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.

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Published by

twilk68

God has changed my life, and changed me. It's that simple. I will ever be grateful, and if I live to be...well, OLD, I will never tire of telling people about the work done in my life, and what can be done in theirs, should they trust God with their innermost everything...

One thought on “Lion in my house”

  1. I don’t have the eloquent words to express quite how “Lion in my house,” makes me feel, but I’m in awe of such an incredible dream. It provides a reminder of how God watches over us and guides us, while still allowing us to make our own choices. He is always there for us. His word says, “Do not be afraid!”

    Isaiah 41:10 says

    ‘Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’

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