Throwing Apples

I have been having a nagging feeling that my father still had power over me. I thought of Jesus, who, as his ministry was taking off, his family came “to take charge of him,” thinking him, “insane.” I felt like…my dad could do that. I feel like this journey has been amazing. But…could my dad just walk in one day and say, “That’s it! Come home! It’s over now…” Part of me feels like it would still listen to him if he did. I thought again of Jesus: going to the cross, He knew he had to face the devil: but he was unafraid, knowing that the Devil, “has no hold over me.” …but could I say this of my dad? It seemed like he still had a hold over me. I preached in our church last sunday. Before preaching, I had this anxious thought: what if dad showed up? What if he just sat and sulked in the back? Or took me aside and said something right before I went on? Or texted me? Or even showed up, and yelled from the back, “this man is not worthy to speak!” Something like that?  I f...

As I reflected more on the post, “ When a Child Falls Down the Stairs ,” I thought about the fact that even as a very small child, who had just gone through a potentially life-threatening event (falling down the stairs) my dad did not react in the way a normal parent would have (anxiety, concern) but laughed at his baby son, leaning upside down against the wall on his head. He told this story over and over. It was like a family joke.  I began to realize just how unhealthy my father was. Is it possible that he is a psychopath? A person who feels no sense of moral duty? Or is he simply very disconnected from the feelings of others, as is typical of narcissism? I thought briefly but intensely of the fiery cauldron of rage that was in him, when my older brother’s first wife left him (denying my father of his grandkids ). I have never seen anyone possessed by such hatred, while he fought in every way possible to win the kids back through the court system. As I thought of these...

I have prayed for a spiritual covering, and to be robed in Christ Jesus. I want to look “from a distance” at this dream. We will see how far the Spirit allows me to go. The scene for this dream (when I woke up) was a Christian summer camp I went to in my teens. However, before that there was a cabin in the woods. It was not really a cabin: more of a shack. Warped boards, leaning crookedly against each other, lifting up towards a thatched roof creating an impossibly small space. It was a witch’s hut, and there was a witch in it. A boardwalk ran from that hRouse to the main chapel.  There was something about a mark on my hand: that I too had the gift. This is the part that really felt “off” to me as I tried to write the dream earlier. The earlier portions of this dream have faded, like they are off limits to my conscious mind. Or simply forgotten.  I do remember that I knew the witch. It may have been my mother, but…no, it was not my mother. But it may have lived ...

I have been processing a lot  with my parents. As I do, I have had quite a few symbolic dreams . Some I would categorize as emotional processing, some may have been spiritual warfare . This one was both. I am posting here my first, unprocessed recollection of the dream that I wrote immediately upon waking. This dream really  stuck with me, and I returned to it an analyzed symbols in my journal days later. These will be the subsequent two posts. I realize that this dream won't completely make sense to people without the intereprtations: but it may be interesting to read it as is, then compare with how I interpret it. I would be interested in reader's interpretations of my dreams/images. Keep in mind that I had this dream immediately after my session with my wife , where I cut ties significantly with my mother.  The Witch at the Christian Summer Camp The first dream was the worst. I had been at a place — maybe a summer camp. A horrible witch was there. B...

I had been having dizzy spell for months now. Very faint, but enough to bother me. Because I tend to be a hypochondriac, my mind immediately was going to worst case scenarios (cancer, mostly). My rational brain knew this wasn’t reasonable, and so it kept trying to stuff the symptoms, and just forget about it. But stuffing it was just making it worse. Finally, last week, I told my wife about it. It seems that they had been getting a bit worse. She suggested that it may be wax buildup, and sent me to the clinic to have it checked out. The nurse said there was no wax, and referred me to the doctor. When she came, the doctor — a young last of East Indian descent, compassionate, intelligent, and f ully engaged in her patient — began asking a lot of very piercing questions about my mental health. My wife and I had already talked about the possibility that this could be psychosomatic (aka a physical condition caused or exacerbated by mental/emotional factors), and so I was not offended b...

Please god deliver me in every way from the emotional, spiritual, social, generational, financial, material, and social media influence of my parents.

Nightmare I was woken up at 4:00 am with a nightmare. I had killed her. It was a little evil woman that had been tormenting my wife and I. I don’t remember all of the dream. But this little evil being had been part of a conspiracy against us. Her words were so evil. Finally I grabbed her by the neck, and squeezed. Just enough to make her stop talking. I can still feel the wrinkly, stale filth of her body under my hand. Her neck felt like squeezing a roll of very old leather. She had a very prominent Adam’s apple. It is thus that I squeezed. But this was part of their plan. They had weakened her neck, and it broke, and she died. They had won because now I was a murderer. The little being — “a vexen, I thought” even though I’m not sure what that means — was about the size of a baby, but all grown up and withered like an old woman. But even now she wasn’t dead. Maybe she wasn’t a thing that could die. But she was dead enough to condemn me...I was a murderer *** I also su...