Lion in my house

I just woke up from a dream.   When it started, I was afraid. I was in a house, but not this house.  It was big, and I had dreamt of it before–and every time I’d dreamed of it, I’d been afraid, deeply afraid.  Not of the house or the things in it–I’d just been scared, scared like a little kid is scared of the dark. 

Except it wasn’t dark.

And following my every step was a lion.  He was big, with an enormous mane, and looked like he could have eaten me in a couple of large bites if he’d been so inclined.

But he didn’t. 

He just followed me.  Now that I think about it, the house was more like a mansion.  The hallways were long, all with long runners, and there were lots of stairs.  And many doors.

                                          (in my father’s house are many mansions)

And everywhere I went I could see the lion out of the corner of my eye.  I would turn a corner, he would turn it right after me.  It was like he was just hanging back enough that I could always see him.

He was always there.

Everything I did, every mundane task I performed, he was there.  Behind me. 

Following me.

I don’t remember feeling afraid, either.  I was oddly comforted.  It was almost as if he were protecting me.  I remember thinking of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

                                                 “He’s not a tame lion….”

I could sense the fierceness of this lion, right beneath the surface.  Watching over me.  I did not think about what dreaming of a lion meant at the time, I was just enjoying the comfort and safety I felt in this enormous house, where before I had been afraid.  But it’s been all I can think about since I started writing this, at 430am.

That’s what my life has been lately.  I have been walking around in an enormous mansion.  It’s so big, so intimidating in its scope.  There are so many rooms, so many hallways.  So many stairs to climb.

And I have been so afraid.

Afraid to explore this enormous house, this mansion.  Afraid to climb the stairs, because I don’t know what’s at the top.

Afraid to open doors.

But a lion is with me.  He is at my back–but not following me like a pet. 

He is no pet.

He is wild, and fierce, and with him I am safe.  And something tells me he has always been there at my back. 

I just never saw him before.

Yes, it was just a dream.

But considering how I’ve been feeling lately, it didn’t go how I’d have thought a dream would go.  I did not dream that my fears disappeared in a puff of smoke.  No, they were still there.  But because the Lion was with me, I was less afraid, and sometimes not afraid at all.

And this time, the first time I saw the Lion, that feeling stayed with me when I woke.

Think of it what you will, that dream brought me the first comfort I’d felt in many days.

And it stayed with me.