This week, Pastor Andy popped in to let me know about a bizarre dream he had, and I featured a prominent part.
Get your mind out of the gutter.
Pastor Andy is one of the three pastors on staff at the
church; he’s the newest and is the youth pastor. He got here shortly before I
did. He also works with Hope
Village and visits with
volunteers (when we have them) and homeowners.
The other two pastors are my supervisor (the senior pastor;
he’s been at this church 19 years) and Pastor Dan.
PDan is about my age and has four kids. He also has a bald
head, at least one earring and no shoes. He looks like a pirate.
I guess now that it’s -21 out, he is wearing some kind of
foot cover, but usually those toe-shoe things. In the summer it’s bare feet or
sandals at most. Quite a hippie. I’m not sure how Crystal puts up with him. She said he had
long hair when they got married.
Pastor Andy has two little kids; Gwen is 2 so I’d guess
Aiden is maybe 4. Aiden played shy at first, but he loosened up after I helped
him out with wiffle ball. Gwen doesn’t have a shy bone in her body. Right now,
I’m housing all their scooters and trikes in my garage as they live nearby.
The dad is also my next-door neighbor as far as offices go.
I’m squatting in the old vicar’s office (all my supplies are clearly marked
“VICAR” in Sharpie). Both PDan and Pastor Andy have much bigger offices (PDan’s
even has a sink; it used to be a kitchen), but mine is about half the size, and
so is my supervisor’s. I think technically, we share an office but it’s divided
into two rooms. You have to go through my door to get to my supervisor’s. We
also have a window so we can wave at each other and send hand signals.
The two-offices-in-one means that my door to the hallway is
also my supervisor’s, which explains why I have his name on my door above the
sign that says “Pastor” and the photo of his newborn grandson, with a Pastor
Andy-created bubble coming out of his mouth that says “Grandpa, will you buy me
a guitar?”
Both my supervisor and Pastor Andy play their guitars in
their offices, and Bonnie, who is the music director and whose office is
diagonal across the hall, plays piano here and there, so it’s a very pleasant
place to work.
Anyway, Andy walked in earlier this week and said he had to
tell me about this dream he’d had.
Somehow, I was driving a school bus. He said he wasn’t sure
if it was Hope Village people or Our Savior Lutheran
Church people on the bus, but I was behind the wheel. We’d stopped for gas
outside of some town that was completely abandoned.
There was a police car involved somehow, and then an “older
woman,” Pastor Andy called her, came walking up and waving a gun at the police
officer. There was a puff of smoke and the officer disappeared. (Remember: dream.)
Then, the woman went back to her car and pulled out the
heavy artillery and came at us. Missiles, guns, etc., the whole nine yards. (I
have my theories as to whom this figure represents!)
Pastor Andy said I got back on the bus (I guess I was the
one gassing it up – I do it all, even in someone else’s dream) to get everyone
out of there.
“But first,” he told me. “You took a big shot of shot of
whiskey.”
Then I got in and started driving like a mad woman as I
dodged artillery fire.
“We got to the abandoned town, and missiles were landing
around us everywhere. You were driving up and down these little roads, turning
left and right,” Pastor Andy said. “There was nobody around – it was completely
empty – and you just drove us all through it as these bombs were going off all
around us.”
I’m no dream interpreter, but I think I came out rather well
in that one.
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