A dream with a lesson

A flooded river, my dad, and the ultimate rescue

My dreams have always been vivid, colorful, and interesting. When I was in college, I woke my roommates up by talking and laughing in my sleep. My husband says I still do this.

Last week I had a dream that felt especially poignant, and I woke up feeling like I’d been given some pieces of truth.

In the dream, I was driving my RAV4 down a steep hill in the town where I grew up. The hill led to a river with a boat ramp jutting into it. It was a place I explored frequently as a child.

As I drove down the hill, I suddenly noticed the river was flooded. There should’ve been a quarter mile of flat road before I reached the river, but the base of the hill was completely inundated with muddy, deep water.

As I saw the flooding, I realized I was going fast—too fast to stop. I pressed the brakes hard, but they squished against the tires instead of biting into them decisively. I lifted my left foot to feel for the emergency brake, but the pedal was wobbly and hard to navigate. Finally, I stomped on the brakes with both feet—my left foot on the emergency brake, my right foot on the regular brake—and somehow stopped just shy of the river.

I sat there, my heart beating rapidly, and wondered what I should do. How could I get myself out of this situation? I couldn’t leave my vehicle there—the river was rising, and the car would get swept away. Do I risk switching the gears to put the car into reverse? To back up, I’d have to take my feet off the brakes. Even if I was quick, the car would lurch forward ever so slightly, and that small movement could slip me into the raging river.

I sat with my feet pressed hard against the brakes, bearing the weight of the responsibility and my conundrum until suddenly I sensed my dad beside me. He was much younger than when he died—more like the age he was when I was in high school. Somehow, from the passenger seat, he took control. He backed the car effortlessly up the hill in a zigzag pattern, back and forth. Without any effort on my part, I found myself parked far above the river, out of peril, and at peace.

“How did you do that?” I asked him.

“I just took it easy and backed it up,” he told me. “You were trying too hard to solve the problem. You just had to turn the wheel and ease into it.”

I’ve been thinking about that dream all day.

My dad rescued me. As a father, he was often unpredictable, unreliable, and unavailable. I was reminded of the times when he was trustworthy—when I was a little girl, and I was scared, and he would take my hand, and sit me on his lap, and assure me everything would be okay. I was too young to question his reliability—I simply trusted. It was nice to have that innocent feeling of safety and security, once again.

It reminded me that the feeling I had as a little girl—that blind, young trust—can be a part of my daily life today. Instead of putting my trust in a person, I can turn my focus to God, who is always capable, trustworthy, faithful, and available. The calm, cool, competency of my dad in the dream echoed God’s approach to me and my problems. I don’t need to worry—I just need to learn to rest and rely on His faithfulness even more.

The dream also reminded me of the many “rivers” I confront in my daily life. So often I examine the river from every possible perspective, trying to figure out how to make a raft that will float, or a how to chart a course out of the peril. Instead, I need to turn around and ask God to help me. He has the solution I’m looking for, and it’s usually less complicated than I imagined.

Every day, God offers us the safety and security a good father extends to his daughter—if we’re willing to look for Him, hold on to Him, and trust His path.

I love when dreams come with an unexpected lesson. Have you had any interesting dreams lately?