To Whomever May Interpret

Though I sleep very soundly, I rarely remember my dreams. However, I woke one morning with this dream still running through my mind.


I don't know what city I was in, but I know that it wasn't my hometown. I was in a large building, that seemed much like a church, when someone yelled "FIRE." I dreamed that I could see flames at the edges of my peripheral vision, but I wasn't afraid, only compelled to act. Suddenly, all the older adults brought children to me, then they exited the building. The children were different shapes and sizes, but all of them were black and around a year old. I had one in each arm, and several more nestled around me. Their clothes were tarnished in soot and ashes, ripped and hanging from them, but they weren't crying. Still, I could see fear and hurt in their eyes. Yet more than their fear, I saw their trust in me, or anyone not so powerless as they. I had previous knowledge that their parents had died in the fire and no one else wanted to be in this place with them. Somehow, I wound up in the center of the building, still burdened by the weight of several children in my arms and around my feet. The building wasn't burning down completely, only burning indefinitely. I oddly felt urgency amidst the sanctuary, but the urgency had changed from one of protection of the endangered and helpless, but the urgency to show others. It was an auditorium full of middle-aged white people and their nicely-dressed white children. I stood motionless and speechless in front of the crowd, as if the mere spectacle of myself and my orphans would bring change in their minds.

I have tried to interpret this since that night. I have come to several conclusions. Some make me cringe. Others make my heart hope for the future God has prepared for me. I am open to other interpretations. Please share.