The season of Lent brings with it a time for introspection. It is a time of self-denial - the kind of self-denial that does not translate into "giving up" chocolate or losing a certain amount of weight. Self-denial is about taking a hard look into the things which draw us away from God and from each other, not with the idea that we are somehow going to confirm our sinfulness and find out that we are bad people after all, but with the idea that Easter is coming and now is and resurrection awaits us.

When one begins a discipline of self-denial, all sorts of things happen. The physical body responds to the changes, the mind opens up and the spirit takes on a certain intensity. The sub-conscious begins to do that which it was designed to do - bring up images for us to ponder and use to try to glean meaning in the real world. In other words, you begin to dream like mad.

I had a couple of dreams last night which I will share with you. I'd be interested in your interpretations. I'm still working on mine. Keep in mind, there is no one answer, but I have come to learn that the collective consciousness of community is capable of discerning meaning where an individual may not.

It is Sunday morning. I am in my church, not preparing to conduct the service, but sitting in the back of the church as a member of the congregation. I am also aware that this is not just my Episcopal congregation, but also the non-denominational Reformed congregation which shares our church and conducts services between the 8AM and 10:45AM services. I am sitting next to someone who I am aware is from the other congregation and is about to preach the sermon. As he gets up to preach, I notice, sitting in the pew in front of me, a group of people I am aware are members of both churches, sitting with a man who I am acutely aware is Saddam Hussein. I don't see his face fully, nor does he speak or notice me. He's just there and recognizable. The preacher from the other congregation is preaching, and I am also aware that I will preach after him. I don't know what he's preaching about, but I sense that it is a strong, hellfire sermon. Nor am I aware of what I have to say. When I do get up to preach, I have a brief glimpse of the church from my view up front, with Saddam Hussein in one of the pews near the back of the church, surrounded by members of the church. The next thing I know, I'm at home, thinking I'm done with services for the day, and suddenly remembering that I have one more to do and I have one minute to get downtown to do it. I come into the church, and only my congregation is there, Saddam Hussein is gone, and the dream ends. The image which stays with me is the image of him in the pew, surrounded by members of the church.

I am standing on the sandy shore of the ocean. It is probably the Pacific or maybe Puget Sound because I am aware that I am in the Pacific Northwest. It is a sunny day. Warm. No breeze. I have been fishing from the shore with a spinning rod and have hooked something that is putting up an awful fight and I'm having a hard time reeling it in. The fight is ferocious and I am getting very tired. As I am fighting this unseen fish I catch a glimpse of an old woman off to my right, walking down the beach toward me, all the while pointing somewhere out in the water. I am just enough distracted by this old woman, that, when I get the fish close enough to shore to see it, it makes a sudden lunge back for the depths, yanking my spinning rod from my hands. I saw the fish long enough to note that it was huge, very ugly, all brownish and covered with seaweed. Without another thought, I jump into the water to try to retrieve my spinning rod and find myself floundering in depths that I know to be bottomless. There are unseen things down there which may or may not come up to grab me. I am very frightened, but I continue to hold on to the spinning rod I retrieved. I start swimming for shore and I see the old woman, pointing out into the water, somewhere off to my left. For some reason I follow her direction and find myself in the midst of a large mass of flotsam and jetsam - seaweed, kelp, boxes from passing ships, that sort of thing. The water is an oily calm. I swim around to where I think the old woman is pointing and come to a fly rod floating amidst the junk. I release the spinning rod and when I take the fly rod in my hand, the flotsam clears away and a path opens to the beach. As I haul myself up on the beach, fly rod in hand, the old woman smiles and disappears.

Such are the current dreams in the Lenten Wilderness. Perhaps you have some insights. Perhaps you have had similar Wilderness Dreams.

Lent plods on. Easter is coming.