The dream a just had started off to be a bit of a nightmare. This is how it went; before me was a book. On one page it said light and on the opposite page, dark, the light page being bright and beautiful decorated with flowers, and the dark page being a streaky black with two red eyes in the middle. For whatever reason I touched the dark page. Immediately my surroundings were consumed with darkness and creepy images of creatures and things. The appearances of the people around me began to alter, their eyes beginning to drip with blackness, all staring right at me. I had a friend in the dream who I’ve never met in real life and it seemed like to me that they became possessed. His eyes stayed black while everyone else had returned to normal. Throughout the dream surreal things would happen (like in any dream) but this had a bad vibe to it. My friend would lash out and do all these weird things that I can’t really explain & he was tormenting me. I remember feeling scared in my dream & finally I was fed up. I remember wanting to wake up, I knew it was a dream but I was still scared, I just wanted it to be over. Finally I looked at him dead on and shouted “Stop it! God has already beat you, so you’re wasting your time.” Slowly his eyes began to regain its original appearance & he looked bewildered. Everyone around me began to agree & say things like “God is good” and what not. I said ” God is already victorious so just leave! God has already won!” I said this over and over until my friend appeared to be normal again. The dream continued and nothing strange happened anymore and I felt a huge sense of relief and happiness. I thought I was going to wake up afraid and worried, but because God is victorious I’ve woken up full of happiness and nothing but love for God. Just thought I should share :) have a blessed Sunday !
“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.”—Andrea Gibson (via bornreadygeneration)