Around 3:45 this morning I violently jumped out of what I wished was a nice deep sleep. I don't typically remember my dreams, a lot is going on in my life right now and I suppose my subconscious is telling to slow down a bit.
Like I said, I don't usually remember my dreams, but when I do they are normally just silly, random dreams. Not this morning though. As I'm writing this, just over an hour ago I was ripped from sleep with the vivid images of my youngest son taking off on his bike really fast when a car turns the corner. I see the car and yell "STOP!!!" And before his little bobbly helmet head could maneuver out of the way he was being slung up in the air, over the hood, and into the ditch.
I'm still shaking. I'm still drying my eyes. I'm still trying to erase the images from my mind because I know they are not real. I tend to overanalyze things so I'm refraining from turning to Google and explaining what this nightmare means. Mainly because I already know what it means. Ya see, just before I thrashed out from under my covers I saw myself drop to my knees and pray. I didn't run to help my son. I ran to God for help instead. He would help my son.
I admit that I'm not sure how I would handle that situation in real life. The thought of not running to my son is confusing, but the thought of knowing God was going to help us is comforting.
Now, maybe I can drift off to a more pleasant dream. I've got a fun filled four day weekend ahead. Until then...
by Jessica Dudley
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