This may not make much sense to my web readers. Sorry. But it still needs to be documented.

when I mention “we” below, I am referring to the three married families which hang out and minister together all the time: {R} & {S}, {I} & {S} and {D} & {C}. The “we” may have included others, as it was not exclusive – we all just seemed like friends.

At first, we weren’t going anywhere, then we were driving on the freeways of Southern California – the older freeways like the 405 and the 5 where they used to be two lanes, and now are maybe three to four lanes in each direction. I do not remember traffic, just lots of going. There were many exits. We didn’t get off, just kept going. I saw exits that looked like embankments, and/or overpasses. It was almost like driving in the LA river (concrete area with high embankments and bridges overhead).

I do not know what kind of vehicle we were driving in, the vehicle wasn’t important, the journey seemed important. At times it seemed like we were driving on the freeway in the open air (no vehicle) and yet we were in light traffic. The motion was consistent with driving.

We were going from place to place without stopping, trying to get somewhere. Like we were saying “nope, that’s not it”.

Finally, we arrived. It was a big church. The building was not important in the dream. I remember a long driveway. It had the air of a Southern California canyon, like a wet, earthy smell. I remember a white table on a semi-covered white patio (a stucco-covered building?). There were walls to our left and right so we were seated with our backs to the church – looking out at a lush green lawn (brightly lit by the sunlight) in front of us. We were sitting in a semi-circle around the round table – even though it was like three of us were the focus ( {R} {I} and {D}). The sun was shining on the table (even reflecting off the walls), but the overhang of the church kept us in the shade so we could see (otherwise, we would have to squint). There was a bottle of wine on the table. The bottle looked fat at the bottom, like a bottle of port rather than a traditional wine bottle. The glass of the bottle was clear – not dark colored. The wine was red and clear. I poured a glass and drank it. The strange thing, if you know me, you know I don’t drink at all. I was thinking about not drinking in the dream, even said “but I don’t drink” (or something like that), but for whatever reason, I drank anyway.

I put the cork back in the bottle, and pushed it in until it was flush with the bottle top. We wanted more, so I asked for a corkscrew to open the bottle again. Since we didn’t have a tool, {R} and I just pushed the cork in. I remember the cork and a few broken pieces (of the cork) floating in the bottle. {R} poured himself a glass of wine, and I poured a second one. We tried to offer some to {I}, but he wouldn’t join us, said he didn’t want to. I got up from the table thinking after two glasses of wine, I should be drunk, but I didn’t feel weird or dizzy.

I turned to the building behind us where there was a door – a plain white, prefabricated door which looked like doors in my house. Just then, my old friend Dave from San Diego arrived through the door. He was much fatter than I remember seeing him, like he put on 100 pounds. The weight didn’t look unhealthy. It wasn’t hanging or distorted. His skin looked clear and good. I asked Dave how he had found me. He told me we had been there (once?) before, and that “He knew where to look”. He told me he had lost everything, his marriage was over, and the implication was he had nothing left.

I do not remember being sad for him, but rather, mildly shocked to see him because I wasn’t expecting him.

Then I woke up.