  "Come, come let us return to the Lord. " I had a disturbing dream. It started out with an overwhelming sense of panic. I had avoided or forgotten to attend half of my classes, and it was the end of my last semester of senior year. What the hell is wrong with me? How could I avoid all that work? How did I get myself into this mess?
Distraught and desparate, I set out to reason with the registrar's office. It was at this moment that I remembered that a certain lady was in my classes, one of formidable presence that distracted the class with her vitriolic outbursts. She resembled Ina Garten of the Food network show " urlLink Barefoot Contessa ," without the smile and polite disposition. It turned out that she was a dangerous cult leader, ruthless with violence and absolute in her power.
I decided to tip the government agency out to get her, with the hope that I can use the excuse of emotional damages to drop the classes with no charge. Unfortunately, they decided to involve me in her capture and placed me in the sting operation to capture her. It was an exciting affair at first, stormng into her house with guns ablazin'. She put up a deadly fight, killing most of the people with me. She shot the gun out of my hand, and pointed it at my head. At that moment, a partner burst in and threw me live electrical wire.
I thrust it onto her body with such a conviction that could only be borne from desparation for survival. Her eyes rolled upward, and she vigorously shook in place. Torrents of sweat developed on her skin, and I kept it going until I knew she was subdued. The dream until this point seemed a bit ludicrous, but now it took on a whole different air. Beginning from panic, I had progressed to excitement and bravery.
But now, a horrid savagery filled my veins, and I dropped the wire. There was glee in my defense, not fear. There was a morbid enjoyment in my violence. Still shaken from this incident, the dream shifted to the aftermath. I found an attorney and asked with urgency that he vouch for me as I tried to drop my classes without penalty. He asked me to recount my experiences with the woman and her deadly followers. The dream shifted again to explain my flashback.
I was with some of my church members, and we had pulled into a retreat center. The overcast sky had a strange blue and gray pallor, and I was now overcome by a sensation of fear. I entered one of the buildings, and climbed the staircase. There's nothing to fear , I thought, and walked down the hallway. I heard a shout from behind me, and saw one of the woman's men. A fearful chase ensued, the details of which I forget now.
All I can remember is the fear that gripped me during pursuit. I reunited with my church members, and we sped out of there in a hurry. After all of this, an intense sensation guilt arose. How could I have enjoyed torturing someone? Furthermore, how could I use my negative experiences as an excuse to escape the consequences that resulted from my laziness that semester?
I awoke from this dream awash with all of the emotions I've mentioned: panic, excitement, savage satisfaction, fear, guilt. How could I be so ungrateful for what I have? How could I complain? How could I NOT be satisfied with where I am? Why am I not satisfied with my God? I'm listening to a song from this year's One Day. Has it already been seven months since I heard it? "Come, let us return to the Lord," pleads Mr. Redman. "With brokenness of heart, we consecrate our lives singing come, come let us return to Lord. " What now? 
