To Dream
Ahh, the dream life. Fleeting visions and dreams become encouragements and warnings, and as they arise from our innermost longings and fears, they arise from our relationship with God. Or perhaps they were sent from God, especially when we ask.
Last Friday, one of the prayers was for a guidepost to whether we should allow a house show in our home in two weeks, and to allow the founding members of Insomniac Folklore to stay in our home for a few days. It would indeed make us accountable to finally clean that room in the basement.
I arrived at an old brick building on the outskirts of some town, and the landscape was that of sand and semi-arid vegetation, like palms, cacti, yucca, short succulents, etc. It was rather cold, however. I heard that Bethra and Rico were playing at a show, and I was to meet them there, as they might need a ride.
I could hear muffled music coming from inside the old brick building, and it seemed like we were behind it, with a few other homes around us. I’d seen this Florida-type landscape in at least one other dream. There was Rico, working over a fire with a large, braided basket caked in some sort of paper maché, and he was heating or curing it over a fire. The fire was set inside a large, steel trailer, short and rectanglish, the kind one might pull on a bike, if someone were to invent such a thing. One half of this trailer seemed to be reserved for woodfires set in a large bowl.
Then Bethra was there, and she was curing something over the fire as well. Rico said, Yeah, we’ve been making these for some time now. Actual coals were now in the bowl, glowing hot, and he shuffled them up into the air, the way a chef might with some vegetables in a pan, flipping them without the use of a spatula.
He emptied the coals from the basket and put the basket up on a shelf that was constructed out of wood and brick, and at the bottom I noticed Fynn playing with something. Both were busy at work. I got the distinct impression that they were working well as a team – Bethra weaving the bowls, and Rico adding a shell on the inside and wood-firing them to finish. It also seemed like they were travelling. They were more like prototypical gypsies, with their newborn son strapped to Bethra, and Rico wearing something which made him look more Mongolian – homemade for sure.
I see this as a confirmation that the Lighthouses will not only be able to subsist by relying on their talents as artisans, but will thrive as God's artisans, providing more than ornate, usable crafts to those that come. There is grace and provision in the making, prayerfulness and meditation along the way, and perhaps frustration, but perseverance for sure.
Last Friday, one of the prayers was for a guidepost to whether we should allow a house show in our home in two weeks, and to allow the founding members of Insomniac Folklore to stay in our home for a few days. It would indeed make us accountable to finally clean that room in the basement.
I arrived at an old brick building on the outskirts of some town, and the landscape was that of sand and semi-arid vegetation, like palms, cacti, yucca, short succulents, etc. It was rather cold, however. I heard that Bethra and Rico were playing at a show, and I was to meet them there, as they might need a ride.
I could hear muffled music coming from inside the old brick building, and it seemed like we were behind it, with a few other homes around us. I’d seen this Florida-type landscape in at least one other dream. There was Rico, working over a fire with a large, braided basket caked in some sort of paper maché, and he was heating or curing it over a fire. The fire was set inside a large, steel trailer, short and rectanglish, the kind one might pull on a bike, if someone were to invent such a thing. One half of this trailer seemed to be reserved for woodfires set in a large bowl.
Then Bethra was there, and she was curing something over the fire as well. Rico said, Yeah, we’ve been making these for some time now. Actual coals were now in the bowl, glowing hot, and he shuffled them up into the air, the way a chef might with some vegetables in a pan, flipping them without the use of a spatula.
He emptied the coals from the basket and put the basket up on a shelf that was constructed out of wood and brick, and at the bottom I noticed Fynn playing with something. Both were busy at work. I got the distinct impression that they were working well as a team – Bethra weaving the bowls, and Rico adding a shell on the inside and wood-firing them to finish. It also seemed like they were travelling. They were more like prototypical gypsies, with their newborn son strapped to Bethra, and Rico wearing something which made him look more Mongolian – homemade for sure.
I see this as a confirmation that the Lighthouses will not only be able to subsist by relying on their talents as artisans, but will thrive as God's artisans, providing more than ornate, usable crafts to those that come. There is grace and provision in the making, prayerfulness and meditation along the way, and perhaps frustration, but perseverance for sure.
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