In last Tuesday’s post, I admitted that I am unable to interpret dreams.
Apparently, that includes my own.
But did I have a doozy the other night . . .
It was Easter Sunday.
We had chosen to hold our worship services off-site. Some cavernous, confusing auditorium.
Chris Macedo had, against my wishes, placed the worship band in a location where it could not be seen by the congregation.
We encouraged our high schoolers to play ping pong during the service. They did so with abandon.
The PowerPoint did not work right — it projected abbreviations only.
I got lost on my way to deliver the sermon. Chris finished the last song and while I was scrambling towards the platform via a route I didn’t know I heard him say to the people, “well, I’m sure Talbot will be here soon. He’s never late for anything.”
Worst of all . . . as I was making that trek to preach I looked down and noticed that I had chosen the wrong shoes to match what I was wearing. My first thought was, ‘Julie will kill me for this.’
Was I glad to wake up!
Any takers on interpretation?