colors of one of those windows – brilliant, dominant, overpowering, especially a rich red one with some battered elementary-school desks hanging around.

I reach the event space, which also seems to be the sanctuary, but it doesn’t resemble the real-life version of either room. The entryway is a huge open area, but it’s packed with people straining excitedly to hear what’s going on inside. And no wonder: it’s a huge choir and orchestra singing this song. (Yeah, Christmas, but a sentiment for all seasons.)

The only free space is sort of up a decorative stone wall level with my waist. I excuse myself through the throng and ooch along the wall till I can peek around a corner at the musicians. I can’t really see the ensemble, but only a corner of the surface behind them, behind the altar. It’s sandstone color and decorated by a tacky pale blue neon sign that was sloppy to begin with and has also seen better days. It droops toward the floor and flickers. In my handwriting, it says

Love_Everything_Big

I wake up weeping happy tears.

No, that’s it. What were you expecting, a punchline?

Then how about this: “The words of the prophets are written…in the flash of a neon light/that split the night…”


This is one in a blog series called Metanoia Season. Click here for the list of related posts.

2 thoughts on “And the Sign Said

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