Nov 05, 2010 06:36
I normally put descriptions of dreams down as private posts, but I thought people might enjoy reading this one.
I mentioned the back fields to the Bible study last night, so of course I then dreamed about it. We went out there (Mom and Chris and I, Mom and Chris with cameras) b/c they were going to start building out there soon. It was late spring, and everything was very lush. And people were shooting off fireworks while the sun was setting, and there were things like new baby trees I'd never seen back there before, and other oddnesses, like giant trees suspended from sky, and sparks that flew down out of the sun that you could touch. One of them, shaped like a butterfly, was even made of some sort of antimatter, and POPPED loudly when Mom touched it.
Then the unicorn showed up.
We were very startled at first, until we realized it was actually slightly deformed (it had one horn straight up off the crown of its head, and one sticking straight out to the side, much further down its neck) and actually belonged to Charlie (our neighbor, who keeps horses and goats). We determined it was some kind of pony (it was the size of a mini, only proportioned like a horse) bred as an amusement. And somebody had dyed some of its white fur bright pink. But it was FROLICKING all over the fields and the edge of the woods, and it was extremely friendly: it came right over and wanted PETTINS an CUDDLES.
Then we (which by this point included some first and second cousins, my little twin and her family, and some aunts/uncles/great-aunts and -uncles, went off taking walks in the woods, and there were these gorgeous bright orange tigerlilies growing everywhere, and the kids and I were crawling around through the thick part of the woods, exploring, and everything was wonderfully lush and green.
It's when I have dreams like this that I sometimes wonder if I'm actually seeing partial visions of the New Creation. I mean, as far as I know, everybody who was in the dream is going to be there, and the earth will be, too!
dreams,
contemplation