As I passed by the Willamette River this morning, I noticed its still darkness. It reminded me of the watery images that have appeared in my dreamscapes. But there is a difference between the two.
My watery dreams include water in a variety of places—puddles lying in roads, lakes waiting at the bottom of rocky cliffs, rivers flowing through meadows or over boulders, springs spreading over mountain paths, and oceans reaching for the shore. Only a few of these watery dreams have appeared dark, still, and deep. These are the ones that have frightened me. My fear seems to be rooted in the thought that these waters are not easily traversed. And in my dreams they are not traversable, at least not as I find myself in the dream. Something must change and that is what scares me.
But today, the Willamette had such a stillness that it appeared to be solid and able to be crossed on foot. I wondered about that. Jesus walked on water. How did he do that? Did he see the water as solid? A thing easily traversed?
How much wading, splashing, and paddling is required for the necessary changes to take place? How much dunking until I am transformed completely? How many baptisms until the water is solid enough for me to walk upon? And how solid must it be?
I don’t know. What I do know is that the power of those dark, deep waters of my dream life will now have a different meaning. They just might be God’s polite invitation to a walk on the water.
Day twenty-one of the Thirty Days of Seeing
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