Sweeping with Greg
Following the dream analysis at Karen's site, I thought I'd share a very lucid dream I had last night, just finished really. Steph is taking classes this weekend, so more time to blog (last night, feeling lonely as she worked all day and then took a night class, I reached out to a couple we don't know super well, went to their place and had a great time; I'm grateful and proud of myself).
I really do want to share this dream, though I'm not completely sure what it all represents.
The Dream
Ah yes, what Freud calls manifest content.
I never knew Greg Rhodes well. I think many of you who read my blog know who he is (Dave T. certainly). He was campus director at Crusade when I started there. I remember he and Laura as a young married couple; I do recall feeling teenager-sad when they announced they were leaving Crusade and coming to Bethany to do ministry. In a way, my ex and I followed him there, along with a few others. And then of course Greg was at Bethany the entire time I was, rising in the ranks, all the way to his senior pastorship. We had a few conversations over the years, nothing very personal that I recall; certainly we haven't spoken in a decade. But for some reason, last night, he was prominent in my dream (and very real to life; that slow calm way he talks...all that).
In my dream I was back at Long Beach State, but I was older, as if I were going back now to take classes. And I was hanging out in the library, though it didn't look like the actual library there, just a little one floor small room place. And Greg worked their, I believe, though I could tell he was still a pastor. I was walking past the desk, and he asked me if he could ask me a question; I remember, even in the dream, feeling like I was hurting, and being surprised he wanted to talk to me.
"Troy, I'm thinking of starting a counseling group at Bethany; I'm wondering what you think of the idea."
It was like being at work when someone asks my opinion about an area I know well, or he thinks I know well.
"That's a great idea, Greg, cool; can I be in it?"
I can't actually remember who suggested I be in the group, me or him, but the next thing I remember we're walking out together, then he offered to give me a ride to my car; this being CSULB, my car was probably a mile off. But we didn't drive to my car. We kept cruising and talking as we went off campus instead. All I remember now is that the conversation felt nurturing, fulfilling, soothing. The next thing is that we were actually at Bethany. He was going to give me a tour of the new building (and I already knew from the website the church is expanding). It was very strange inside, like a long, wide hallway. Along the walls were these huge, stainless steel display boxes covered in glass, like oversized movie poster frames at theatres. There were things in them I don't remember. And as I walked the length of the room I commented,
"Nice, nice, everything looks great."
When we got to the back of that long room I was standing on the carpet and I looked down and it was that same old blue carpet, missing in places now and very worn. And I stood there on it and said,
"This is the same carpet that was here was I was in junior high."
And the feeling of the old and the new together was very powerful.
But the coolest part is coming. Apparently people were working on the inside of the room, and at the back was some kind of small, unfinished stage. It was dusty and dirty, and Greg picked up a broom and started sweeping. It felt natural that I do the same. The two of us were just hanging out, sweeping the dust into piles and off the platform. Again, it felt good, right, clear. Working together. And then I noticed Ken Thomas watching.
Ken, or KC, was a very good friend to me years back, when he was still with Kari and I was still with my ex. Ken appeared moved to see me doing what I was doing; I came off the platform and we started talking. There were tears in his eyes, and I wish I could remember the dialogue clearly enough to write it, but I can't. All I know is he was talking about his two year old son (much older now) and how much he missed me and loved me, he and his son, and how good it was to see me back; something like that. And he was crying, and I was crying, and it was like the tears of the giant killers in Phantastes: all beauty and release.
And that's all I remember.
Analysis
The latent content.
Of course I have no simple answer. That I was back at Bethany and it felt good seems important. That Greg somehow respected me, wanted to talk to me and spend time with me, is significant; he was always older than I and in a staff position; of course he currently pastors Bethany, and probably was acting as a representative of the entire place as I used to know it, maybe of my church and Crusade past. How strange, though, after all these years, for him to show up in a dream. There were other pastors I knew much better, and who had powerful impacts on me. It must be that he represents Bethany, the church, as it is now. Like dreaming of returning to the home where you grew up after thirty years and having your third grade teacher waiting at the door to greet you. The parents, the people you really knew then, are older or gone, but that one teacher remains.
Final Thoughts
As I said when I first started this thing, the blog is narcissistic. But so is talking about myself to other people. Many of us simply call this sharing. So thanks for letting me share.
