God be in my sleep, and in my waking

I’m still half-asleep as I’m writing this; I’ll edit it later, if necessary, when I have time.

I’ve had a series of dreams, lately, that are not of my usual surreal variety. These dreams are direct, and clear, and I can’t miss the presence of God in them. I just had another, which I’m still waking from. Usually, the implications are deeply personal, and I wake up with some kind of epiphany that applies first to me. The last one or two times, I shared them with a friend (who reads this fairly regularly), then wrote the epiphany here. This time, it’s universal from the beginning, and I’m just going to tell it.

In my dream, I was writing the soteriology paper that in waking life I need to finish. I took a break from it, and rode my bike around the block to clear my head. (This would never happen, in reality.) It was very early morning, there wasn’t much traffic.

There were, however, two young men lying on the sidewalk, at a particular intersection. They were signaling something to the cars that passed by. I thought they were being idiots, and they were in my way. (It didn’t occur to me that I was crossing on the wrong side of the street.) One of their arms was flung over the (whatever you call the dip between the sidewalk and the street, that makes it easier for bikes and wheelchairs to cross). I waited one light-cycle. I think I told him to move; in either event, he didn’t. So when I got the green again, I ran over him.

I could have avoided him, easily, but I was being edgy. He said, “Ow,” but he didn’t get up, or do anything about it. I knew that what I had done was wrong, and I was totally surprised at myself. (In reality, I never would have done this.) What I said, in the dream, verbatim:

“Whoa. I just ran over some guy’s wrist. And God still loves me.”

Okay, I’m writing a soteriology paper. I’m thinking about salvation. But really, now. In my dream, I should have gone back and apologized to the man I ran over. I was so struck by the Presence, that I didn’t. (Yep, I’m thinking of the nine lepers, too.) In my real life, both waking and sleeping, I’ve been having experiences right and left that are this immediate. I can’t look at my own life right now and not see God. But I knew right away, this gift was not mine alone.

We can all be—excuse me—complete fuck-ups, and God still absolutely loves us. All the time.

I can say the words, and I can tell you how I know them—as surely as I know anything I can see or touch. I wish I could share the certainty. I think I was supposed to share this story; so perhaps something in it will find you, if you need to know that you are loved, where and how you are.

God is in, and with, and for us all.