A Dream of Conflict

I had a dream many years ago, before my mission, if I remember right, which was brief and simple but profoundly burned itself into my memory and stood out powerfully in my mind immediately following it and for some time afterwards, but I didn't understand what it meant, if anything, at the time. It was just one of those dreams you remember vividly but don't quite know whether to lend attention to or let go.

The dream as I remember it:

I was walking through the halls of the local LDS Institute of Religion building which I considered my home away from home, surrounded by friends. We were walking together, past the paintings and classrooms which had become so familiar to me during my time attending the university. We were walking in a crowd, together, laughing, having a grand time despite a vague distraction or feeling that something was lacking which I couldn't quite explain. The funny thing was that I was in the middle, the only guy surrounded by a veritable mob of female friends. It was a fairly comical sight.

We rounded the corner of the hall towards the front door of the Institute. But somehow, I found myself drawn to another doorway which had gone unnoticed by the others, and I wandered away from the merry-making crowd of young women. I went through this doorway and out onto a moonlit veranda, surrounded by lush vegetation and a warm, tropical breeze. It was beautiful, paradisiacal. I felt at home and at peace, yet strangely solitary without the crowd. I enjoyed the rest, the brief time by myself, but also wished I could share this place with friends and show them how rich and serene it was.

The door back into the Institute seemed distant now. Vague. Undesirable after this gorgeous veranda. I didn't want to go back in. This place was too amazing. How had they missed it?

I heard a whisper in the distance, undiscernable. I strained to listen, and somewhere carried in the breeze was the sound of distant singing. It was a full chorus, angelic in tone. As I peered intently through the rich, green foliage of the dense trees, I caught a faint glimpse of the location from which the singing emanated. The sound entranced me as I realized it was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing exultant hymns from Temple Square, distant in a valley below.

This seemed to accentuate a deep feeling of isolation in spite of this paradise I was in. My heart was wrenched as I yearned to be where those voices were. I eagerly sifted through every potential opening in the trees for a path to the Tabernacle to be in the other place I now longed to be. Though I was deeply torn between this peaceful paradise and the joyful celebration in the valley below, I was further frustrated and agonized by the fact that I could find no way into that valley. There was no path. There was no way to join the haunting jubilee. There was nobody to help me, nobody reaching out from the door I'd passed through. Nobody to share the experience with. They had all gone their way when I wandered through the door to the veranda, and they were probably already there in the valley.

As the chorus swelled to its most jubilant and glorious climax, my heart seemed to tear apart completely as I felt no way to be a part of it, and I fell to my knees in helpless despair and sobbed uncontrollably as I wondered why I wanted to be there so badly and why I could not get there from this amazingly beautiful place.

I woke up, face wet with tears and feeling despondent. I think I journaled the dream, but I don't know where I wrote it. If I find it, maybe I'll update this to correct anything I remember incorrectly, but that's the dream as I remember it. I had no idea what to make of it. It didn't make sense. It seemed random but deeply significant at the same time.

Some time ago now, probably 5-6 years later, during a particularly reflective time, this dream came back like a flash, and it finally made some sense; it finally seemed applicable. I had some choices to make, and they were going to be some of the hardest I'd ever faced.