A Dream

I had a dream the other night, a few nights ago I think. Though I do not know if it bears any significance, I feel I should write it down, for every once in a while I have dreams of darkness, as I like to call them. It was pretty sudden, and it was not long after I had fallen asleep. I found myself blown down by a rushing wind, and I was in the house I grew up in, in the room that my brother and I shared. I was in the middle of the room on the floor, next to my dresser. Now that I think on it, it is astonishing that the room in my dream is just as I remember it in real life, when most of my dreams distort a lot of the details. There was malice in the wind that pushed me down, and I couldn't move and I could barely speak, and I could feel the darkness around me. As usually happens when I feel this, a kind of righteous anger brought my spirit awake, or at least that is what it seems happened, for I have no way of really defining it. I grunted through the dark wind that kept my mouth shut, but managed to mumble angrily, "Get out!" The darkness receded under my bed and back by the wall that I was facing and I saw a black image like a cat rush under my bed. But it did not leave. I stuggled to force commands out of my mouth, telling it to leave in the name of Jesus. When I finally managed to do so, for it took some time, I woke up, shaken, and it still took some effort of will to move my limbs around in my bed. That was it. I don't know if it means anything. If it was really a spiritual attack, I don't know why it was done, nor if it accomplished anything for anyone involved. If it was just a dream, I still don't know what brought it on. But I needed to write it down. So here it is. It was only about an hour since I had first went to sleep, and I thought that strange at the time, too.

Adept at avoiding the solution

I seem adept at making excuses for myself. There may be a thing I want to do and should do, but I seem to find an excuse to do something else. How far can I justify my follies. But how can I really do that which I am 'meant to do' if I really cannot say with certainty what that is? Ah, but I think I do know. I was thinking about my purpose, and I believe that I am meant to show people the wonder of God. I don't know what that means completely, and then again I'm stuck with not really knowing what I'm supposed to do with my time. I guess I'm just really discontented, and I seem to be adept at avoiding the solution.

Perspective

It seems like I constantly go back and forth between different ways of thinking. This is something I find very fascinating as well as very discouraging. Not because I do not remain consistent in my perspective - I would hope that it would be changing and becoming better throughout my life - but that I seem to have no control in the matter. On one day I speak strong enough to myself to avoid bouts of anger or to rein in my waywardness. But other days, I find no such strength. On some days I can put a smile on my face through a fresh perspective, but others I cannot overcome the set of my thinking or my mood, in order to wipe away all my surliness. How is it that this is so? Should I not become more adept as time goes on at controlling both my perspective and my behavior? Have I somehow, at some point, thrown myself at the mercy of life's experiences and abandoned discipline? But I wake in the morning, and sometimes the voice that used to say that I need to do this or that, no longer says such things. Was that my voice, which simply went away with the changes time made of myself? Or was it a spirit's voice of conscience, abandoning me to let me drift in the waves of perspective. I do not mind changing perspecive. It only bothers me that there seems to be no levels. I have not experienced greater levels of perspective and lesser. I simply shift back and forth in the way I think and who I am and how I act. Is this the evidence of an unstable mind? Or is it simply evidence of a man not satisfied with himself or with the world?