Rewrite Please: Not Believable

Today began with shaking off another series of bad dreams and an excruciating back ache.

The back has been giving me little twinges for several weeks and now I can barely walk. But I was still able to teach (from a nice chair).

The dreams were bizarre, full of strange symbology I don’t understand.

There was a deadly coral snake outside a window. I tapped on the glass and it turned, sped across the street, biting a little girl on her leg. I ran outside and over to her. She was unconscious, not breathing. I began sucking on the swollen bite marks and yelled for her father to call 911.

I was given a deed for a penthouse suite in a tall building. It was old and dirty and broken. Beyond a door hanging by one hinge was a weird alley connecting the building to other tall buildings. Each building was built out of parts of derelict ships. Loitering gang members threatened me with guns.

I went down to the beach. There was a half buried corpse in the sand of a tide pool.

Along the waterfront district were office buildings with broken windows. I entered a recently vacated office. A tattered map of Mexico remained on the wall among a dozen barren hooks. Various brochures in Spanish, broken furniture, overturned chairs, and scattered papers littered the floor. Small indentations in the carpet marked where furniture had been removed. A conference table held a large brand new TV.

I awoke early. Our overly large dog was on the foot of the bed, twitching and moaning in his sleep.

I got up, fixed coffee. Brenda stumbled groggily from the couch and crawled into bed. I went to work feeling uneasy.

During my preparation period I ran home to see if I had any muscle relaxants or pain pills for my back.

Brenda came bustling out as I got out of the van. She busied herself loading clothes she had washed for her mother into the car. She turned to me, trembled, and burst into tears.

The hitch we had about Jeremiah’s immigration process has gotten messier. Her request for her birth certificate, to prove she is a U.S. citizen so she can sponsor his naturalization, is being held up because her current name isn’t the same as the birth certificate and she needs to request our marriage certificate by mail with a notarized signature from Califiornia.

Another detail.

Another delay.

Another stress.

I went to the bank with her. The notary public verified her identity and signature. She made a mistake on the paperwork. It had to be redone. We went back home, downloaded another copy of the documents. Back to the bank, then to a copy place, made duplicates for our records, went back home.

She confessed that last night she took all the over the counter sleeping pills we had. It was only eight, so they didn’t hurt her. I threatened to have her hospitalized unless she promised to see a doctor about her depression.

So, a quick recap...

My psoriasis is back and my hands have split in nine places. My back is out. I haven’t been getting restful sleep. I believe evil forces have been plaguing my son (Blood has appeared on walls. Maybe it was the dog, but he didn’t have any on him.). Jeremiah’s immigration keeps hitting roadblocks. My wife is suicidal. The car needs repairs and is in legal limbo because of an error by the insurance company. Our children are becoming withdrawn and worried because of the stress in our home. And my wife is trying to decide if she should leave me for another man.

And...

I am having a great year professionally. I am respected by my colleagues, church family, and community. I am going through one of the most creative times in my life, in writing, photography, painting, and teaching. I feel myself changing inside, growing, maturing, handling life in ways I know are more like the man God created me to be than I have ever felt in all my life.

And...

I am daily reminded of the realities of the love of my Lord, strengthened by His presence and reassurance. My faith is stronger with each passing problem, challenge, stress.

I wish I could help my wife more. I pray I she learns to see good in the world, despite the bizarre events which would be scratched out of any Hollywood movie script as simply not believable enough.

I praise my sweet Lord and master, Jesus, for giving me a heart that can sense Him when things get so dark.

I guess I’m a blessed man: knowing the Creator of the Universe is a blessing that surpasses my ability to describe.