my favorite dream...

...begins dismally. I'm either climbing up through a false ceiling in a dark, cramped, rodent-infested closet or I am ascending a gloomy staircase into something like a turret, with tiny windows along the way giving a view that triggers vertigo. Chipped paint and cobwebs show that this route has not been recently taken, let alone maintained. In that respect, it is much like the condition of the closet. Both variations of the dream's introduction have me going through a tiny trap-door opening at the top of the closet/turret. I climb into what I presume will be an even grimmer attic. Every time, to my surprise, this "attic" is ridiculously more spacious than the underlying structure warrants. Also, it is lavish and beautifully prepared for occupancy: heavy and rich wood doors and floors, huge vaulting ceilings, Persian rugs and elegant furnishings. A strange but somehow natural light suffuses through the closed, frothy curtains covering rank after rank of tall windows. As I explore, I find that each room is more breath-taking than the last. I feel like a child who stumbled onto a fairy castle, a castle kept long, but spotlessly ready, waiting for its inhabitants. I am thrilled to have "discovered" the place, thrilled to have it all to myself.
In times past, I had this dream frequently...at least 3-4 times a year. After each occurrence, I'd feel light-hearted and unusually joyful the whole next day. One time about a year ago, I had this same dream, but this time other people found their way into the attic behind me. My initial reaction was disappointment. Having these people come to me and want me to help them find their own "places" in the castle took away the magic and made my own place there that of a servant. It was the last time I had the dream.
In time, I came to realize the dreams were a question: would I take the beautiful spiritual world I have indeed been given and share it with others? Apparently, my subconscious initially said, "no." Since then, my conscious mind committed my will to the challenge of making myself available no matter what my subconscious desires might selfishly be and no matter what the personal sacrifice of intimacy and freedom. Since then, God has orchestrated a series of unusual events, books, people--to bombard me with opportunity to strengthen this "will to serve" that I've committed into His hands. I've prayed to have the dream again, in the hopes of being a better "hostess" to weary climbers. I miss the dream enough now that I'd be happy to share it, if it means I, too, get a part of it again. Oh, to have it just one more time...but even that is a sign that I haven't quite "got there" yet. I'll probably have it again, the very day I forget to want it...Isn't it strange for a dream to be that powerful over my waking life?
Today, I think I hit a landmark of growth in the lesson of the dream. There is an interchange between Christ and Mary Magdalene in the book of John that has always stumped me. It seemed out of character to me for Christ to speak as He did to her. When Mary realized she is seeing Him back from the dead and responds by crying out "teacher--" and apparently reaching out to Him, He says to her "Don't cling to me..." I, in my insecurity, have always seen this as harsh, like He is pushing her away for being too needy. This probably explains why initially I could not "share" the attic. What if I were found to be too needy once others were also there? But today, for the first time, I can envision another possibility. Instead, might He be saying, "We are so close--and you are now so like me--that I want you to take the next step...really be like me by separating from me...even as I separated from the Father...leave the comfort of my presence and go address the needs of others in My name."
Chambers, in his book, Daily Thoughts for Disciples says it this way: "...our Lord would not allow Mary to hold a spiritual experience for herself, she must get into contact with the disciples and convey a message to them..." Not pushing away, but inviting an even deeper oneness. That I can see this now--is it a sign that I am growing into deeper truth? In my ongoing study of Crabb's book Inside Out, I noted today that "Christian growth requires that we surface the tendency to demand [things that we see as justifiably ours from the God who should provide them.] " He claims we must identify that "demandingness," look courageously at the ugliness of it (if we even have the capacity to see selfishness as ugly any more, rather than adopting society's penchant for embracing it as successful independence,) and by an act of will abandon it...then brace ourselves for the test of whether or not we really meant it. (grin) I think I'm coming along...but this one is not easy. Fortunately, I have the memory of a fairy-tale castle to inspire me.