Mom, Chad and I parked the car, then began walking into Walmart. The air was crisp and cool – though not too cool, hinting that Spring was on the way.
We walked through the double sliding doors, and were instantly greeted by… a scary goblin. There was orange and black everywhere! A banner over the second set of doors stated that due to an overstock of Halloween goods, the store would be decorated in a Halloween theme until mid-March.
Already I was freaking out, but I knew that I’d just have to swallow my fear of clowns and goblins, and do what had to be done. But I hadn’t anticipated every single Walmart employee being dressed in a scary costume; and this was the only time they’d ever been so eager to help, too!
As I walked through the men’s clothing section, I tried to avoid eye contact with the blood covered executioner. I started checking out the pants, looking for the size I wear. Over my shoulder I could see the scary man coming toward me. In fact, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, he was running towards me.
I dropped the stack of pants I had to been looking at, and darted into the aisle. Long legs are definitely a blessing when it comes to out running bloody
“murderers.” However, parkour skills are involved for outrunning multiple bloody “murderers.”
I bounced between displays, around people, and over bins. It seemed like every employee in the whole store was after me! I was quickly getting boxed in. I just needed to get higher – to get someplace where they couldn’t. I started climbing up a shelf, but a hooded man with a scythe grabbed my leg and started pulling. I kicked and hit something wooden. I kicked again… and woke up.
What is it with nightmares? Why do we have them? I really don’t know, and I don’t know why I have the same one over and over again (I’ve never had a different nightmare from the “halloween at Walmart” one). Some times I wonder is it’s something spiritual – it seems like I only ever have that dream before going on missions trip, or something of that nature. Is it just an attempt to break me down; to make me say, “I can’t. I’m too afraid”?
But it doesn’t have to be that way. Because, truly, I can’t. Only Christ can. God help me if I ever say, “I can” – that’s when he gets less glory, and I get it all. If I don’t screw it up in the process, that is.
Ya know – maybe on that note, the nightmare isn’t an attack to get me to feel like I can’t do what I should do, but rather it’s actually a reminder that I can only do it in Christ’s strength! I mean, the dream has absolutely nothing to do with that theme, but it does make me feel fear and run to Christ for consolation. Without Christ – no matter how big or small my fears are, and no matter how week or strong I think I am – nothing of eternal value can be accomplished.
So while I hate clowns and goblins (but especially clowns), I’m thankful for them because they remind me that “I can [only] do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
I gasped; sweat was pouring down my face. I looked to my left into the kind face of an Indian. There weren’t any horses. They had all gone. No… they had never been there. It had all been a dream – just a bad dream.
“You’re awake.” The Indian smiled. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.”
“You look like an Indian, but you sure don’t sound like one… aren’t Indians supposed to talk all choppy-like and with bad grammar?”
He chuckled. “Not all Indians are they way the movies show them being. We, however, do still follow our ancestors traditions. For hundreds of years, we have been known for our skill in training the wild horses.”
I smiled, thinking that it would be nice if they would tame all the wild horses that landed me here.