Dude, Dreams Are Weird

Man, I had this dream last night where this reformed drug dealer became a pastor; began a church for drug dealers and the like and was coming to me for counseling.

I think I watch The Sopranos too much ...
Or maybe the Psychopathology class I took last night has gotten to me already.

So this pastor is coming to me for counseling.
He's wanting to have this Christmas something or other at his church, but he doesn't know how to put it on. (It's a dream, so I can't remember the specifics)

So we are standing outside his church by a tree.
He's telling me how he wants to leave the ministry.
But the place is packed with drug dealers, hookers, homeless, and the like.
As we're talking this guy comes over to us and starts thanking him for all the work he has done in the church and if it wasn't for him, he would be dead.

I woke up. Sorry.
And I know I could have gone back to sleep and finish the dream, but I have never been able to do that; I have tried, but I just can't do it.

I'm not much of a dream interpretor, but if I had to guess, I'd say my brain put together a very interesting scenerio. Very interesting.

Almost everything in the dream is something I have thought about.
I've thought about renting a bus and driving down OBT to pick up people for church service.
I know it sounds silly, but everytime I drive past the Parlement House, or anywhere down OBT past Rio Grande, I just can't help but want to do something ... I just don't know exaclty what yet... or how for that matter.

There's this place on OBT towards Apopka, where you can rent buses. It's just past this statue place. ... But how I would actually get them on the bus and to C3 is another story.

It's a dream ... it's far off in the distance, but it's there.
How it began....
I've never told anyone this. So here it is. My secret dream.
(not a secret anymore, I guess)

One time, I remember this girl who came to my man's shop.
She was really a he, but I didn't care.
Her name was Starling. My heart broke for her.
She was crying and wanted to go home; which was somewhere about an hour away.
She asked me if she could use my phone to call someone ... and told them that she wanted to come home ... and asked me at the same time if I would take her ... I said yes.
But then, I was getting alittle skeptical and asked if I could talk to her friend.
I didn't want to be a missing person report on the local news, if you know what I mean.

Her friend said he was a great guy and wouldn't hurt a fly.
I asked if she would be there to pick him up when I brought him home, she said yes.

When I started to drive Starling home, she wanted to stop at the hotel to pick up her stuff.
She got out ... talked to the manager ... came back to my car ... cried some more ... and in that moment changed her mind. She thanked me. And I asked her if she was sure she wanted to stay.
She said no and left.
I never saw her again.
I cried deeply after I drove away.
Contemplating whether or not to go back.
And every time I pass this hotel, I pray for her.
I pray to one day see her again.
I pray for others like her.
I pray for a way to help them.... to see them.

How do you convince someone you barely know to go home, make amends?
How do you convince yourself and this stranger that the person on the receiving end (in this case, her mother) will accept them back with open arms?
I don't know these answers, but I do know living like Jesus and showing them that we accept them as they are is a start. At least this stranger knew someone loved her for who she was in that moment.

While in my car she cried, laughed, swore, cried some more.
Her story is so similar to all of us.
She was abused, unloved and hurt by those closest to her.
She was unaccepted for who she was.
Her mother abandonded her at her greatest moment of need.

Her pain was great.
Her pain was real.
Her pain was deep.

Her pain was the same as any one's pain.
The pain of rejection, unacceptance; it's the same for all of us.
No matter who you are; gay, lesbian, straight, bi, homophobe, skeptic, critic, homeless, vegabond, transvestite, pastor, teacher, student, black, yellow, red or white
... mother father sister brother friend ...
The pain is the same.


The pain is the same.
So, some day, God knows, maybe ministering to the vegabonds of OBT is where I'll be.
My counseling office ... a big yellow bus.
My boss ... Christ.
My pay ... treasures in heaven.