Brock stared at Morgan and whispered to his friend, “I have to get control of that dream. Get rid of it. My dad scares the snot out of me every time, and I’m tired of it.”
“What’s coming, Brock?”
“I don’t know. I wake up every time before he tells me.”
“You’ve had the dream more than once?”
“Five times in the past five days.”
“Wow, someone wants to get your attention.” Morgan leaned back and put his hands behind his head.
“This is God’s way of saying hello?”
“What does Karissa say about it?”
“I haven’t told her.”
“Why not?”
Brock closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto his chair. “I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Why not?”
“Morg?” Brock cocked his head and opened his eyes. “Give me a break.”
“No worries.” Morgan held his hands up. “What did you see and feel in the dream? Not with your mind, with your spirit.”
Interesting question. On the surface there was nothing more than what he’d told Morgan. But underneath, there were layers he couldn’t put into words.
“Like I couldn’t stop whatever my dad says is coming, and yet I have to try.”
“What else?”
“It’s as if I was higher . . . I don’t know how to describe it . . . The dream was clearer than it should have been, if that makes any sense. It gave me hope and fear at the same time.”
“Yes.” Morgan smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I was there. I saw my dad, but not only saw him, I saw deeper. As if I was seeing the true self that was buried while he was alive. The dream was the most normal scene you can imagine. But it felt like I was touching the past and the present and the future all at the same time. And what he told me didn’t come from me or my subconscious, it truly came from my dad. Do you understand, Morg?”
“It was like he was alive. In the present.”
“Yes.”
“But he looked young. In his thirties.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re thinking he’s talking to you from heaven.”
“No. It was just a dream.” Brock’s head lulled back. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s why I’m talking to you.” He clenched his fists. “So what he said . . . Was that a warning from God like you suggested? Or only a chemical reaction inside my head as I slept? And if it was a chemical reaction, could God have his hand on it? Maybe he orchestrated it?”
Morgan said in a sing-song voice, “ ‘The place where dreams and reality intersect, where the dream is immersed into the reality and is no longer a dream. A place where the infinite reaches us beyond the limitations of our mortal coils.’ ”
“What?”
“It’s a quote from a book I read six months back. Thought I told you about it.” Morgan twisted in his chair, stood, and scanned the bookshelves that ran across the back wall of his office. He shuffled a few feet to his left, reached for the highest shelf, pulled out a thin volume, and tossed it to Brock. “Here.”
Brock caught it and looked at the cover. Lucid Dreaming: Turning Dreams into Reality.
“What’s this?”
“Read it. Amazing stuff in there. Keep it, don’t need it back. It’s yours.”
“What’s lucid dreaming?”
“Read it. It might help you deal with the dream. Figure out what God’s doing.”
“Do you know what my dream meant?”
“Maybe.” Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “If I’m right, you’re in for a ride.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Just a feeling. Read the book and see where God leads you.”
Brock tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he wove through the darkening streets toward home. Why were there always more questions than answers when he talked with Morgan? He supposed it was the price of friendship with a man so well read and probing.
Morgan’s intuition was rarely wrong. Which meant the coming weeks would be a roller coaster without any chance to get off. As if he didn’t have enough tension pumping through his veins at work, and even more on the home front.
The journey continues in
The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Christophoto, Bothell, WA
James L. Rubart is a professional marketer and speaker. He is the author of the bestselling novel Rooms as well as Book of Days, The Chair, the Well Spring Novels, and The Five Times I Met Myself. He lives with his wife and sons in the Pacific Northwest.
Website: www.jameslrubart.com
Twitter: @jameslrubart
Facebook: JamesLRubart
The Long Journey to Jake Palmer Page 31
