Last night, I did not simply rest. I crossed into a realm where silence became sermon and vision became voice. The dream was not fragile or fleeting; it was vivid, insistent, and alive. It pressed against the edges of reality until I had to ask: Was this only sleep, or was it scripture written in symbols?
Dreams often dissolve with daylight, but this one clung to me like a mantle. Its images carried weight, its words carried authority, and its presence carried peace. I woke not with confusion, but with conviction — as though heaven had chosen the language of dreams to remind me of destiny.
Between sleep and scripture lies a sacred threshold. It is the place where imagination bows to revelation, where questions become prayers, and where the ordinary is interrupted by the extraordinary. To question the validity of such a dream is not doubt, but discernment. It is the act of honoring the possibility that God speaks in ways we least expect.
Today I choose to embrace the dream as more than a passing thought. I choose to see it as a message, a reminder, a call. And in writing these words, I invite you to consider your own dreams — the ones that refuse to fade, the ones that demand response. Perhaps they are not just dreams at all, but scripture waiting to be lived.
“If Part I was the dream that spoke, tomorrow unveils the question that lingers: how do we discern between imagination and revelation? Join me as I step deeper into the threshold between sleep and scripture.”
