Dream of Life and Dreams of Death

In the morning of April 1, 2012, I awoke about 2:30 from a dream that seems profound. I've had other dreams that seem similar, but this one was significantly different to warrant comment. Please note: This is NOT an April Fool's joke.

I was in my garage, which, contrary to its state in waking reality, was clear of equipment and clutter and bathed in a bright light. I strove with some frustration to correctly park a riding mower, trying minute adjustments and coming up just wrong for several attempts. As I worked, a large black SUV appeared in front of the open doors of the garage. It looked like a Hummer but was about three times their biggest size, and its headlamps projected a sort of darkness into the brightness of the garage. I got off the mower to investigate, when a man shape appeared around the corner of the house and came into the garage.

The man, if so it was, was garbed all in black, with a robe at least calf length, and its face was either masked and cowled or invisible due to the darkness of the vehicle's headlamps behind. Cautiously approaching one another, it suddenly turned to me revealing only the lower face, and it was hideous. All I could see clearly was the lower jaw, which looked like a skull without cover of skin or whiskers, leering menacingly at me. We circled cautiously until at one moment the being lashed out at me with what from its arm's motion I took to be either a flexible rod or a whip.

Repeatedly it struck at me, but surprisingly I felt nothing, not even a whiff of a breeze indicating passage of the weapon (for weapon it surely was). Still, I became frightened, and in our continued circling dance I sought a weapon with which to defend myself or attack my adversary, at last reaching for a device on the wall I will describe: Two handles separated by a double spring perhaps 30 inches long, used by me in times past for isometric exercise where by pulling apart, one's arms and chest are strengthened.

I wielded this weapon against my unwelcome and belligerent visitor, but with no more result than he had with his supposed whip. After several attempts at damaging my foe, I realized the futility of my efforts and lowered my guard, standing passively while he continued to strike at me for a moment. Then, as I watched, he slowly became less visible and corporeal and eventually faded back.

Above this point I merely describe the dream as I remember it. Below I venture into interpretation.

At this moment I awoke and began to ponder the dream. I have occasionally had dreams of being attacked, and in some cases saw my death from gunshot or snake bite or stabbing before waking in a sweat of anxiety. This time upon awakening my anxiety was less and I was able to recall the whole dream where before I was in such a state of agitation to be unable to recall the dream clearly or remember much besides the fact of my demise.

In my recollection of the dream this morning, I felt less outmatched and fearful than usual, saw my foe more clearly, and was able to piece together the sequence of events coherently as never before. It seems that spiritual forces had arrayed themselves against me and invaded my home, in the form of my “man cave,” as so many men consider their garage or workshop. The garage was more clear of “stuff” than it is in reality, and the task to which I attended was of minor importance but of increasing frustration for me. I recalled even later the brightness of the space, as though arc lamps filled every corner of the garage, whereas in reality I have but a few fluorescent bars arrayed here and there on the ceiling.

I noticed the darkness of the headlamps of the vehicle that appeared, at least in comparison with the light in which I worked. The headlamps seemed to suck the light from the space, but could not induce darkness in any corner of the room. It was a large vehicle, truly oversized but of a shape familiar in Hendersonville, that of a huge Hummer or Range Rover.

The visitor who attacked me was man-size, not imposing but of average height and build, clothed or draped in black, whose face was unseen behind mask, hood, or plain darkness. I can not tell what weapon he wielded, but described it as best I could from conjecture. My own weapon was merely the first thing I saw that seemed to have a chance of holding off this apparition, found hanging on my wall among many small tools of various utility. I struck at him with force three or four times before I realized the thing was useless against him.

It is difficult to understand my decision to become passive, as in previous dreams where I was attacked I had always tried to fight tooth and nail against inevitable death, to the very point of my demise. And this time the attacker did not triumph, but faded from my sight almost before I awoke.

My interpretation follows and seems right to me, although I would listen to any other that comes to the mind of the reader.

In all my dreams of this nature, as I busy myself with the minutiae of life, spiritual forces attack me intent on slaying me for whatever reason – perhaps that I am available for death or in the way somehow. In all such dreams prior to this, I am overwhelmed by these forces due to my own sin and determination to protect myself physically, and die forlorn and with resignation that there was no power capable of redeeming me. Since I looked merely to my own power and redemption, I was a dead duck.

This time, for the first time, I did not feel my attacker's whip or bar, and although I attempted to fight back as on all other occasions, I quickly realized that I was not being harmed, dropped my own useless physical weapon, and passively confronted my adversary, who, lo and behold, dissolved before my eyes in his own ineffectiveness! The garage never darkened, I was never wounded, and though I was unable myself to drive off the attacker, he was, nevertheless, driven off.

I think that by spiritual forces not of mine, I was redeemed and the adversary driven away. There is but one source of such spiritual power, and though I need not name Him, I do so because of the sweetness of the Name and appreciation of what He has done for me, conquering that enemy that I though trying throughout my adult life could not drive off myself, and suffered many defeats instead. Jesus Christ, Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, King of creation is His name. I am not ashamed of Him.

What is it that brings the boss of the universe to my succor, me being although repentant, still a sinner without a full heart for my fellow men or even a thorough understanding of my Savior? The answer is Grace, the answer being known to all who seek Him through whom the physical world came to be for us to inhabit. Grace of Christ, who in my dream has shown me that He truly forgives me and desires that I live and not die. Praise Him with great praise!

My opponent(s) in all these dreams must be an imp of satan, bent on my eventual and eternal destruction. By such manipulation within dreams, the imp teaches me to despair and to go down fighting, as though I could redeem myself through my own efforts. By strife and desperation we are vulnerable to to its strategy of death for all of mankind, but by Christ, in whom all things are possible and only goodness exists, we become impregnable to such machination and lies.

I think the garage signifies my life, with all its pointless minutiae and frustrations. The garge being clean and clear of clutter represents my thinking in Him – the ability to focus on Christ allows me to clear out the debris of my past sin and allows the light to enter. Never in previous dreams, where I found defeat and death, was my space so clear and so bright that darkness could not penetrate it.