Such dreams.

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In the first dream I saw some of the hatred directed at me.  Close, far, kin, kin of sorts, others.  Some unexpected, some known.  In a world which denies the simplest of truths, only hatred remains for those who don't just see, but profess, truth and will not recant it for a false form of love, money, or even to cover my own failings.  Hatred from those who won't, can't, abide reality is... required.  At least she wasn't with them this time.  So be it.  It stings, hurts, deeply.  But I, as with my Lord, was born to suffer well.  How to do it with grace?  Look upon Him, up on the cross.  Know He still suffers there until the last sinner is in heaven or has chosen hell.  Then... sort of laugh at ones consternation as a mere papercut to the heart, and pray for them.  Or, that is my solution set.
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The next dream was, almost frightening.  I met a priest, or monk priest, running a home for troubled men.  Homeless, often with serious problems which either caused there situation or arose from it.  Initially my curiosity and his fervour for his mission led to an extended conversation.

Some big city, an old multi-story complex, at one time The place to stay.  Mostly single rooms, all with their own facilities.  Starting at $25 per month, on up to $700, greatly subsidized by the state and church in an attempt to rehab as many as possible, at least getting them off the streets and into structure.  He didn't speak of himself much, though I could see lingering shadows.  Had he been one of those men, there or elsewhere?  I could see the shabby echo, almost feel the hunger for a needle or slug of something.  The shabby could have been a learned measure from association, but the hunger could not be.

While I could see him, even that of him in shadow, he knew of me.  What of what he was told, or read, that he believed he kept well hidden.  Actually he attempted to play ignorant.  A few well laid traps undid that ploy.  Lead to a question without being given the answer while I fumbled for it, and he too often hit the answer.  Funny thing?  All those who fall to this... know better.  Even the brightest fall for my tricks.

I simply cut to it.  What do you want.  A bit of fumbling, backpedalling, and then he asked if I would be interested in... employment.  Pay?  The pay is you pay your own rent and food, utilies included which means a solid ac, you do what you can, when you can, including security, and you get no money, gratuities, or else.  So, no pay, literally, of any kind?  Well, two meals a day, if you want.  Where do I sign up!  He wasn't sure, deadpan mockery or the other way.

But, seriously, and I laid out every flaw and health issue which causes some men, women, and doctors to blanch.  As well I have two cats.  Cats are not a problem, for live-in-staff.  As to the rest?  We don't offer sainthood, otherwise those are your issues.  Need help with something we have people to speak with and medical access.  He believed I was good enough.

I told him to begin charging me for the next space available, up to a certain amount, until I could figure out my house and the move.  Increasing to $200 monthly max, until I could get there and figure more out.  He suggested the move was something they could help with.  Then some details, like bringing my own appliances was fine and other such.  Oh, and finally, mass daily, with folk who would help get me to church on time.

I was left to contemplate the immediate and long-term tasks ahead, and the enormity of it all.  Perhaps the end, in many ways, but an end I could live with.
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In the last one a voice pierced my mind.  In through where a third eye would be.  Sharp and fast as a small blade, such as a scalpel, though without intent to harm merely a rush to query.  Why, in a strong yet shaken voice, do you write so as to give me doubts, about you, what you say, even who and what you are.

I could tell this was from one who considers himself not just a friend but an ally.  Hurt, a bit of anger, yet an honest fair question.


When you aren't facing God you should doubt.  That is part of the design of this blog, if also a part of living in a world of sin as a sinner.  Do doubt me.  I am, no matter the depth, strength, surety of my faith, dubious.  Pray I see the light when I go astray, as you see things.  Pray that my weaknesses do not finally betray either of us.  Stay true yourself.  Question me directly when strength is with you.  I may attempt to explain, or not.  In any case, go with God.  I pray we may discuss this, and more, in heaven, brother.
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As mentioned long ago, I am a radical.  His radical, more surely than that can sound, until your tin ear can hear.

How are those for brain pickling.  I'm thinking a spot of brain-smoothing solution might be in order.  Good day.