The Stuff of Dreams

This morning, as far as I can tell, I had a very disturbing and compelling dream.

In this dream, I ended up on a tennis court. I was turning to leave the tennis court, and I heard something crying.

I looked back and saw a baby carrier sitting in the middle of the court, and I walked toward it. Before I could get there, my old roommate Dan attacked me, punching me hard in the stomach. A second time, I approached the carrier again. This time I saw a baby in the carrier.

The baby was bi-racial, with tuffs of black hair. I started teasing the baby, and he started to laugh and smile. Yet, almost as soon he started crying and grasping for my neck.

Dan confessed that he had just left the baby on the tennis court so that someone might pick him up. This was horrifying, but I suppose I was simply content that I was not being beat up.

At this part of the dream, the scene cut to the inside of a nasty, yellow-ish bathroom. Dan and I were in the bathroom and we had the baby with us. The atmosphere was pungent and dangerous. I was in a stall and I looked to the stall to the left of me. There was a black hand protruding over the edge of a stretcher. I could not see the face, which made the experienced all the more disturbing.

As I was leaving the bathroom, a man passed by me with a look on his face that was extremely unsettling.

This was about where my dream ended.

I am not big into hocus-pocus Christianity, and I rarely think that God tells me anything specific, but this dream has sparked my thoughts about adoption.

I just imagine a baby out there in the inner city that will be subjected to an environment of violence and instability if I do not fetch him out of it.