It is vain for you to rise up early,
To retire late,
To eat the bread of painful labors;
For He gives His beloved sleep (or: even in their sleep). (Psalms 127:2)

So I had this dream between then and when I got up for good…

I start getting that feeling.. that feeling which urges one to “take control” of the situation. You know: be the grown-up. The sensible and mature person. The one who brings order to the chaos.

So I intervene. ::Grab a plate from the closest kid’s hands:: Although he doesn’t seem alarmed by my intrusion, he also makes no effort to stop his taste-testing. I try this several times… but only succeed in spilling food all over the floor.

My good intentions bring only a big mess. I finally see this, and reluctantly restrain myself.

(I get the same feeling which sometimes comes over me when watching a kid play a board game using his own “custom” rules. The little voice whispers: “does it really matter what the rules are, just so we have fun???”)

In this case of the food, the thought comes, “I don’t have the gifting/authority to do (organize) this!”

Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me. (Matthew 18:1–5)

———-
We (myself and two others) crouched in the bushes by the side of road. It is night. Up in front of us stood a tall fence, with bob-wire on top, the road running up to it, with a large, sliding fence. We were waiting for something.

Then I saw a man climbing the fence, and reaching over the top. He was cut and bruised, with scraggly hair, a dirty face, and blood all over. I ran up, climbed the fence to meet him, and assisted him down. He can barely walk, so one of his arms is over me head, and I pull him along.

The gate opens. A group of young, zealous bag-guys shoot as us. I turn, and point the gun I have… but decide not to shoot. We reach the bushes, lie down, and watch what happens next.

Shadows of figures start approaching those who were shooting at us. The younger persecutors all group together and have their backs turned towards the looming figures. Shooting begins. The youths start dropping to the ground, dead. It continues until only a few left.

The adults come out of the shadows. I start getting glimpses of their faces. Ugly, hideous, fat faces. Some women, some men. All evil. In their hands they grasp instruments of torture. I don’t want to describe them.
———-
I wake up. Heavy breathy. Thinking, “God, why did I dream that?” I fall back to sleep, with that thought in mind.
Instantly I’m dreaming once again.
———
A brother tells me in my dream, “It’s because your view of evil is too innocent.”

I was standing off in the distance, watching this transpire. Guy getting into the water, and out of the water. Then I see that there is something IN the water. A python. But I couldn’t yell and tell him, for some reason I held it in.

Over and over, the guy gets close to the edge, gets knee-deep in, and then gets out. Python is circling.
Then he wades in deeper
and deeper
now swimming.

He’s in the deepest part, sorta under this little rock overhang. Python strikes and wraps. Pulls him under the water, and I act.

But all I have to throw are little knives. I’m too far off for them to penetrate; they bounce right off.

If I had gotten in the water and really stabbed at it, maybe.
But then, if I had said something BEFORE he got pulled under, then maybe he’d have lived.