I dreamed about the accident last night.
More, it was the aftermath I dreamed of. There were these stairs that loomed high above, and a building--like you would find on a university campus--and I just knew I had to be there. Being wasn't the problem, getting was. The climb up the steps was excruciating. I found myself frequently out of breath, often crying, constantly in pain.
I felt the pain in my dreaming.
The throbbing, aching, burning...you know that list the doctor says to check "which one" matches your symptoms? I could check them all in my dream. The hurting was extensive.
But I pressed onward and upward.
At the top, there was a waiting room and I happily sat and waited. I saw others with illnesses clamoring to go first, and I let them while I caught my breath. I waited and I watched.
And then it was my turn, and I stood, determined, and told my story. I wanted to see a doctor. I remember saying these exact words in response to the question: why are you here today?
I said:
I do not want to be in pain for every second of every day for the rest of my life.
I will not give up.
I need to move on.
With just two days until the first anniversary of "The Big Day", I find myself growing more resolute in some things. I have decided, too, that I am growing up in my faith. I can't comment too far on that. Some things are simply too much to describe. But I know that I am growing, and up seems like a better direction than where I have felt these many months.
One other thing from the dream that is noteworthy, then I am off to do something pressing.
I was alone.
Yes, there were people everywhere around me--in fact, quite busy like a campus.
But it was up to me to move in the direction I felt led. And up to me to choose to stand or sit. No one to consult, to cajole, to caution, to condemn. It was to me that the growing up was left, and even in my dream, I wasn't laying down to die. I was resolved to continue walking in His will.
