Day 35: dream

It is starkly silent. Midnight. The house is dark. Everyone has been asleep for hours. I am up with an odd combination of strange sensations in my body still recovering from a run in with a very unpleasant virus and distorted, half-awake ideas about how Ulrich and I can make a halfway decent go at this business. God is present. At this time of day there are few other noses to distract. The darkness obscures my sight. My mind to sleepy to be coherent. It wanders. God speaks. Will I recognize God's voice? Will I remember it in the morning if I do? Is any of this real? Am I dreaming?

I find God often in times like this. Sometimes I recognize it, sometimes not. Sometimes I imagine it, sometimes not. But a seed gets planned in my heart. I wait to see if it will grow in the morning or fade with the passing of the night.  I hear faint echos of the clear message that I am so certain I felt God impress upon me. Or sometimes, it feels strangely dry and empty, then I doubt and wonder if God is there at all.

I say yes. Like Nicodemus, my best conversations with God are cryptic and under cover of the deep night, only understood long afterwards once the story has played out.