The Men Who Shot Me

randomlychad  —  August 10, 2012 — 11 Comments


It’s quarter past four in the morning. I’m not sure why I’m up. Was it the dream I just had? Or the headache I both took to bed with me, and woke up with?

In the dream, my wife and I are vacationing I’m not sure where. She’s checking us in, but somehow I’m already in the room.

Two men are there.

With guns.

Somehow I have one, too. Words are exchanged; I ask what they want.

They answer with a hail of bullets.

I return fire. Most of their bullets miss, but some strike home. I’m shot in the chest.

My shots are true, and the assailants fall dead at my feet.

I’m shot, but alive. I need to find my wife, tell her I’m going to the hospital.

I do, and walk next door to it.

And Iike was like they know me, know what I need, acknowledge my wounds. All the paperwork is ready and waiting. I sign in, am escorted to surgery.

It is a success.

Lisa finds me. We are together, and stronger than ever.

The assailants failed to take me out.

I’ll let you take what meaning you will from my dream, but to me it’s clear:

The assailants are the schemes of the wicked one who seeks to sideline me. I am wounded by them, but able to find healing in the hospital. To me, that hospital is the Wild At Heart retreat I’m going to next week. They are expecting me, know my name, know my wounds (the shot to the chest is my heart), and have the healing I need.

Afterwards, after I return home, Lisa and I find each other again, and are stronger than ever.

That is what I think my dream means. The strange thing is that I don’t usually remember my dreams. I don’t want to claim it’s from God, but it sure seems to be.

Have you ever had such vivid dream, one that confirmed you were on the path you were supposed to be? Do you remember your dreams?




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Christ-follower, husband, dad, blogger, reader, writer, movie buff, introvert, desert-dweller, omnivore, gym rat. May, or may not, have a burgeoning collection of Darth Vader t-shirts. Can usually be found drinking protein shakes, playing with daughter, working out with his son, or hanging out with his wife. Makes a living playing with computers.

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  • Insane dream, my friend!

    I don’t remember dreams… ever. It’s terrible, really, because my wife always brags about her awesome crazy dreams. I’m all like, “Well, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was still in the same spot.”

    Excited for this mini-retreat in your life, Chad!

    • Totally, right?

      Like u said, I don’t usually remember mine, either, but this was different.
      Me, too, man!

  • I don’t think He USUALLY speaks this way, but I will not limit Him. I will say that given the content of your blog, it lines up. And you know that you and Lisa will be together and stronger after you go through this Bootcamp.

    • I don’t think so, either, Larry, but this felt different. Like you, I don’t want to limit Him.

      Thanks for being a friend!

  • Chad, that makes sense to me, but that’s really an “only God can answer that” kind of question.Thanks for sharing your dream.

    • Oh, for sure, Jim. But He can, and I believe in that possibility--that it was Him speaking to me.

  • Boom! That was awesome.

    Once I had a dream I was in an old western saloon getting bashed over the head with a bottle. I woke up and my cousins were beating me with a sock.

    • Thanks, KC!

      That’s a fun dream! Sorry you took a beating. Even so, wouldn’t it be cool to be in on of those old movies?

  • Ricky Anderson

    I don’t remember my dreams, but I hope they’re this cool.

    • Usually, I don’t, either. This one woke me at four in the morning.

    • By the way, I’ve read your stuff, Ricky--I’m sure you have cool dreams. 🙂