My recent dreams have been like chapters from a novel I haven’t read, not scary, not fantastic, just bits of life going on as usual for somebody. Occasionally they contain someone I know, a relative or friend, but most of the time the “cast” are strangers to me.

While I generally recall these dreams when I first awake, I don’t remember much about them after a few minutes. They aren’t disturbing, not even annoying – they just are.

But this past Sunday night as I was preparing to sleep, I asked the Lord to give me something more spiritual, more useful in a dream. And He did.

I was standing in a room in a building, furniture scattered around as if an office was being furnished, the placement of chairs and tables and desks experimented with to get the best arrangement. I was talking to a young man who was…