God gives vivid dreams.
[ I entered my Grandparents house on Trumbull Street and walked into the kitchen. My Grandparents were not there. People were talking out back, gathered by the rear door. Someone I did not recognize was in the mud room (the area between the kitchen and back door). In the kitchen were several people, again none of them familiar to me. These people may have been gathered for an auction, unsure.
After I had noted where everyone was, I slipped through the stairwell door to head upstairs. At the top of the stairs I walked past the window, the bathroom and into the ‘prune room’ (a spare bedroom w-purple walls). I placed my clothes on the second bed (the one closest to the windows), then walked back to the bathroom and brushed my teeth; all ready for sleep.
Returning to the room I noticed that on the floor, next to the bed (the bed nearest to the door) and nightstand (but not blocking the attic cubbyhole door) were two items.
One was a ring-binder notebook. The other was a steno pad.
Once snuggled in bed, under a heavy wool blanket (just like when I was a boy) I reached down and picked up the steno pad. Inside was a note in my Grandmothers handwriting. I do not remember what it read, but it was for me. The ring binder notebook was small with metal spiral binding. It was old and worn, the back and front cover stock were of light green cardboard, showing heavy creasing. I opened it.
Inside were handwritten notes, also in her writing. It showed that she used whatever writing instrument was available at the time; pen & ink, ballpoint and pencil too. Each page had a child’s name, their birth weight, total length and the measure of their newborn feet. I saw her children’s names, including one who did not live. Those were followed by the names of her grandchildren.
My name and notes were there too, on a page that seemed to open as if marked. But it did not intrigue me, so back onto the floor I placed the notebook “Just notes about babies” I thought. And I went to sleep.
On waking – I got up and glanced once more at the two items by the bed but did not yet pick them up. I looked around the room; all was as it should be. In my usual way I rushed to prepare for work, dressing quickly to get out and into the morning commute. When leaving the ‘prune room’ I glanced across the upstairs landing to the room where I usually slept when staying at the house. The door was open and the bed was a mess of tangled sheets, just they way I would have left them. Hmm.
Once downstairs and through the stairwell door I noticed that many of the same people from the day before had congregated in the kitchen again. I said “Good morning”, then walked outside to my car and drove off to work. ]
Praise be the LORD. It is said that a vision has no purpose without interpretation.
(August 11, 11:30am)
This morning I went for worship on the trail at Latourell Falls. It was quiet time with my Savior. I basked in His peace and at one point said “thank You” for the vivid dream. Such a marvel. Then I mentioned thanks for being once again in the Trumbull house, as I have not been there in 23 years. Also thankful to ‘feel’ the bed just as Grandma used to make for me, all cozy and tight under the wool blanket. And even though they were not ‘home’ – just revisiting was delightful. Done. I pondered it no more.
Some time later on the hike I found a secluded place just off the trail to kneel and pray. Though my words started out as worship and praise, it was during that time in prayer that God unfolded the meaning of this dream.
Mildred lives on. She still loves me. She gave me a gift.
That book recorded all of her children and grandchildren, my eyes noted the names. I saw my name, my length, weight and foot measurements. She made me the cozy wool-blanketed bed from my childhood. She even left me a note (and I so wish to have remembered it, for it was but a single line of text). She showed me my birth record, in her handwriting.
…ON my 53rd birthday.
Only in prayer was the meaning of this dream given by God.