She awoke with a jolt. The sheet was wrapped around her legs tightly and she knew how much she’d tossed and turned in the night. The room was dim and looking at the clock, the digits read to be just after sunrise. She lay still for a few moments trying to understand what her unconscious had been sharing.
Her dream was of a son going his own way. No surprises in that revelation for her night talks, but in the dream there had been a young man who was family. She didn’t recognize him, but he was a needed asset, a cousin of some kind to her son. Sitting up in the bed, her mind remembered the aggression with which she had pursued this young man for information. She offered a threat she was fully prepared to deliver. The young man believed her, giving her the information she sought. Her dream ended on a note of heading out to look for her son, to help him win the battle.
Tilting her head back she wondered about the dream. Anxiety was trying to play with her. She went to shower and turned the knobs to a cold setting. It was time to wake up. It was time to pray.