What I do want to say is that while I wrote those essays on what the gospel is not and made a good case for my own confusion, I don't remember learning those things at Bethany, in all fairness. The list of leaders there who were directly supportive of me is long: Brent S. (crying in his office more than once over the years), Dan D., Mark R., Eric O., Marc A., Chris S., Matt H. (though we had a couple issues he would be welome in my home any time), Keith W. (I remember standing in the lobby in shock the Sunday after my wife left me and Keith calling out across the room, "God is going to use you in a special way in his body because of your experiences, Troy.") Selah. Now I really am crying.
The list of peers who supported me is longer and their work even more impressive. I remember sleeping on Scott's floor for months after my wife left because I couldn't be in our apartment alone; and Randy T. and Scott and others, six or seven, showing up to help me move out of that place because I just couldn't do it myself; and Natalie R. bringing food to my house, and me eating at the Ficke's, and sobbing in my garage with Rob T. For in those days, friends, I had one wolf constant at my heels and his name was death. What did Anne Sexton say? "It's not the why but the how?" Many of those around me didn't even know the fact. From the summer of 1990 until the winter of 93 or so, whenever I wasn't occupied by school or working at a fervid pace (and even then), I knew what Styron, using Milton, calls the Darkness Visible. The urge, like a final lust, for self-destruction. But I will speak of this another time. It's Gandalf reading the ring inscription at Rivendell.
The fact is the Lamb saw and sees still the lives of those who helped me, and their deeds are etched on the vaults of heaven by the Voice himself.
It's true I left the church, but for my own reasons. I can think of three times the names I have listed here, back to Paul K., John B., others.
Has Bethany had its share of politics? I'm sure. I know Brent and Greg had some falling out years ago, and that's all I know. But hey, I'm on vestry at my parish; I teach at a college. The college campus, where everyone is full of themselves and no one can get fired, can produce unmitigated, long-lived, and vicious campaigns. Welcome to the human race. The fact is I was nurtured at Bethany and heard the gospel there many times. It was good, even in my dreams, to be back.
"Now, Greg, where's my broom? There is dirt I need to sweep away."
t
I really do want to share this dream, though I'm not completely sure what it all represents.
The Dream
Ah yes, what Freud calls manifest content.
I never knew Greg Rhodes well. I think many of you who read my blog know who he is (Dave T. certainly). He was campus director at Crusade when I started there. I remember he and Laura as a young married couple; I do recall feeling teenager-sad when they announced they were leaving Crusade and coming to Bethany to do ministry. In a way, my ex and I followed him there, along with a few others. And then of course Greg was at Bethany the entire time I was, rising in the ranks, all the way to his senior pastorship. We had a few conversations over the years, nothing very personal that I recall; certainly we haven't spoken in a decade. But for some reason, last night, he was prominent in my dream (and very real to life; that slow calm way he talks...all that).
In my dream I was back at Long Beach State, but I was older, as if I were going back now to take classes. And I was hanging out in the library, though it didn't look like the actual library there, just a little one floor small room place. And Greg worked their, I believe, though I could tell he was still a pastor. I was walking past the desk, and he asked me if he could ask me a question; I remember, even in the dream, feeling like I was hurting, and being surprised he wanted to talk to me.
"Troy, I'm thinking of starting a counseling group at Bethany; I'm wondering what you think of the idea."
It was like being at work when someone asks my opinion about an area I know well, or he thinks I know well.
"That's a great idea, Greg, cool; can I be in it?"
I can't actually remember who suggested I be in the group, me or him, but the next thing I remember we're walking out together, then he offered to give me a ride to my car; this being CSULB, my car was probably a mile off. But we didn't drive to my car. We kept cruising and talking as we went off campus instead. All I remember now is that the conversation felt nurturing, fulfilling, soothing. The next thing is that we were actually at Bethany. He was going to give me a tour of the new building (and I already knew from the website the church is expanding). It was very strange inside, like a long, wide hallway. Along the walls were these huge, stainless steel display boxes covered in glass, like oversized movie poster frames at theatres. There were things in them I don't remember. And as I walked the length of the room I commented,
"Nice, nice, everything looks great."
When we got to the back of that long room I was standing on the carpet and I looked down and it was that same old blue carpet, missing in places now and very worn. And I stood there on it and said,
"This is the same carpet that was here was I was in junior high."
And the feeling of the old and the new together was very powerful.
But the coolest part is coming. Apparently people were working on the inside of the room, and at the back was some kind of small, unfinished stage. It was dusty and dirty, and Greg picked up a broom and started sweeping. It felt natural that I do the same. The two of us were just hanging out, sweeping the dust into piles and off the platform. Again, it felt good, right, clear. Working together. And then I noticed Ken Thomas watching.
