Daydreaming

My parents always dragged me to church. We sat in the same bench every Sunday, scrubbed and starched and bored to death. At least I was bored. Mom and Dad didn’t seem tired of listening to the pastor drone on week after week. Maybe that’d make sense when I was older. But I was getting older. Shouldn’t I understand by now? I mean, I was old enough to drive soon. Maybe I’d try a different church. 

I glanced over at them. They were enthralled, following along in their Bibles. I pulled my phone from my pocket. They’d think I was searching a reference, but I was looking for something to keep me awake. I opened instagram and scrolled through the recent posts, then flipped through memes on global. Some conspiracy theorist vid about war rumours popped up. The volume made me jump. I quickly swiped the app up.

No doubt, later on I’d have to explain why my bible app developed loud ads, but for now I slipped it back into my pocket and turned my eyes back on the preacher. 

He kept talking. His voice was soothing. I tried to listen to him, but it was hard. To my left, Mrs. Johnson sneezed. Someone in front of me got up to use the washroom. The little boy one bench over shuffled his feet, then pinched his sister. Behind me, a baby started crying. 

Another noise caught my attention. As soon as I noticed it, I wondered how long it had been going on. It was getting louder, like a hum turning into a growl; then something all wrong happened and I hit my head on the bench in front of me and everything was on fire and people were screaming and then—then, it was all gone. 

I blinked, and couldn’t figure out where I was. I was standing on something invisible. Everything around me was black space, except the row of people I was in. Half of the people in front of me looked familiar. I was pretty sure the person in front of me was Mrs. Johnson. The other half of the people were tall and shiny, one standing beside each human in the line. I glanced beside me and wasn’t even surprised to see one there. 

“Are you guarding me?” I asked. I had meant to sound defiant, like little me was someone to be reckoned with, but my voice shook and still came out too loud in the stillness. He glanced at me with a nod, then faced toward the front of the line again. 

I looked down at my hands. They were untied. Nothing was stopping me from running away, but I ventured to ask another question. “Are you keeping me from escaping or are you protecting me from something?”

He looked at me again, longer this time. His face was strange and unreadable. Then he nodded again. 

“Which one?” I pressed, but he ignored me. I looked where he was looking, farther down the line. I could almost make out the end. Had I been waiting a long time? I wasn’t sure. The line went forward, and my guard motioned me to follow. It was terrifying to step out into the blackness. Something met my feet, but I had the disconcerting feeling that only the space directly underneath my feet was solid, and if I simply rolled my foot the wrong way, I’d fall off into the deep nothingness underneath me. 

So, I reasonably stood still and only moved when he told me to. Soon—or after a long time; I really had no idea—I could see that there was someone very bright waiting for us. The instant that that light came into view, my guard stood even straighter than he was. I looked up at his face again, and he wore a very noble expression: the kind someone could only wear if they were a loyal servant to a good and powerful master. That made me realize where I was.

I thought about where I had been, what had happened, and what I knew about being dead. Because that’s what I was. I was dead. 

And I was facing judgement. 

My mind seemed to both be racing and slogging through mud. I could remember my past, but I couldn’t change my thoughts or opinions. The line moved up again and again and again until the brightness hurt. 

Mrs. Johnson disappeared. Not really, but I couldn’t see where she went, because as soon as she was gone, the light from the One on the throne in front of me blinded my view of anything else. 

I couldn’t really see Him. But I felt so, so tiny. I felt something else, too. I felt wrong. The weight of the enormity pressed on me, and I wanted it to stop. My heart was being pushed into my stomach with guilt. I realized He’d given me a way out, but I hadn’t taken it. He spoke, and His words tore my ears, but what hurt more was that I knew He was right. 

The pressure released, but somehow there was no relief. I was in the darkness. My guard was gone, the line was gone, and God was gone. Silence bore into me. The darkness made itself known too, creeping through my eyeballs and fingertips. I was completely alone. 

And I’d stay this way. I moved, I fidgeted. There was nowhere to go. I walked on and on, but everywhere was dark and shapeless and void. There was nothing. No one. And I knew that I could run without stopping, but the end of time was passed and I’d find nothing. I grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled in frustration, but the pain brought no relief, and I realized that if I screamed, no one would hear me. Ever. 

I woke up. The little boy snickered at me, got scolded in a harsh whisper, then smirked maliciously. I had fallen asleep in church. My mom raised her eyebrow and gave a little smile, then turned her focus back to the preacher. 

I did too. That dream had been too real. I needed to change—or rather, I needed to be changed—and I knew just Who to go to.