journal entry November 17, 2018
This morning I shared my dream with an elder woman from our church.
It didn’t go well, she didn’t listen and respond intentionally like I had anticipated. I wanted answers. I wanted to be rebuked or consoled that things like this happen to everyone. Maybe she didn’t understand me. She didn’t rebuke me or console me, she just told me she had no idea what I was talking about.
Embarrassed and frustrated, I promised myself not to think or speak of my dreams ever again. I had been praying about what to do with these dreams and this final attempt to reach out to someone to help understand them sealed the deal on my feelings. “It was a confirmation from the Lord that I shall not even think about my dreams or let them bother me, especially never to tell anyone about them, they mean nothing!” I thought to myself.
Then tonight, before bed I read in our nightly family bible study Genesis chapter 37, about Joseph and his dreams. How he told his brothers about his dreams and they hated him for it. Even his father who loved him more than all his other sons even rebuked him. Maybe nobody understood him.
Really? What? Do? I? Do? Now?
I am starting to feel like insomnia would be better.
I am frustrated and overwhelmed. I just wish I could talk to someone about this without them giving me a look that I’ve completely lost my mind.