Help! Police!

My weird dream this week reminded me of a weird dream last week. In that one, I was  

A. On foot

B. In a “bad” part of town

C. At night

D. At Burger King

E. With $1000 in cash bulging from my wallet. 

As I’ve mentioned before, it’s always fun to try to tie in my dreams with what’s happening in my life. This is a tough one. I’m never on foot. It’s not just that I’m too lazy to walk (which I am), but our house isn’t really walking distance to anywhere. I try to stay out of “bad” parts of town. My grandson is afraid to go in “rich” areas. Sometimes the apple falls way far from the tree. I tend to stay away from areas where drug deals are happening. I am rarely out at night or at Burger King.

Most fantastic of all I never have $1000 in cash bulging from my wallet. In my dream, I tried to pull money from the wallet with no one noticing I was “loaded.” It didn’t work as I was walking away with my Whopper in hand, and stuffed wallet hanging out of my pocket, I was jumped by scary looking youth. When you are my age, it should be noted, all youth look pretty scary. I shouted out “Help.” “Police.” Then I woke up. It was so real I woke my wife. She said I was yelling something but couldn’t make out what it was. Glad she’s not a cop.

Maybe the point of my dream wasn’t my unusual circumstances, but the thought that we ought to be willing to call for help a lot more than we do. In fact, it’s one of my pet peeves. I am very uncomfortable at church, for example, when everyone just smiles and says how blessed they are. You know most everyone is struggling with something and could really use some help. It’s just a case of churchy icorrectness (not to be confused with political correctness) to never ask for help. It’s apparently very politically correct to ask for help, especially from the government.

I don’t know if the police showed up in my dream. I like to think my brothers and sisters would show up if I let my needs and concerns be known and that I would respond in kind to the needs of the people whose love is supposed to be a witness of my discipleship.

If I see you at church on Sunday, don’t tell me “I’m great” or “I’m blessed” unless your life is perfect, because if it is I’ll probably ask you for something, like $1000 to stuff in my wallet. That will teach you. If you do have a problem, try not to discuss legal problems with me. My hourly rate is $200 and my timer tends to go off automatically.

 

 

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