Ken, or KC, was a very good friend to me years back, when he was still with Kari and I was still with my ex. Ken appeared moved to see me doing what I was doing; I came off the platform and we started talking. There were tears in his eyes, and I wish I could remember the dialogue clearly enough to write it, but I can't. All I know is he was talking about his two year old son (much older now) and how much he missed me and loved me, he and his son, and how good it was to see me back; something like that. And he was crying, and I was crying, and it was like the tears of the giant killers in Phantastes: all beauty and release.
And that's all I remember.
Analysis
The latent content.
Of course I have no simple answer. That I was back at Bethany and it felt good seems important. That Greg somehow respected me, wanted to talk to me and spend time with me, is significant; he was always older than I and in a staff position; of course he currently pastors Bethany, and probably was acting as a representative of the entire place as I used to know it, maybe of my church and Crusade past. How strange, though, after all these years, for him to show up in a dream. There were other pastors I knew much better, and who had powerful impacts on me. It must be that he represents Bethany, the church, as it is now. Like dreaming of returning to the home where you grew up after thirty years and having your third grade teacher waiting at the door to greet you. The parents, the people you really knew then, are older or gone, but that one teacher remains.
Final Thoughts
As I said when I first started this thing, the blog is narcissistic. But so is talking about myself to other people. Many of us simply call this sharing. So thanks for letting me share.
What I do want to say is that while I wrote those essays on what the gospel is not and made a good case for my own confusion, I don't remember learning those things at Bethany, in all fairness. The list of leaders there who were directly supportive of me is long: Brent S. (crying in his office more than once over the years), Dan D., Mark R., Eric O., Marc A., Chris S., Matt H. (though we had a couple issues he would be welome in my home any time), Keith W. (I remember standing in the lobby in shock the Sunday after my wife left me and Keith calling out across the room, "God is going to use you in a special way in his body because of your experiences, Troy.") Selah. Now I really am crying.
The list of peers who supported me is longer and their work even more impressive. I remember sleeping on Scott's floor for months after my wife left because I couldn't be in our apartment alone; and Randy T. and Scott and others, six or seven, showing up to help me move out of that place because I just couldn't do it myself; and Natalie R. bringing food to my house, and me eating at the Ficke's, and sobbing in my garage with Rob T. For in those days, friends, I had one wolf constant at my heels and his name was death. What did Anne Sexton say? "It's not the why but the how?" Many of those around me didn't even know the fact. From the summer of 1990 until the winter of 93 or so, whenever I wasn't occupied by school or working at a fervid pace (and even then), I knew what Styron, using Milton, calls the Darkness Visible. The urge, like a final lust, for self-destruction. But I will speak of this another time. It's Gandalf reading the ring inscription at Rivendell.
The fact is the Lamb saw and sees still the lives of those who helped me, and their deeds are etched on the vaults of heaven by the Voice himself.
It's true I left the church, but for my own reasons. I can think of three times the names I have listed here, back to Paul K., John B., others.
Has Bethany had its share of politics? I'm sure. I know Brent and Greg had some falling out years ago, and that's all I know. But hey, I'm on vestry at my parish; I teach at a college. The college campus, where everyone is full of themselves and no one can get fired, can produce unmitigated, long-lived, and vicious campaigns. Welcome to the human race. The fact is I was nurtured at Bethany and heard the gospel there many times. It was good, even in my dreams, to be back.
"Now, Greg, where's my broom? There is dirt I need to sweep away."
t
Comments
Thanks for this. I'm not entirely sure what dreams mean. In the last few months I've chosen to forget what I remember in my dreams. But I think you have a pretty good handle on this one. I'll need a push broom to do my sweeping. Perhaps you've helped me to get started. Peace.
Wow - I read every word with bated breath. Bethany is in our blood, to be sure. Many good things were taught there, and the seeds sown by men who haven't set foot in the place in years have grown to mighty trees, indeed.
I feel profoundly blessed to have been a part of that place, to have had the honor of being taught by so many amazing people of God - pastors, friends, students.
My broom has sat too long in its corner.
Scott
However, what Keith said. Yes, it sounded prophetic, felt prophetic, when he said it. But you might as well have told Helen Keller she'd become an interior decorator someday. I think he was trying to give me something to hang on, to not drop off the edge (and those of you that know him know his story; he really is a beautiful man, or has always struck me as such). Regardless, Dave, you're right; it's beginning to happen. And I haven't even started, or just barely. May God give me the life, time, and energy to finish telling my story.
Many thanks to all of you. I really am feeling supported by this group; more than I thought I would! Sincere love and God's blessing to all.
t