The Risen Christ

In a dream, somewhere between waking and sleeping, not quite awake, not quite asleep.  In agony over a lost child, strongly tempted to give it all up and turn my back on all things Christian.  In a black dark square room, no windows or doors, save one.   A door to darkness.  It was being blocked by my brothers and sisters in Christ, and I couldn’t leave, even though I wanted to.  Then a crack started in the oposite wall, and started to grow into the shape of a door, and the door slowly started to open,  and I was blinded, and I hid.

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