My Beautiful Dream

Dear Diary, My Beautiful Dream

September 05, 2024

Mummy, I have to tell you about this dream I had. It was so vivid, so real, I felt like I was living it. I was standing in front of an elevator, waiting for my Big Sister’s brother. He was getting some pastries, and I was supposed to join him in his car for a lift. To be helpful, I offered to carry some of his things—a white towel and a white bedsheet, like the ones we use in my house. I added them to what I was already holding and waited in the lobby, right in front of the elevator. The seats there were so exotic, luxurious, inviting. I could see the cafeteria to my left, but something pulled my attention to the right, where the walls were made entirely of glass.

We were on the 17th floor—I know because I glanced at the number displayed—and the view outside was breathtaking. I moved closer to the glass, drawn by the scenery. I couldn’t see the ground below, only the vast, endless stretch of beach and the ocean meeting at a distant horizon. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and the sun sat right at the water’s edge. It was like the sun was rising from the ocean, and there was nothing beyond it, just endless beauty. The sight was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.

As I looked up at the sky, I was stunned by its colours. It was like someone had painted the heavens in a rainbow, every hue more vibrant than the last. I wondered, “How could this be so beautiful?” It was overwhelming, almost too much to bear. Then, suddenly, I saw Him—Jesus, above the sun, bent over as if pouring something out of his hands onto the sun. I froze, my heart racing. What was He pouring? From His hands flowed a radiant, glowing liquid, pouring into the sun and spreading out into the ocean, making everything even more beautiful. But my awe quickly turned to fear.

I panicked. I could feel my body trembling. What was happening? I jumped back, realising I wasn’t far from the elevator. My mind was racing, my thoughts spiralling. “Is this it? Is this the end?” I looked frantically around, pressing my face to the glass, trying to see as far as I could, both to my left and right. I expected to see angels, ready to blow their trumpets, signalling the rapture. But there were none. My fear intensified. I was crying hot tears. Was this the moment Jesus would end the world? I began crying, tears streaming down my face. My heart pounded in my chest as I thought, “What if this is it? What if I’m not ready?”

I begged for forgiveness, for every sin I had ever committed—past, present, and future. The ocean and sky were so stunningly beautiful, and I felt so small, so unworthy. I looked around, wondering, “Is this hell? Is this the lobby of hell?” Nothing made sense, except for how heartbreakingly beautiful everything looked. The sun meeting the ocean, the sky painted with all the colours my eyes had ever seen.

In a rush of fear, I jolted awake. I was soaked in sweat. I got up and went to the bathroom, relieved it was just a dream. But there was a sadness, too—a sadness that it had ended, a longing to return to that place, despite the fear. Toyo, you must be mad.

I crawled back into bed, my mind still racing. I started to listen to my daily “Ten Minutes with Jesus.” Guess what? By happenstance, it was all about Jesus and Peter with the miracle of the fish almost sinking two boats. I was like, “Why water, oooo? Why is it water today?” I didn’t know when I drifted off to sleep again, only to find myself back in the same dream.

This time, I was still waiting by the elevator, still holding the towel and bedsheet. I felt exhausted, so I decided to sit on one of the exotic chairs and close my eyes, just for a moment. Guess what? When I opened them again, it was a dream within a dream. I was back at the glass, staring at the ocean and the sun. Jesus was still there, bent over, pouring something into the sun. This time, I wasn’t alone. Someone was beside me (it looked like someone, but I think there were many). I turned to them, panicked, saying, “I’ve seen this dream before.” I was wailing, shrieking, telling them, “I think we’re going to die.”

The person(s) beside me didn’t even answer me but gently urged me to look again, to truly see what was happening. I was like, “Please tell me if we were both in hell and they are just going to start the fire to boil us all because lately, all my dreams have been about me being deceived into being in the wrong place.”

I was telling the person, “Look out, do we look like we belong to that most beautiful place?” I was crying profusely, and the person shook me to stop my lamentation and just look to understand. With anger in me, I shook the person back, even though I couldn’t see his or her face, with serious tears flowing down my face and a sting of impatience, trying to be faster in mercy should God’s angels decide to blow their trumpet. I said, “Do I look like someone who has wisdom? Who can have wisdom if God doesn’t give it?” I started wailing that I was about to go to hell and still lacked wisdom.

That was when this stranger(s) started to beg me to just look. He asked me to repeat what I saw. I said, “That is the majestic King bent over the sun, so beautiful—yet ordinary; powerful, yet somehow restrained, with hands outstretched, pouring something into the sun that is flowing into the ocean and all around us, making it even so much more beautiful. Nothing can be compared to it.” Then they said, “And you don’t understand?” My fear flared up again. “Are we in hell?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Is this where it begins?!” My eyes filled with tears as I pleaded with this stranger(s), desperate to understand.

For the third time, they said, “Look closely; what do you see?”

“Jesus,” I replied, “pouring something into the sun. It’s flowing into the ocean, making everything beautiful. But… I don’t understand.”

I was getting frustrated. How could he talk about understanding when we could be facing God’s judgement any moment? I started asking for forgiveness again. The person then said, “You’re being selfish.” I snapped back, “You’re just standing there like a statue; you’re not using your mouth to do anything!” Then he gently lifted my face to look directly at Jesus and his hands and said, “Jesus isn’t about to condemn the world. What he’s pouring is mercy, transforming everything from bleak to beautiful.” Then another said looking at me with a calm smile. “Jesus isn’t here to condemn the world. Not today!”

I blinked, confused, my mind racing. “Mercy?” I asked, half-laughing in disbelief. “Is Jesus doing some kind of… biodiversity environmental sanitation?” The stranger laughed, a light, freeing laugh that cut through my fear. “Stop overthinking with your brain for a moment,” they said gently. “Just look and see.”

And then it hit me. This wasn’t about judgement or the end of the world. It was about mercy—pure, abundant mercy that renews and transforms. A wave of relief washed over me. I turned to the stranger, my face brightening with realisation. “Why didn’t you say this sooner?” I demanded, almost angrily.

The stranger smiled softly. “I was trying,” they said, “but you were too caught up in your fears to listen.”

We both began to pray, asking for mercy, not just for ourselves but for the entire world. I couldn’t stop asking for mercy for myself even as we prayed for everyone else. “Make e no be say na my end I don reach so. Jesus please take me to heaven when I die, I don’t want to boil inside fire.”

Then I woke up again, still in my dream. I found myself not on the couch I slept on but back at the glass, watching as Jesus was still pouring more and more of that luminous liquid. The water level had risen to the point that it was almost covering the sun that was piercing it in glory, standing as a titan in the sea—everything became even more stunning. I have never seen anything like it before. If I were not dreaming, I would have fainted from having seen something so beautiful. I felt a deep, overwhelming peace.

Then I woke up, feeling calm, my heart light. I went to the bathroom again, and as I lay back down, I felt a smile spread across my face. People, guess what? I still dreamt again!

Yours Truly,

Did you read, God – my flatmate? https://oluabikoye.com/blog/god-my-flatmate/

Salty Surprise? https://oluabikoye.com/blog/salty-surprise/

The Parallel Rosary: A Mother’s Faith https://oluabikoye.com/blog/the-parallel-rosary-a-mothers-faith/