We get too comfortable with this orphanage universe though. We sit in our pews or behind our pulpits knowing that our children watch Christian cartoons instead of slash films. We vote for the right candidates and know all the right worldview talking points. And were content with the world we know just adjusted a little for our identity as Christians. Thats precisely why so many of us are so atrophied in our prayers why our prayers rarely reach the level of groanings too deep for words Rom 826. We are too numbed to be as frustrated as the Spirit is with the way things are.

The deeper your thoughts the clearer your dreams. The clearer your dreams the higher you fly. Decide to fly

Your dreams and goals are bigger than small minded people or the fears that they harbor. Dont let their ocean of fear trap you in the undertow.

I had a dream about you. You had a bottle made of smoky glass which made the contents appear mysterious and I had the last smoky exhalation of a dead smoker in a Ziploc bag. I offered to trade my sandwich for your drink but you said No thanks Im asexual.

Even if you know youre sleeping youre still at the mercy of your dreams. People who are asleep cant simply decide to wake up. Nightmares dont let you off that easily. They hold you in their clutches until they decided in their own good time to let you go.

I had a dream about you. I invented and sold shoes that left no footprints and you were thinking about committing a murder in a muddy area. I said that committing a murder was a bad idea and that you should commit several murders but I was just trying to sell more shoes.

She will not come back but her beauty her voice will echo until the end of time. She believed in something beyond herself and her death gave her voice power it didnt havein life. She was pure like your father. We you and Ihe touches my chest with the back of his index fingerare dirty. We are made for blood. Rough hands. Dirty hearts.We are lesser creatures in the grand scheme of things but without us men of war no one except those of Lykos would hear Eos song. Without our rough hands the dreams of the pure hearts would never be built.

Dont panic. Midway through writing a novel I have regularly experienced moments of bowel-curdling terror as I contemplate the drivel on the screen before me and see beyond it in quick succession the derisive reviews the friends embarrassment the failing career the dwindling income the repossessed house the divorce . . . Working doggedly on through crises like these however has always got me there in the end. Leaving the desk for a while can help. Talking the problem through can help me recall what I was trying to achieve before I got stuck. Going for a long walk almost always gets me thinking about my manuscript in a slightly new way. And if all else fails theres prayer. St Francis de Sales the patron saint of writers has often helped me out in a crisis. If you want to spread your net more widely you could try appealing to Calliope the muse of epic poetry too.

I had a dream about you. You were trying to swim across the Atlantic Ocean and I figured Id help you out so I brought a bucket to the beach and scooped out about a gallon of sea water. I was pleased with myself because now youd have that much less water to swim through. People have drowned on a gallon of water so its very likely I saved your life. But I didnt do it to be honored like a hero though a parade would be nice. I did it for the free meals and the discounted sex.

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods. Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt. But theres music in us. Hope is pushed down but the angel flies up again taking us with her.