This is an excerpt from a chapter in The Big House that I have wanted to share.
I am sure we all can relate to the harsh reality and bitter emotion that comes with waking from a wonderful dream, landing hard back into reality. Andy did this metaphysically, managing to turn his spiritual direction away from darkness and heading back to good using nothing but sheer free will and hope in his darkest moment.
I had a dream I was flying, the wind lifting me up, up, up and then I would float for awhile as I scanned the woodlands below. I was soaring alongside a ridge. I could see two motorcycles screaming down the old dirt road. My first thought was of my brother, Ben on his Green Machine, one of those bikes made for motocross. It was just another day in paradise. I recalled that feeling of total freedom and having nothing to do but ride. My mind was wide open, full of hope and the spirit of adventure. Lifted higher by the breeze, I could now see over the ridge and along the road that ran behind our house. I could see my house. The feeling was incredible! I was drifting effortlessly and the view was grand. My vision then shifted to a blazing carousel of lights. The colors originated from one bright source of white light. I wanted to fly in that direction.
As I gazed into the light, the pain in my head arrested my senses and the colors dimmed. As my body wrestled for control of my mind, I felt pressure on the left side of my face. My vision corrected and I gradually left my grand flight to realize I was face down on the floor. Little white triangles around faded purple and red paisley shapes stretched in front of me. I was on the carpet. My head ached and my arm was numb from where I had been lying on top of it. As I came to, I recalled the girl’s body on the bed, long since dead. Fresh terror ran through me. I pushed myself to all fours and grabbed the table to help me to my feet. The world was spinning and I knew now that none of this was real. Just where was I? The last thing I remember was being with Claudia, but reminded myself that it was all a dream. “Get a hold of yourself,” I demanded of my faculties.
Hope is most precious when used in the darkest moments, otherwise we would parish in the vicious funnel cloud of despair!