“I believe in music the way that some people believe in fairytales.”—August Rush

Avett Brother’s concert. My faith in live music’s ability to heal and sooth broken places in people’s hearts has been renewed. 

Ok, so it’s 3 in the morning, I can’t sleep, and I’m sitting here, smiling at the idea that God has me here for a reason. But, I need to back up, I just jumped ahead a little too fast.

I’m really bad at sleep. I tend to get somewhere between 4 and 6 hours on a normal night. On a less than normal night (nights that happen consistently about every 5 or 6 days) I’ll get 2 hours or less. No, I don’t have insomnia. No, I’m not up cramming for tests. I have sort of ridiculously bad dreams. Consistently. I dread bed time. This has been true since I was about six years old. I’m twenty. And these aren’t just like your everyday, once in a blue moon, “Oh man, I shouldn’t have eaten that before I went to bed” dreams. These are what look like excerpts from horror movies I’ve never watched in dark places I’ve never been. And what’s worse? The people in the nightmares are of people I love. They’re incredibly dark, riddled with all the trappings of what I would assume to be a decent horror movie. Imagine a six year old watching a particularly gruesome scene from Saw. You get the gist. 

Ok, so now that you probably think I’m a dormant sociopath that’s one bad day away from doing something terrible, let me tell you what I think happens. I’m about 98% sure these dreams aren’t from me. I’m about 100% sure that nightmares are one of Satan’s primary tools of attack in my life. He must think if he can scare me into not sleeping, I’ll be too weak to combat him in the daylight.

I’ll be honest, some days, that’s true. But I’ve been realizing a few things about this whole dark dreams business. First, Satan can’t do anything to me without permission from the Lover of my soul. No, I don’t think God is punishing me. Yes, I still firmly hold fast to the fact that he wants what’s best for me. NO, I don’t particularly enjoy being twenty years old and being afraid of the dark. But I know that God hasn’t left me to do this alone. He’s taught me how very real Satan is, and he’s given me the chance to seek His arms in my deepest, hardest, most embarrassing places of fear. He is in control, and that is a very comforting thought.

The second part of this realization is more like an epiphany than an entirely new thought. My heart was designed with a thirst for adventure. I long to be apart of an epic story. Very much like Samwise Gamgee, “I wonder if we’ll ever be put into songs or tales.” I desire to experience the world my Lover has made. I want to answer that call, and go to His people, hopefully bringing with me the Love that captured me so tightly. Who knows, maybe God’ll even send a man with a heart for wonder and adventure my way. 

So if those are the dreams in my heart—if I’m finally learning to recognize how much God wants me to dream, if I’m starting to understand that these desires and dreams are some of the way my life could reflect Him—OF COURSE Satan would want to take control of my dreams at night. He’s working hard to instill fear in me: fear that travel leads to disaster; fear that my desires to GO will somehow wind up inflicting hurt instead of bringing joy; fear that I will lose things I care about if I dare hope for the future. Satan wants me to fear GOING and ADVENTURING. He’s hellbent on keeping me frozen in fear, petrified to even think about trying to realize what God may be calling me into. 

Some nights, fear wins. I don’t say that because I’m some damsel in distress, needing to be rescued. I’ve been rescued. It’s done. Period. Jesus died to rescue me. I say that, because it’s true. Fear is like a disease. It sort of sneaks up on you, and before you know it, you’re completely overwhelmed. Those nights, I’m really thankful that God made some one creative enough to come up with Gilmore Girls. Lorelei and Rory are often the remedy for bad dreams. I’m also thankful for Scripture like John 10:10 that reminds me no matter what Satan tries to take from me, God died to give me life to the fullest. As I pull the covers closer under my chin, I repeat those words over and over and over….

….till they sink in, melting my fear-frozen heart. Deep Breaths. My heart slows from frantic pounding to steady beats. I drift off too sleep remembering what is true: I have been called into wild adventure, and my God loves me enough to comfort me in times of trouble. 

Sweet Dreams, y’all.