Several years back I had a dream I’ll never forget.

I believe that the most powerful dreams come at the end of your sleep so that they’ll be remembered.

It was early morning, I remember this because I had returned to sleep after one of those brief wake ups we do to adjust pillows and squeeze sleeping limbs.

Strangely I fell into REM sleep in just a matter of seconds.

It seemed the moment that I closed my eyes I was dreaming, if that’s what you want to call it.

I was facing the window next to my bed with my back turned away from my husband who was sleeping on the left side of the bed. In my slumber I was aware of the morning sunlight pressing against my eyelids.

Dreaming, I heard footsteps off in the distance.  I lay there in my bed waiting the way someone does when a stranger approaches the door, waiting for them to actually knock. The closer the footsteps got the more thunderous they became, almost like the trot of a Clydesdale. So as the stranger approached the steps of the porch my dream eyes were drawn to his feet, the feet that seemed to make the sound of hoofs.

My adrenalin began to rise with each hollow clomp. A fuming energy began to stir in my spirit and I suddenly became aware that I was in that place, the place between dreams and reality, a spiritual place, deceivingly lucid.

The stranger walked past the front door as he headed for the window where I was laying. Oh, heck no, he’s coming in here! I thought. So I tried to wake myself up, but I couldn’t. I was frozen, totally aware of my surroundings, but frozen. I have no choice but to allow the dream to unfold like an oncoming car crash that could not be avoided. 

This dark stranger walked with an eerie confidence, I somehow knew that he was on a mission and had full intentions of carrying it out, loyal to his cause. At this time I knew that this stranger was male, a soldier of a battle yet seen.

Trying to see the face of this dark fighter my dream eyes watched as a black silk cloak, torn and weathered, sway in the wind to reveal a strange weapon he carried on his back.

By now I could feel my body fidgeting in every attempt to awake, but I couldn’t.  He moved in closer, somehow walking through the window and approaching the bed. I could even feel the morning air brush against my sleeping body.

I could see him now.

His massive chest scorched and scarred revealing lost battles, but his pride and grit revealed an unresolved purpose and determination that gave me the creeps. His skin color almost beautiful, the color of tar, freshly laid. But his darkness ran deep. I remember looking in his face but I don’t remember what he looked like, only his cold expression.

The intrusive massive figure leaned over me, watching me as I despised my helpless state; he, longing to take advantage of it.

Suddenly I knew that he was waiting for me somehow, the way a cat waits outside a mouse hole. I wanted so badly to be able to wake up my sleeping husband even though I see that the stranger is twice his size. I struggle to move my body and manage to jerk my leg. At that moment, the dark soldier steps away and leaves my room the same way he came in.  The instant he was out of sight I awoke.

My thoughts went right to prayer, “What was that God?”

The first thought that returned was “If you think his soldiers are fierce, wait until you see mine.”

Then I thought, what does he want?  The thought returned a response, “He wants to win. You’re a soldier–mightier, but you don’t receive the power of My might yet. You’re still in training. Put on your Armor! Whether you’re wearing it or not, the battle is underway.”

“Wake up, because I love you.”