The Case of the Disappearing Pills 


First an altercation, then a dream, then a message from the beyond. 

Magic is in the world all the time. You just have to stay alert for it, and recognize it when it happens to you. I'd go so far as to say that magic is an important, if infrequent, way that God communicates with us. I'm about to tell you a tale of magic that heals.

Yesterday, Stephen and I had what my mother used to call "a knock-down, drag-out fight." But we didn't actually strike one another. We just did the verbal equivalent of that. The details are personal and not important to the story anyway. But I always hate these rare explosions, because they leave both of us feeling terrible. We managed to survive the frozen, stilted conversation that characterized the rest of the day, and went to bed.

Just before I woke up this morning, at 7:00 a.m., I had an amazing dream followed by an amazing occurrence and a realization. So amazing that I told the story to Stephen, and he listened.

In the dream, Stephen and I and a couple of woman friends are in a town in the vicinity of New Mexico. The climate was dry, but there was some water and green. We had been having dinner and drinks at a local cantina, but something not quite right had been in the air. This was an external type of disturbance, people had been kind of annoying in the restaurant. We left that place, the four of us, and were walking up a wide path between some scattered buildings. Running down this space was a very small streamlet, small enough that it could easily be stepped over. The four of us were walking on either side of the stream.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a dark form coming up from the main street, feminine and shawled. An older woman. She intruded into our midst, and leaned down towards the stream, picking up water and bits of sand, soil and plant debris. She hurled it at us, and it struck Stephen and me. She cursed us ominously, saying "Something bad will happen to one of you within a year." I had the immediate sense that this curse would take, particularly on Stephen, unless I fought it with all my will.

The dream now swirled and morphed into several scenes where dim figures or expanding objects were trying to harm us. At one point I am trying to hold on to some kind of expanding material that is folding over on itself. I yell loudly and repeatedly, "I want this stopped!"

Now the scene switches again, and I have come to understand that this is all some kind of bizarre experiment. Stephen and I have tested out at the opposite ends of some scale, and experimenters are creating these forces in our perception to see how we will react to them. I can see the experimenter's cage and the dials and gadgets that are controlling things.

I wake up just before my morning alarm at 7:00 a.m. and lie there thinking about the dream. It seems to be sending the message, I think, that both of us have been infiltrated with an evil energy, and this is what has triggered yesterday's argument. I think briefly of calling a friend that clears negative energies from home environments. At just this moment, the alarm goes off.

Now I have a very precise ritual that I perform when the alarm rings. I must take three pills at that time every day. I have to take them then and then wait for an hour before I can eat. If I either forget to take them, or take them twice, the consequences can be very severe for my health. So to structure this morning medicating session, I have bought a chartreuse pill box with slots for all the days of the week. Every day of the week, I get up, open the lid for that day, take the three pills, leave the lid up as a marker of what I have done. Usually I lie down again, and sometimes don't get up until 8:00 a.m.

This morning, however, I was in for a shock. When I opened the Wednesday lid, no pills were there. I had a wave of panic sweep over me. I looked carefully. No pills. I then looked in the Thursday compartment. Three pills. "What has happened?" I thought. Did I take them in my sleep, because of the bad dream? Did someone take them out? Stephen? NO. Stephen wouldn't do that. Did I just miss that compartment. No. I always am very careful each Saturday night about filling them all.

What to do. Nothing came. Then I closed the lid of the Wednesday slot, closed my eyes and said, "God, I need your help." I sat there a moment. I opened the lid of the Wednesday compartment. The pills were all there. I really almost couldn't believe it. Maybe I was too sleepy when I first awoke, or maybe it was still to dark, or I was partially asleep. But I seldom have that kind of sleep confusion. Finally, I said to myself, "Well, now things are as they should be, so I will take the pills confidently." And I did.

Many will not agree with me, but I am seeing the disappearing pills as kind of a little miracle, an addition in waking space to the dream that was already clearly some kind of message to me about how to deal with the earlier altercation between Stephen and me. I have had many such little miracles in my life.

I thought for a while about what this all meant. One thing I decided was to remember that God (Christ) was trying to shine through the consciousness of BOTH Stephen and me. To the extent that we forget that, we are led into fear, anger, and controlling behaviors. I also remembered a book that I recently bought by David J. Lieberman, Make Peace with Anyone. Lieberman tells us in the introduction that we must remember to always do what is right. Any time we try to deal with fear by making ourselves look better that we are, or by trying to please someone, that will eventually backfire on us. So to protect ourselves, we must learn to always do what is right. In this case, as in any case, nonviolence is the correct path. Knock-down drag-out arguments are a form of verbal violence.

I went to Stephen immediately and asked him if he would listen to my story about my dream and the "miracle." I said it would be alright if he chose not to. He agreed to listen, and I told the story to him pretty much as I have here. When I finished, he said "Alright," and we have not discussed it further.

So what do I conclude about all this? Human beings need an occasional miracle. A miracle is like a little love-kick from God. You may not know the exact meaning or occasion for the kick, but it does remind you that somehow, God IS trying to shine through your consciousness and the next guy's consciousness, too, and that maybe you both had better just be aware of that, and not miss too many opportunities to let the love flow.

Aww. Yeah, but, well, why be ashamed of love? 

Posted: Wed - May 10, 2006 at 08:35 AM          

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