Last night I dreamed that I was living in a massive mansion of marble. The mansion was being built around my childhood home by some friend of mine. I recall looking out a window from high above at a small group who had gathered around to admire and/or to defame my grotesque, yet beautiful home. The marble was brown and I had no clue what the exterior of the mansion looked like until I had stepped outside to confront the onlookers outside.
I was driven to confront them when I noticed a girl trying to plant pink flowers in the barren, hard dirt surrounding the home. This angered me; it is my courtyard and she had no place to alter it. I went outside and was asked questions by those gathered around. I was amazed myself when I looked back at the towering structure. It had a wall that was like a spiraling ribbon of stone. The top of the building was unfinished, rough and unpleasing to the eye. I never spoke with the girl who was planting flowers. I felt safe in my mansion. I thought of Jesus' words: "In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." John 14:2
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