Chapter 5
A Flicker of Insight
During a quiet moment, perhaps in meditation or a walk, a thought surfaces: the fire isn't destructive. It's pure energy, a force of creation, not annihilation. This shift in perspective is subtle but profound, a new lens through which to view the dream. While it is not longer mystical to me, I still remain unworthy even more than before. The more I gain insight of what has actually taken place with this recurring dream I am mildly curious as to why I was chosen to see such and for so long. I am just now wanting to put the dream into print. I am just now accepting the fact that the dream is worthy of publishing and sharing, 40 years later after the first occurrence of the dream. My thoughts as a preteen is my thoughts as a great grandmother are very similar. My older self gives confirmation to my younger self. My younger self is grateful for the wisdom of my older self. During the moment of articulation of that insight, there are no years in between. I'm not my own, as the Psalm of David state's his humility in Psalm 8, " what is man that thou are mindful of him and in Psalm 100, David acknowledging God as our Maker "it is you oh God!that has made us and not we ourselves. Right now at this very moment, I feel like the very hands of God has held me the last 40 years. There are things that I have done terribly wrong knowingly and unknowingly, yet He has held me. Times where I knew the facts but I was skeptical, but He helped my unbelief. Even though God was showing me all the while who He was and how much I meant to Him. I still couldn't believe past what was dangl8ng in my natural eyes.Oh! So much peace I forfeited. Now, when I think of the details of the dream, particularly, God allowing me to see through the eyes of His Son in the dream over and over again for all of those years, it seems obscur to think that I did not fully believe in years past. This lack of full belief hindered my level of compassion for others. It also kept me from dressing in the "Whole Armour of God" daily.
The afternoon sun, a gentle balm on my weathered skin, filtered through the leaves of the old oak tree in my backyard. Its dappled light danced on the pages of my journal, a testament to years of scribbled thoughts and hesitant questions. Forty years. It felt like an eternity and yet, in the quiet stillness of this moment, an eternity dissolved. The pre-teen girl who first witnessed the impossible dance of white fire on the ocean’s surface was here, her wonder mirroring the awe that now filled my own heart. My older self, the great-grandmother, offered a silent nod of confirmation, a gentle reassurance that the journey, though long and winding, had led to this very point of clarity.
The dream, once a tempestuous enigma, was beginning to yield its secrets. It wasn’t a harbinger of destruction, not an omen of doom. The white fire, burning defiantly against the churning sea, wasn't consuming; it was *illuminating*. A pure, unquenchable energy, a force of creation, not annihilation. The insight arrived not with a thunderclap, but with the soft rustle of leaves, a whisper in the quietude of my soul. It was like finding a lost key in the depths of a cluttered drawer, a simple yet profound revelation that unlocked a new chamber of understanding.
Yet, with this dawning comprehension came a fresh wave of humility, a deeper awareness of my own unworthiness. If this was a message, a divine unveiling, why me? Why had I been chosen, for so long, to witness such a spectacle? The thought was a familiar refrain, a melody of doubt that had accompanied me through decades. It was only