Dreams are strange to me. I know there must be psychological
and circumstantial reasons why I dream what I do. If I fall asleep thinking
about a person or incident, often my dream(s) involve those elements. But not
always. And sometimes my dreams have nothing to do with anything logical or any
past experiences. Dream interpreters have been around for millennia—those who
find intended meaning in dreams: dream journals, dream decoders, dream
catchers. God has spoken through dreams in the past… even for eternally
significant purposes. Even today there are stories of conversions in the deep
parts of the world because God appeared to a man/woman in a dream and told them
or showed them something. Those of us who aren’t Pentecostal are hesitant to
affirm such ‘testimonies,’ but why? Do we not believe that God is sovereign and
capable of preparing a dream for you and me? Yes, there are psychological
reasons, and circumstantial reasons for our dreams, but nothing escapes the
guiding hand of Yahweh.
Recently I had something of a nightmare.
But instead of dreading it upon waking up, I was curious and
satisfied.
Here are two reasons you can try to appreciate your next ‘bad
dream.’
ONE: The “Oh, so that’s how it works” Effect
When we are awake, we could talk days on the hypotheticals:
- What if… zombies started to overrun the world? Would you pack up and run? Would you grab a gun and kill? Would you buckle and hide? Would you accept your fate?
- What if… somebody broke into your house… what would you do?
- What if there really was a giant spider who found its way into your room?
- What if you got in a car crash with your loved ones?
Some of the more incredible ones (like zombies) are fun to
discuss because if we’re honest, most of wouldn’t make it past the opening
sequence in a movie, let alone be the last man (or woman) standing. But in our
talking we are working with hubris and pride and incredulity.
Transpose the same event from dialogue into dreamland, and
you get a different story. In your dream, where you assume that everything is
reality, you respond to a situation as if
you were in that situation. You aren’t telling your friends, “Oh—I would
grab a sword and fight until my dying breath.” Instead… you are actually
grabbing a sword or offering surrender as the case may be. It's the "Oh, so that's what I'd actually do" or the "Oh, so that's how that would work." Sure pride infests
our dreams to some extent, and I may not actually be as skilled in par core as I like to dream, but the ultimate payoff of nightmares isn’t in “jump through the window, tuck and roll, et
cetera, et cetera.”
It’s much more foundational than that. It reveals your
character when hard pressed.
In the tough situations, do I care for loved ones or my own
survival? Am I bold and haughty or am I sly and sneaky? Am I resourceful and
creative? Am I quick or disbelieving? The "Oh, so that's how it works" is subservient to the greater knowledge: "Oh, so that's who I am." And that is very valuable. That shows us where we need to experience the grace of Christ in effecting righteousness.
Of course the very circumstances of your dream may reveal
something about you too: how do you perceive life and the world? Is it kind of
like a war? Like a dangerous (mis)adventure? Like a struggle to maintain family
and friends? Like a monotonous drone with unexpected surprises? And how can your worldview shift to encompass everything God has told us about the world?
TWO: The Numinous
There’s a term in philosophy: numinous. People have used it
in nuanced ways, but I’ll give you an acceptable generalization. The numinous
is the confrontation of an overwhelming sense of spiritual dread: it is a
fearful overcoming. It is a sense of inescapable ill fate.
I’m not sure who first said that horror genre can be party
to the numinous in beneficial ways for the Christian, but I agree. In my
Christian context, the Fear of the Lord,
the trembling at his might and righteous judgment is sorely lacking. I know and
her often that God is compassionate and loving and savior. And I need to hear
it more than I already do. But I also need to know that God is a mighty tempest
threatening to sink me below the deeps; that he is an uproarious earthquake who
can swallow families whole; a King who will make war with the sword from his
mouth. God will bend back the heavens and climb into the world to decimate
wickedness. But I don’t hear that very often.
Horror stories try to revive this sense. I just read I Am Legend and a series of short stories
by Richard Matheson. They fit into this horror genre, and they were absolutely
excellent. And one thing they provided was a sense of numinous. The last man
alive in the world is nightly threatened by the inescapable precipice of death.
The spirit-doll is relentless in accomplishing his dreadful mission—nothing can
stop it and the blade he wields. The sinister husband is wicked. The little
girl cannot suppress the evil dominion of the dress.
And nightmares can do the same. They present you with a
reality of dread, a sense of inescapable, insurmountable fear. Raw power
whispers with serpentine lips, “You will fear.”
Nightmares can instill within us the forgotten knowledge of
a mighty God of raw power. It can show us again that as enemies of God, we were
children of wrath and fear, but in his adoptive care we are utterly loved. It
can give us a fear of disobedience lest we come under the crushing arm of the
God who speaks galaxies into existence, who limits tsunamis, and relaxes tornadoes.
Thanks be to Christ Jesus who is God the Son, for his love
casts out our fear of judgment and replaces it with a solace of his love. His
righteousness replaces our ineptitude and gives us hope.
