Advent Dream

 In the quiet of the night, he stirred, rolling over once more. His head whirled as he sought to gather his thoughts and rationally navigate the circumstances he faced. His beard was untrimmed and his clothes still dirty from the labor of his craft as he lay flat on the bed, seeking rest. The man's mind was a maze of fear and faith, his conscience burdened in ways he never believed it could be. Eyes shut, he let the blackness of thought overtake him and dreamt. An image steadily formed in his mind's eye and began to gain clarity. A young girl, lowly, holding herself in quiet tears, knelt before him in the dark. As he saw her, his heart skipped, and compassion welled up in his chest, only to be struck down by a sudden purge of anger and betrayal. Just as his frown of empathy turned to pursed lips, the girl vanished like dust being stirred in a sunlit room. A fear echoed in his heart as the picture of the girl was vaporized. He felt empty and alone.

Again, his dreams came upon him once more, and he lay in his bed as his mind traveled down a deeper tunnel of thought. He dreamt of nothing but raw blackness now. He found a space in the dream where the air grew thick, as if it had been formed by tar, and the suffocating blackness of despair crept over him like a wet blanket. The weight of his heart made him slowly sink into an inescapable abyss; the moment was paused. After some time of being swallowed by the void, a soft, cool, almost unnoticeable wind hit his face. The void, heavy air dissipated, and a speck of light began to form. He turned to catch it, but in the darkness, even the pinprick of light made him squint. Suddenly, like a curtain torn by a sharp blade, the light broke through as floodwaters break a dam. So brightly it shone in the dark place that the man fell over, not just to close his eyes but covered his ears as well. The daybreak that streamed forth was accompanied by an ever-growing chime of strings and bells, each note attached to every beam of light shining. Then the warmth which followed the light came, calming the man, and the symphonic noise grew familiar. Finally having enough courage, the man opened his eyes and turned toward the open torn cavity of light, when he saw, stepping through the threshold between light and dark, a warrior with the crowns of kings as a bracelet on his wrist and a sword in his hand.

The warrior, whose face was too pure to understand, smiled at him and spoke the beginning and end of this man's story: "Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid.