The morning of July 16th, 2023, unfolded in the landscape of an extraordinary dream, marked by tranquility that gradually gave way to terror.
The dream was set on a peaceful Sunday, with me in the heart of a church, swept up in the rhythms of a worship service just underway. As a member of the worship team, I was cradling a guitar, my fingers weaving melodies that filled the sanctuary. The air was thick with devotion, but this tranquility would not last.
As the service proceeded, a subtle shift occurred. Individuals began to rise, quietly excusing themselves from the sanctuary. At first, the departure was slow, a stream of people slipping out one by one. However, in mere moments, the stream swelled into a torrent. A sudden urgency gripped the congregation; their orderly exit morphed into a hurried escape. Before long, the sanctuary stood almost empty, occupied only by the pastor, the worship team, and an undercurrent of confusion.
The dream took a startling turn when the sound technician swiftly changed the content displayed on the church screens. Instead of song lyrics, a live news broadcast took over, revealing a calamity of unthinkable scale unfolding in far-off locations: Australia and Houston, Texas were simultaneously grappling with catastrophic floods.
The scenes relayed by the broadcast were haunting. Rivers, swollen and unstoppable, consumed communities, homes, and vehicles in their path. The water's fury wrought massive structural damage, isolating vast areas and leaving people trapped in the wake of the disaster.
The cause of the disaster was not clear in my dream. However, the sudden and immense flooding bore a striking resemblance to the aftermath of seismic events like tsunamis or earthquakes. It was as though the catastrophe had befallen without any forewarning, plunging entire communities into chaos. The stark contrast between the peace of the Sunday service and the global disaster unfolding at the same time made this dream a profoundly unsettling experience.
Than I woke.