Dream of: 11 October 1996 "Dallying In A Church"

history and art

may fortify the spirits

of seekers of god

My ex-wife Louise (married 1984-1985) and I were visiting Spain together, and while we were there, I had arranged for us to take some French lessons. After Louise had reluctantly agreed, I had found a young woman who would teach us French. I was now with the woman in a car which I was driving while the woman was sitting in the front passenger seat.

I had arranged for the woman and me to meet Louise at a certain place at 20 minutes after the hour on the highway which I was now traveling. As I approached the place where I was supposed to meet Louise, I saw that I was right on time. When I reached the designated spot, I saw Louise walking where I was supposed to meet her. She looked very pretty with her dark black hair. She was wearing a white dress, and she looked as if she were in her mid 20s. Unfortunately, when I saw her, I was traveling on the other side of the highway, and the traffic was so fast, I couldn't stop. I blew the horn, hoping Louise would see me as I continued down the highway and looked for a place where I could turn around and come back to pick her up.

Although I was in a hurry to return to Louise and pick her up, the young French teacher and I ended up sitting inside a church where a sermon was taking place. The church was full, and although I was concerned about leaving Louise out there on the highway, and worried that she would leave before I could return to her, I saw no way that I could simply stand up in the middle of the sermon and walk out.

 Instead, I picked up a map of Spain and began looking at it. It seemed as if I were in Madrid, and I was thinking that Louise and I might latter take a trip to the Escorial as I had once done when I had visited Spain. I began looking on the map for the Escorial which I thought was southwest of Madrid. I reflected that the location wasn't a wise one because the Escorial was a fortification and its main purpose was to protect Madrid. Since most attacks on Madrid would arrive from the north, placing the Escorial north of Madrid would have been wiser.

Now that I had scrutinized the map, however, I was surprised to see that the Escorial actually was about 50 miles slightly north-east of Madrid, and lay along a river which flowed southward to Madrid. On the map I could see three red lines where the Escorial stood, lines which apparently represented three long fortified buildings which had been erected as a defense against attack. I also saw red lines which showed the parking places for all the modern-day tourists.

I didn't recall having seen all three buildings when I had visited the Escorial, and it seemed that when I had visited, I had only gone to one or two buildings. I thought if I ever returned, I would have to visit all the buildings; after all, the Escorial was one of the most interesting places in Spain. I recalled how one large underground room had contained the bodies of so many of the kings and queens of Spain, and how the palace had been the home of so much royalty. It seemed strange that so few people knew about the Escorial when so many of the kings and queens of Spain had made it their home.

As I sat in the church with our young French teacher, I was uncertain that she would accompany Louise and me to the Escorial. In fact I was unsure whether I had made a wise choice in choosing this particular woman to be our teacher. She was probably in her early 20s and attractive, but I was uncertain why I had picked a Spanish woman to teach us French. It seemed I would have been better advised to have chosen a native French speaker. I had the feeling that the woman had studied French for many years, and that her French was indeed excellent, but I was still concerned there might be slight nuances in the French language or in the sound of the language that she would be unable to teach us.

The woman was sitting right next to me on my right at a little desk which looked like a desk at which grade school children might sit. In the little storage space under the desk was a small book. Without anyone seeing me, I pulled the book out and looked through it. I could immediately see this was an old reading primer which belonged to my young French teacher. I quickly deduced that this was a primer which she had had when she had been a little girl, and that she had kept it all these years.

When I began flipping through the primer, however, I was surprised at the content. First, the primer was in German instead of Spanish. I couldn't reconcile this with what I knew about the woman, but I concluded that for some reason when she had first started reading, the writing had been in German. Second, the pictures in the book were very different from the kind of pictures I remembered from my own childhood primers. The pictures weren't really pictures at all, but rather little raised carvings or statues. Although the book was small, somehow each page contained an elaborate carving, and each carving was the representation of a whole story. Very few words were written with each carving. Apparently students were to be drilled on the few words which they would learn in the context of the whole story. Although I wondered about the efficacy of such a method, I at least found it interesting.

As I slipped the book back into the storage space under the woman's desk, I noticed she was speaking German with a fellow sitting right on the other side of her. I began listening, thinking about how much I liked German. The woman then turned to me and introduced me to the fellow. He was probably in his late 20s and he began talking with me in German in a friendly manner. However I didn't much care for the fellow. I noticed his shirt seemed somewhat unclean. Plus I began to wonder what kind of a person he was if he actually came to this church regularly.

I myself was wondering why I was even in the church and why I was dallying when I needed to get to Louise. I was afraid if I didn't get back to her that she would leave. Since a minister, however, was standing in front of the congregation and giving a sermon, I felt trapped. When I nudged the woman at one point, however, hoping we could leave, she indicated that the sermon was just about to end, and that I should be patient. I sat back and waited for a few minutes, until finally there was a break and the people began to rise. I was unsure they were rising to leave, and I thought they might just be standing up to sing a song. Nevertheless I quickly headed toward the door with my teacher, and we escaped.

Once the teacher and I were in the car, we finally reached the place where we were supposed to meet Louise. I asked the teacher what time it was and she said it was 10 minutes before the hour. I was a half hour late! Louise was nowhere to be found; she had simply disappeared. And I wasn't even sure where she had gone. I had dallied too long and now I didn't know if I would be able to find her.

Dream Commentary of July 16, 2016

The Lord may guide us in our dreams. Just as some people are guided to attend a church, so are others guided to write their dreams on the Dream Journal, a place which may bring one closer to the presence of God, even for those who do not believe in God. As a church might promise to do, so the Dream Journal may actually enhance the clearness of God's messages for those who closely listen.

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