I was sitting with my wife in the back of an SUV. My mom was driving (she doesn't know how to drive) along a narrow, rocky path. We were driving along the top of a bear mountain ridge, steep on both sides. Mountains were in all directions. I realized in that moment we were suppose to be having a leisure trip to the great outdoors, but may fall to our death at any moment.
Suddenly, the vehicle veared off the path to the right (thanks mom), and we flew off the side of the mountain plummeting thousands of feet. The SUV was turned on its right side in it's free fall, and looking forward I could see the sky. And in that last moment I was thinking to myself "Oh my God, I'm not ready to die. I need to go to confession."
Then I woke up.
Reflection on my Dream:
Before my current health crisis, every month or two we took Saturday afternoon drives in the country, often to lakes or rivers for a picnic, and then stopping and museums or antique stores in historic towns back to the city. I suppose part of the nightmare was grief or sadness we can't do those kind of things right now.
The other more obvious reason was that perhaps there is still dis-ease in my soul. Serious illness will make you face the hard facts of existence, and the purgatorial flames of pain and discomfort it seems have not yet fully purified me.
As I've talked about recently, and probably will make more posts about, I've discovered an affection for St. Padre Pio, in particular because he is an excellent example of how to suffer, but also because the man was and still is a powerful healer of the sick.
Padre Pio recommended to his "spiritual children," ie members of prayer groups around the world attached to his counsel, that Catholics say the rosary every day, go to Mass and communion daily, and to go to confession once a week.
For me those counsels would take some special effort, but I'm thinking if God gives messages in dreams, in that dream last night He was probably saying to go to confession more often.
Which I am going to try to do.
TGIF! Have a restful weekend.