Nightmare OR too much pizza before bed?

Last night i had that same old dream that rocked me in my sleep
and left me the impression that the sandman plays for keeps
i dreamed i was in concert in the middle of the clouds
john wayne and billy graham were giving breath mints to the crowds
i fell through a hole in heaven i left the stage for good
and when i landed on the earth i was back in hollywood

the california earthquake it tore the land in half
while san andreas cleared her throat i heard tsunami laugh
the ground began to tremble the land began to sway
and people in the other states they were glad they'd moved away
but suddenly california just floated in the breeze
while every state that wasn't sank down into the seas

and soon i saw atlantis rumble and rise high
and the great egg of euphrates came down out of the sky
and out stepped shirley temple with guy kippee who was dead
and that communist bill robinson whom shirley called black red
they have a marionette of harpo marx they said it was an inside joke
but when i honked his horn he came alive and these were the words he spoke

"with the continents adrift and the sun about to shift
will the ice caps drown us all or will we burn
we've polluted what we own will we reap what we have sown?
are we headed for the end or can we turn?
we've paved the forest killed the streams
burned the bridges to our dreams
the earth is bursting at the seams
and in pain of childbirth screams
as it gives life to what seems
to either be an age that gleams
or simply lays there dying
if this goes on will life survive how can it
out of the grave oh who will save our planet?"

i said i'm pleased to meet you i always thought you were a scream
he said "have you ever thought of having helen keller in your dreams
i said errol flynn dropped by but he tried to steal my girl
the she ran off with ronald colman said something about a new world
now i'm stuck with my own cooking hey i'm lonely can't you see
well he grabbed my leg and said exactly eighty nine words to me
count them

"let the proud but dying nation kiss the last generation
it's the year of the pill, age of the gland
we have landed on the moon but we'll clutter that up soon
our sense of freedom's gotten out of hand
we kill our children swap our wives
we've learned to greet a man with knives
we swallow pills in fours and fives
our cities look like crumbling hives
man does not live he just survives
we sleep till he arrives
love is a corpse we sit and watch it harden
we left it oh so long ago the garden"

the strings snapped briskly then went slack the marionette lay dead
while hoover played with the motorcade the body slumped and bled
the man who held the camera disappeared into the crowd
i said the hope of youth, fictitious truth, lays covered in a shroud
then up walked elmo lincoln and he said i beg you pardon
but we left it oh so long ago, the garden, GARDEN, GARDEN, GARDEN, GARDEN, garden. . .

Of course this was not my dream! I wish it was. I wish I could write--or rather dream-- like that. Larry Norman gets the credit for the above “nightmare # 71.”

But I did have a dream.

I dreamed I was working. Surprise, surprise. I had masked off & covered many rooms in a house, so I could work on the ceilings. The plastic was attached to the walls at the very top by the ceiling. I was careful in properly covering everything. But I was having problems with the ceilings. The ceilings were falling down in chunks onto the floor and furniture. But the worst part was that the homeowners were home and IN BED and the ceiling was falling upon them.

I guess my dream too was a nightmare, which might be the reason this song has been running through my mind this past week as I contemplated writing about the dream.

I don’t dream that often. And very rarely do I remember what I dreamed for more than a few minutes after awakening. And I rarely try to interpret my dreams. I usually pass off the "meanings" as reworkings of the day's events.

The evening before the dream, the Swansmith was recounting the events of the backyard Bible club. She had mentioned that a local pastor had brought his kids that evening. (His wife brought them the first night.) We have visited “Efrem’s” church numerous times and Suzi tried to strike up a conversation with him. He is an extremely gifted preacher with a flamboyant style, so Suzi was surprised by his terse responses to her questions. We spoke that evening about people like that who have completely different personas when they are “on stage.” On top of this I was reminded that I had given Efrem a bid on some drywall work many months ago, but I think they have put that project on hold. Is that why Efrem and his wife were the ones in that dangerous bed?

I pray that my dream is nothing more than me sorting out my work schedule and analyzing personality types. I pray that God continues to bless Efrem, his wife, their kids, and their church. Some day I’ll have to jot down my reflections of attending Sanctuary. It’s an interesting place and it’s always fun to hear him preach.