Do you dream?
Well, maybe that’s the wrong question; after all, we all dream. But do you remember your dreams when you wake up?
I rarely do. Most mornings I have no recollection of any dream; at most I might have a vague sense of having dreamed…something? And it was…anxious? Pleasant? But not much more comes to mind.
Our daughter has been struggling with anxiety over all she has to do if she’s to finish high school a year early this year, as is her plan. (Or should I say, her dream?) It’s been hard for us as parents to watch her struggle, wanting to take it all away and make it all better the way we used to be able to do for her when she was tiny. In some of my own darker moods I fear her dreams of going off to college won’t come to pass, at least not now.
The other morning, I woke and was immediately aware of a dream I’d had in the night. In it, I was watching as from a drone as a Saturn V rocket–the ones the old Apollo program used to go to the moon, still the most powerful rockets we’ve ever made–slowly came to life and began, majestically, rising on a pillar of fire past me and towards the heavens. And somehow in my dream I was aware that my daughter was on that rocket, and I remember I felt relieved that it had launched and that it was flying the way it was designed to fly.
On reflecting on it when I awoke, I chose to interpret that as a reassurance from God: there won’t be a “failure to launch” here, he said. She’s gonna be OK. I got this, he conveyed to me.
Fly, young lady, fly!