As the day wore on, what little time I gave to the nightmare of the night before began to shred in to a different take on the thoughts of late night trauma. The concept of NASCAR legends serving as elders at Presbytery meetings began to take a comical take. By the time I left work and went to church the importance of the dream began to unravel. Finally, I took this dream to my spiritual advisor, Father Timothy. His response? Get a life!
Now I worry about taking this stuff too seriously. Or should our pastor be replaced?
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