What You’ll Find When You Stop Running

I’ve had two epic dreams in my life. One of them entered my sleep the week before I got married at age 36, after years of running from relationships, fearing intimacy, and petrified of commitment. The other came the day after my 60th birthday.

I’d like to tell you about the first.

In my dream, I was a member of a counter terrorist group. I wore dark camo, a helmet, night vision goggles, a bulletproof vest, and black face paint—the whole deal.

Before I go on, you must know how comical this is.

In my non-dream life, I’m the kind of guy who would pet all of the forest animals if they’d let me, and I’m freaked out by guns and loud noises.

Back to the dream.

Our group (think SEAL team) was going after the bad guys.

To reach them, we had to make our way through a dense forest and scale a steep and jagged cliff, which we did with both stealth and skill. It was nearing sunset.

As we reached the cliff’s crest, we advanced toward the enemy’s camp. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion, followed by gunfire from almost every direction. They were waiting for us. The ensuing battle was fierce and chaotic.

It soon became evident that we were being overpowered. Our only escape was to retreat the way we came. Somehow we made it to the cliff and scaled down it amidst heavy fire.

The enemy followed us.

Running furiously through the woods, we eventually fanned out, finding separate paths—a strategy we’d obviously learned in training. As I was charging through the underbrush, I heard footsteps behind me. I had been singled out for pursuit.

I could hear him running behind me; the leaves and sticks under his feet crunching as he followed.

Nearing exhaustion, I kept running as fast as I could, but he followed me relentlessly. With limited visibility, I tripped over a root, sprawling on the forest floor, my face in the dirt. In a moment, his footsteps stopped, and I realized that he had caught up with me.

I turned to look at the face of the person who I thought would surely kill me.

And then I saw him.

A kindly, old, little guy – about the size of one of Snow White’s friends, only with the cool factor of someone in The Lord of the Rings. About three feet tall, this fellow had long, silver hair and a beard.

He didn’t look at me, but was busy spreading out a tablecloth over the ground. Then he brought out a large picnic basket and began placing plates and food on the cloth. There were meats and cheeses and desserts and foods that I’d never seen, but it looked like if you ate them, your life would change for the better.

He turned and looked up at me.

And with the kindest of eyes said with a gentle but firm voice, “You’ve been running from me all of your life, and all I ever wanted to do was give you a feast.

So here it is. Enjoy!”

And that was it.

I woke up crying and laughing, savoring every second of both the dream and the feast. Up until that moment, I don’t know when my heart had every felt that full. It was a holy moment.

It doesn’t take Sigmund Freud to interpret my dream. And from conversations I’ve had with friends of mine, this dream contains a familiar theme.

Our fears lead us to lonely and crazy places.

We often run from the wrong things. Sometimes we end up fighting ridiculous battles against imagined enemies. Often what we fight or evade are the very things destined to bless us.

Is there something you are fighting against or running from? Things that you’ve feared? Situations or relationships you’ve avoided?

I encourage you to turn around to face the stranger who is pursuing you.

You might be surprised at who (or what) is chasing you and maybe, just maybe, you’re in for a feast and the beginning of a new chapter in your story.