It was night. I was sitting outside, in a large circle, with 20-30 other people. Several campfires were located in the circle (not in the middle, but in the circle itself), but all the campfires had been put out. As I looked at the sticks and ashes in the cold campfire next to me, I noticed what looked like several half-smoked marijuana joints lying in the campfire. Obviously someone had been there smoking the joints earlier, and had simply thrown the joints into the ashes. I picked up three or four joints and stuck them in my left shirt pocket.

When everyone in the circle finally started to stand up, I slowly realized we were all members of a church. I also realized I was the pastor – and the owner – of the church. Despite my exalted position, I didn't consider myself essential to the church and I no longer wanted to be connected to the church: I wanted out. I was thinking of selling the church to the members and I was trying to figure out how to explain to the others how they could buy the church from me.

A semi-truck was parked close by the campfire area. One by one, everyone (including myself) walked into the back of the truck where donations were being left. The truck was filled with stacks of nice things. I specifically noticed piles of sweaters which had been left as donations. I myself had nothing to donate except some sticks which I had picked up from the campfire. Looking for somewhere to lay down the sticks as a donation, I finally saw a pot in which I laid the sticks.

The truck was physically connected to the church, so instead of walking out of the truck, I continued on through the truck into a hall of the church. Once inside the church, I began looked for a door so I could leave. I passed a couple doors, but they were locked. I wanted to leave the chruch so I could go somewhere and smoke the joints which I still had in my shirt pocket.

As I continued through the hall, I passed a mirror and was able to see myself. I looked as if I were in my early 20s; my hair was a bit long. I was wearing a brown belt which was too long and into which I had tied a knot in front.

When I finally entered the main sanctuary of the church, all the other people were already there. I now noticed they were all much older than I - in their 40s and 50s or older. As we all stood together, they broke out into an uplifting song. I listened as they clearly sang out, "Don't give up hope."

This dream illustrates the difference between looking at the church as a symbol of a group of people - such as the dream journal - and looking at it as a symbol of my own mind.

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