I could be good, and I would - recurring dreams, part i
After I got let go from my job at the church last year, I started having recurring dreams.
The dreams arrived every Saturday night for three or for months after my termination. The dreams began as I awoke groggily on a given Sunday morning. A glance at the clock through half-opened eyes rocketed me out of bed and into the hurried actions of getting ready. I was back serving as a pastor, and I was late for church.
Aside: Few people actually spend much time thinking about the wretchedly early hours at which pastors have to arrive in order for Sunday worship services to take place. If the first service starts at 8:30am, the pastors most likely arrive at 7:00am, meaning they have likely been awake since 5:45am. Ironically, God Himself rested on the seventh day. (NB: Yes, I am aware that traditionally the seventh day fell on Saturday. I went to school. Call it artistic license, and leave me alone.)
Still buttoning buttons and tucking in tails of shirts, I leaped out the door and down to my car. I broke traffic laws, and occasionally the sound barrier - Bluey the Buick could really haul in her day, thinking of plausible excuses for my tardiness while en route to church.
After arriving, I rushed from Bluey's cabin in a frenzy and burst into services already in progress. Sometimes I was greeted with faces suddenly relieved of their concern. Other times, I was repeatedly chastised by men who were apparently self-appointed to keep warm God's judgment seat until He needs it Himself.
Typically, I awoke for real sometime after fumbling through a homily of horribly mediocre proportions. Instead of being greeted by disappointed parishioners, I only found daylight peeking through the gaps left by our curtains.
I would assess the time and soon remember that I no longer had anywhere to be.
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