PART VIII: Walking with God

When I was age 5, I had a dream. It was about lions, and terrifying for a 5-year old little girl. I told my mom about it, and she dismissed it as “just a dream”, of course. But a few nights later, I had the EXACT same dream again. It started at the exact same point in time, played out exactly the same, and ended at the exact same point like the first time. Everything was the same. The conversation, the environment, the emotions, the event, the people in it, everything. It was short, but intense.

I ignored it, but it happened again. And again. At some point, I remember telling my mom (again) and my brother was there too. He laughed and then taunted me on how I thought I was so special, getting this “dream”, and who do I think I were?

It devastated me. As the youngest, I had a bit of an unhealthy hero-worship of all three my eldest siblings. I was a rule-abider, a follower, and a weakling. I didn't know how to stand up for myself at that point. I was unsure, uncertain, no self confidence and of little self worth. I was always too small, too slow, too thin, too weak physically, too this or too that. So being told I'm imagining things and there's nothing special about my dream, hit me hard. My mom that was present, didn't deny it.

But deep inside, I knew this dream wasn't just a normal dream (those I still got every night). This dream was special. I wasn't the one initiating it. I didn't even want it, because it was terrifying. So repeatedly dreaming the same scary nightmare about lions who want to eat me, is not something that I would “make up” or wish for. Being told I was imagining it, made me realise.... I could not share it any more. They don't believe me. And I cannot let anyone taint this with their unbelief.

So I never spoke about it again for almost a year. For almost a year, I dreamed the dream most nights. At least about 3 or 4x a week. Sometimes even more. Always the same dream. Exactly the same. Until it was branded into my brain.

Then I turned 6 and as I blew the candles, I realised. I'm now 6. And I STILL dream this dream that started when I was 5. So I told my mom that night or soon thereafter. That it was now just about a whole year of it happening over and over again.

So my mom stopped what she was doing, immediately, which was so unlike her. She sat with me at the kitchen table and asked me to tell her the dream, which I did. She said nothing. Just stood up to continue her cooking. But I saw her face. It was contemplative. She believed me!!

That night, I did not dream it again. Nor the next, or the next. It disappeared completely. Until I was 18 or 19 years old. I was in University then, and out of the blue, I dreamed it again. Exactly the same dream. I was flabbergasted. And almost scared, because I did NOT wanted to start it all over again. But it didn't. It only happened that once, and then never, ever again.

This, as well as some awful things (no, not molestation) that happened to me around the same age as the dream, caused me to turn to my Bible. I was taught to read around age 5-6, and the Bible was one of the first books I read. First it was “children's Bible stories”. Then my mom bought me my own, “real” Bible. I can't remember when exactly, I believe around age 8 or 9. I clung to that and got very very close to God. I adored Him. Whenever I was sad, angry or upset, I would open the Bible and a verse would jump out, giving me courage, comfort, hope or showing the way. I realised that God truly was speaking to me through His Word, and I held on to that as a lifeline. It made the sad things in my life okay, and the hard things bearable.

During those years, there was something else I wondered about. It's too personal, I won't divulge it. It was just about my own past, and something I felt as a little girl. And I always queried God. For years and years I wanted to know why I felt it. One day, it overwhelmed me, and I cried and called out to Him. This time, He answered me personally. Not through His Word. But in His voice, through His Spirit. I heard Him inside my head. You can almost call it telepathy. Except that I immediately knew it was Him speaking. He answered my question, and gave me a command about it. Only 2 small sentences. Acknowledging my heartache and that it was true, as well as what I must do about it. (Again, to reiterate, this was not about molestation, just about a loss I experienced years and years before that moment.)

I was flabbergasted. I did not know God in this way. I never heard of anyone (at that stage) talking about God speaking to them in their heads, like that. I sat there stunned, almost not even blinking, for what felt like hours. Then stood up, went to my bedside table, picked up my Bible and opened it up at a random verse, asking God.... was that you, God? I can't remember at which verse I opened it up, but it basically said “It is I AM”.

God spoke to me.

I can still feel the wonder that caused me. And then I knew. I couldn't tell this to my family. I could not share and let them defile this memory. It was too special. Too real. Too pure. Too Holy. It was mine, and mine alone. So I told no one (until now). Not even my mother.

From that moment that God spoke to me in my head/heart/spirit at age 10, I knew that everything else I always felt was from Him, was true. The dreams, the repetitive one and others that I now knew were from Him, the knowledge He gave me about my mother, as well as the fact that His Return was not too far off. At that moment, I trusted everything He told me during that first 10 years of my life. Oh, how I begged that His Return could come sooner. Especially during my teenage years when I went through much heartache. But I was told not yet. So I put it all on the back burner, realising I had to live my life in the meantime. Which I did.

Continuing with some more history here...