Some years ago I had such an unusual dream that I immediately recorded it in my journal. The details are still quite clear: I dreamed I was in a group of people who had just died. A man was separating us out into two groups. (I say "man," but at the time I understood him to be supernatural. For some reason, I also assumed he was an enemy.) These two groups were being directed through two turnstiles--one leading into captivity, and one leading to freedom.

 As this man separated us, I saw behind him rows of ceramic and glass cups, like the whimsical coffee mugs I collect. Somehow, I knew that if I could get one of those mugs and hold on to it, I would be set free. So I dashed past the man and grabbed one, and urged the people with me to do the same. Several did. Sure enough, he directed us through the turnstile of freedom. So I turned around and shouted at everyone still in line to grab a mug.

 Meanwhile, I saw that of the people with me, one man lost interest in his cup and let go of it. He was immediately jerked back through the other turnstile. Someone threw a young woman's favorite pair of sandals toward her. I warned her not to get go of her cup, but she did, in order to pick up the sandals. She was also grabbed back.

 Then I saw over the turnstile a man whom I knew was not supposed to have a cup--he was a seedy, weasel-y type of person. But while the guard was not looking, he ran over and stole one. As he had hoped, that got him through the turnstile of freedom. I then saw that the two separated groups were being led elsewhere--those without cups to a pit, and those with cups to a platform.

 You cannot imagine my terror when I looked down and saw that my cup was gone. Vanished! I started crying. Another guard directed me to the platform, but I said, "I can't go! I've lost my cup!"

 He said, "No, you haven't. You were holding on to it so tightly that it got absorbed into your skin. Look at your hands." I did, and saw the pattern of the cup imprinted on my palms. My gratitude and elation were indescribable. Then I woke.

 Over the next few weeks, in the course of my regular Bible study, I found some very interesting Scriptures. I offer them here for your consideration:

 "I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord." (Ps. 116:13)

 "We have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we had at first. . . . Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess." (Heb. 3:14; 4:14)

 The Lord says to His chosen people: "See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands [to never forget you]." (Isa. 49:16)

 "He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit, and I will live to enjoy the light." (Job 33:28) 

 And, "The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup." (Ps. 16:5, RSV. All preceding Scriptures are NIV.)

 In light of these Scriptures, I began to see that, as in C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce, the actions of myself and others in the dream were a pantomime of the choices we make, or made, in our lives. The man who lost interest in his cup just couldn't sustain the effort of doing the right thing. The girl who dropped her cup to pick up her favorite pair of sandals chose her previous lifestyle--her walk--over her new life. But in each case, some effort was required to hold on to what we had until it was internalized.

 Although there was someone standing guard over the cups, I never saw him prevent anyone from taking one. Was he just there to show us they were valuable? There were plenty of cups for the number of people in line, and they were all different. Everyone had the opportunity to take one up until we passed through the turnstiles--then it was too late. I also observed that those who lost their cups had no chance to get another. I do not remember that there was anything in the cup; all that mattered was possessing it. And I had a very real sense of urgency. It was imperative that I speak up. I hope I have done that adequately.

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