The Abyss of Flowers Dream

DATE: July 23, 1997

SCENARIO: I had been a good boy for the greater part of the first half of 1997. Good boy' insomuch that I could count the number of times I had consciously sinned on one hand. July 23, 1997 found me up at school, up at the university, on campus, on what my fellow students regularly referred to as summer break, but which was to me nothing more than summer brain-drain: I was still taking classes. Statistics 101 and Drama 115 aside, I otherwise felt myself to be at a spiritual standstill: it was as if were just floating about, with no especial vision, no "higher purpose" goal that I could direct my prayers toward. And what's all this homework nonsense about, I found myself asking, what's it worth, whats anything worth-if I have not God? In Christian circles you will on occasion hear the expression 'an active faith', as in: "pastor sure has an active faith in that new outreach program he's got going!" or "does worship leader Wendy have an active faith in the time-keeping ability of her percussionist, Jim Bob?" Well, it was on July 23, 1997 that I decided to go the way of so-called active faith'. "Lord...Oh, Lord," I called out in heartfelt earnest on the eve of July 23, 1997. "Fill me with your spirit: yes, for that is what I desire. I am of course well aware, Lord, that scripture tells me that I'm ALREADY filled with your spirit, but-manifest it then, I mean. And to that end I hereby consecrate the rest of summer brain-drain-the month or so until fall semester begins-unto wholehearted prayer and devotion."

Believe it, buster! I prayed that very prayer. And meant it! And later that same night, I had a dream...

DREAM: I actually had three dreams that night (it was as if the earnestness of my prayer had initiated something in the seventh heaven, or anyhow in the sixth heaven, although I am rather inclined to believe the third heaven: where there not three dreams?) but I will herein refer to just one of those dreams: the dream I have since christened The Abyss of Flowers'. This dream, for what it is worth-as is the case with all dreams, it may have been no more than subconscious rambling-was less a progression of seemingly related events and rather more a progression of seemingly unrelated pictures. Do you perhaps know what a cornucopia is? Ever see one? One filled to overflowing with fruit and vegetables, and sided by the ever-present and always-fun-to-toss-around gourd? Well, that was the first snapshot image

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