What My Dream Taught Me About Rest
L ast night, I had one of those dreams that felt more like a story than just a series of images. It started with me heading to the mall, but an old churchmate from college picked me up and drove me there. Somehow, instead of entering the mall, I walked into a church inside the mall—something I didn’t plan, yet there I was. I felt uneasy and tried to escape, slipping into the crowd to avoid being noticed. On the way out, I suddenly realized I was barefoot. My shoes were gone, and the escalators in front of me looked far too steep and dangerous. I hesitated, nervous about taking a step forward. Then, my bag went missing too. When I finally found it, the wallet was open and my 40,000 yen in cash had been stolen. I asked for help, but people passed me by, ignoring me as if I weren’t there. That’s when I panicked—and then, with a strange sense of awareness, I chose to wake up. I knew it was a dream, and I decided to leave it behind. As I thought about it later, I realized how much the dre...
