I dream a lot. Anyone that knows me, knows this. As weird as it sounds I pay attention to my dreams because, occasionally, I believe the Lord speaks through them.
If you believe a dream can be any kind of credible source of information continue reading, if not, I wouldn't bother as this will only take you into, the complicated "inner workings of Brianna's subconscious.".
Oct. 7, 2010
Two couples stand by dusty train tracks in France, wearing ball gowns and tuxedos. The first couple, a dark haired talented man, the kind prone to be introverted and relatively unsocial, stands beside his beautiful wife, holding conversation with the other couple. The other couple, myself and the beautiful woman's brother converse in fluent French. (in real life, I don't know French)
It's evening. Several flights of steps lead to a palace balcony. The outer darkness overshadows all the sides of the castle so I can't tell how far it stretches. I stand in the center of a balcony, who's distance must be the size of several houses strung together. One large table fills the center surrounded by lights, suspended on nothing but air. Dozens of people flood the balcony and take their seats at the table. The couple from the train tracks sit across from myself and the beautiful woman's brother.
The room is formal. I sit quietly, nervous.
...An old, small man, enters and everyone falls silent. He is ancient but age-less. He is kindly but everyone sits in awe and fear of him, including myself. I determine that I must like him because he isn't pompous like I'd expect a man to be that owns a palace but I'm afraid because I don't know why he would invite someone like me to dinner. He sits down quiet, at the end of the table, as our host to join us.
As dinner is served a guest pulls the straw out of her drink and stands. She puts it to her lips and plays it like a flute. I marvel, as it sounds exactly like a real flute. She is light hearted, having fun at the table. Our host accompanies her, without any objects, the sound of an entire orchestra comes from his presence. I marvel again as I realize our hosts demeanor and his power, confirming my suspicion, he is God. The mood of the room because cheerful, completely absorbed in the music he makes.
As the woman finishes and sits down I notice the couple across the table from myself. The talented man seems frustrated and mutters something negative about the party to his wife. Reluctantly she joins him in leaving the table. I watch them descend the outside steps into darkness. I am confused about why he is upset and wonder if I should also leave the table.
As I think these thoughts the voice of the host, though he isn't speaking to me, and is sitting at the other end of the table, fills my mind. His voice echoes, "A la parle." and I wake.
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The craziest part of this dream is, I don't speak any French. When I woke up it took me several minutes to realize the phrase that hung in my ears. I googled, "A la parle"...it means, "I am also speaking."
Why did the host tell me he was also speaking? ... What was keeping me from hearing him? Why was the simplicity of playing with the Lord through a straw upsetting the creative genius at the table?
Today my English professor said of poet's, "Do you need to be an addict, suicidal, depressed or manic to be creative?" ...To that I'd answer, "Well, we need to be out of our minds, that's for sure. From there it's a matter of direction." We can explore darkness, then again, He is also speaking.
Creativity always conveys a message. Who do you want to control of that message? If He is, "ALSO speaking," who else is speaking?
I believe we are beginning to hit the frontier of God inspired creativity. It's an opportunity for any willing to sit at the kings table.
Let go enough to discover. Partner with, instead of force and have fun.
