An awful dream got me up while it was still dark and cold outside.  I was at a professional football game with friends of ours, our pastors and “community”….. At some point, in the middle of the game, we are raided by a north korean guarilla-style army carrying various swords and machetes.  At first, they began scalping people of Indian and Middle-Eastern decent.  They gathered various kinds of others, including myself for a sport with a “great prize” if you make it to the end. 

With out telling us what was required, I quickly learned that any non-graceful movements made would get either that body part cut off or you will be scalped if you refused the punishment. We were closely watched as we were forced to walk as smoothly as we could up a slanted spiral walkway [not a staircase] that went up for many many floors. If you didn’t walk a certain way [more like a glide] or hold your hands a certain way, you were sure to get the blade.  

I was doing well, especially for a first-timer, encouraged by some of the korean cheerleaders that looked more like flight attendants; but some of the men scowled at me, waiting for me to mess up under their watch.  

At one point, during a break, I was spotted by one of the cheerleaders as I was desperately trying to find Hubster to take the kids away.  I was stopped in my tracks, scared they might do something to them, begged to just let me take the kids to family so they could be safe.  She approves with a cold stare, “That’s fine, I now know exactly what they look like”.  That frightened me, like somehow the kids weren’t safe even if they were nowhere around this bloody ordeal.  

I find Hubster and all he says is to escape anyway I can, this is a mistake if I continue.  I felt I had no other choice, if I didn’t continue, the kids would still be in danger.  I was somehow certain that I was lucky to get as far as I did.  But as I continued, the slope of the walkway grew increasingly steep.  It was beginning to be difficult to stand without falling over.  Drunken soldiers were laughing and slurring and stumbling right in front of us.  The men walking the walkway were usually the first to get something dismembered on the spot.  The women on the walkway were more emotionally tampered with, mocked with. 

At one point, I kept saying to myself that Mister Hubster was right.  I should have just tried leaving when I could, but I was scared.  I kept trying to look for a way out, but there was none, people were diving to their deaths as we increased the floors on walkway just to avoid the bleeding out by blade punishment these men took pleasure in.  

My heart rate increased the more I was at risk and it climaxed when I realized that only one person [of the hundreds of us trying to survive] would actually “win” whatever they felt was the grand prize.  Even if I did survive, it would be at a great cost and it would most likely haunt the rest of my living days.  If I tried to escape, me and my family would die.  

I was so terrified waking up, I walked up from sleeping next to my daughter in the kids room and rushed to Mister Hubster, hoping I could calm down and be somewhat comforted.  ”I’m sorry, but can you just hold me?”  I told him about my dream while he laid out on his back, with one arm out.  The mental state I was in was really more hoping for a double-arm embrace, but I was appreciative that I was being listened to.  When I was done explaining my dream, Hubster was quick to retract his arm and turn over with his back towards me and get back to sleep.

 ”There’s more blankets on the side of the bed if you need more.”  He added.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone in my marriage.  We went from sharing a full sized mattress as a happy newlywed couple then enjoyed the upgrade to a queen mattress and now I’m left to fend for myself instead of being encouraged to cuddle up after a nightmare.  I shamefully looked for blankets, all of which were toddler sized or knitted with holes.  So I sat in the cold, tears streaming down and heart still racing.  I was afraid of falling asleep and picking up the dream where I left off. I ended up going back to my daughter’s bed and cuddled up with her for the rest of the morning.

Working on mustering up some grace, because this hurt inside is eating me up.  And now I’m at work, acting like nothing is suppose to be bothering me.  I would never have thought the emotions I feel in my sleep would be almost indistinguishable from what I felt when I woke up.  I feel no comfort.  Of course, I have to keep telling myself this is how I feel, which may be different what is really going on.  So I tell myself to move on, even though it’s extremely hard.