Church dream

Last night I dreamed that I was back in my own church.
This is a recurring dream and usually involves some sort of mortal danger like giant robot ants.  This last dream was different.
I walked into the church building of my childhood and was greeted by family, many of whom have passed on.  They were all smiling and giggling.  This is normal.
My grandmother’s cousin, whom I adored, introduced me to her wife.  That was not normal.  Everyone was talking about how much they loved her and appreciated the work she did in founding the church.  Instead of the hushed and reverent tones when people of my church talk about “the Brethren”, of whom my Grandma’s cousin’s husband was a prominent and unemotional member, there was respect but none of the sacred set-apartness.  This was a woman people aspired to be like but weren’t afraid of in the least.
I was shown around the church.  It was breathtaking!  The windows let in light, colour bounced around, and the woodworking was amazing!  There was a spiral staircase made with all different sizes of polished branches.  I felt as if I were in a woodnymph’s sylvan palace.  All this was thanks to the woodworking genius of my Grandma’s fun-loving cousin’s wife.
In reality, our church building is shades of dead browns, not living ones.  The town people also call it by the perfectly descriptive title “the haunted house”.   It looks more like a caricature of one, although less so since my dad did some landscaping around it.
Then the singing started.  Not the usual draggy tempo that slows by as time progresses leaving one to contemplate Einstein’s theories between words.  It was genuinely happy and some of my atheist friends were joining in.
Also, two of my cousins (one is a fake cousin) welcomed me instead of the polite shunning I am getting used to from them.
Instead of feeling ominous dread and the need to run for my life, in this dream I felt as if I’d come home to the home I was always looking for.
Apparently my brain sees the homophobia, sexism, isolationism and anti-intellectualism and lack of art appreciation as the only drawbacks to the church I grew up in.  Perhaps it wouldn’t have existed without them, but how wonderful a place it could have been.

4 thoughts on “Church dream

  1. Donna Banta says:

    It sounds like you’re moving on! I have the recurring church dream too.

  2. TWF says:

    I’ve never had a dream about being in church, but I think Donna is right. 🙂

  3. Zoe Bloomer says:

    My dreams about the church have all but vanished. I use to have them all the time. One of my favourites took place in the church nursery. I lost something. A precious jewel. I looked and looked and looked for it and finally found it. 🙂

  4. prairienymph says:

    Donna and TWF- I hope so 🙂
    Zoe- I like that dream. You can use it as a metaphor for all sorts of things.

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