Dreams that hopscotch through your body,

Weaving the ideas of you, right on staple and stitchwork, sewing lines of fright and deepest joy into the forefront of your mind.

Who knows which you is realer, the one which walks and talks and touches, or doesn’t touch people,

Or the one which is free to do what the mind would, if not so fettered.

I heard one man say, “Don’t worry about it. God has spoken it to me (in a dream, no less!) that those things we do while dreaming, we’re not accountable. Only for our real actions, does He worry and condemn.”

But I was confused. For our Lord has spoken often, about the conditions of a heart.

Plus, I was often so much better, in my dreams. What of that? If he didn’t condemn our darkness, while we slept, than perhaps He wasn’t pleased with our goodness neither.

Dreams, that hopscotch through your body,

Perhaps they are readying you, for the realities of tomorrow (or even today).

Perhaps they warn of things, you couldn’t otherwise know.

Maybe they are a series of mirrors (like in a telescope, that reaches to the heavens), showing your eyes, what eyes alone can not detect.

Dreams they hopscotch through your soul,

Sometimes it is God Himself speaking, wrestling with us, unmasking us of our false names and false identities.

Or perhaps its all psychologist fodder, for when he has us in his chair.

Dreams that hopscotch through your soul.

They weave us together.

Every bit of us.