They say smell is closely linked to memory and can be a
trigger for emotional memory. Whomever they are they are right. I was at Wal-Mart
the other day getting a few things for work. Over all it was a good morning for
me. I had gotten some sleep. I did not hurt and was able to walk, so that is a
good start to the morning for me. Then my emotional world came crashing in on
me. I walked by a man that had on cologne, and the smell of it triggered an
emotional and physical response I was afraid. I wanted to scream. I thought I was going to
throw up, and over all become hysterical in the frozen food section. All I
could do was repeat over and over in my head “God help me.” I managed to get out of there without any hysterics.
I managed to only have a few tears fall on the way to the office. By the time I
got to work, I was doing okay.
I wanted to tell my husband about this, but by the time I
had a chance, it was late, and I did not want to think about it before going to
bed. I did not want to have any nightmares. I did mention it to him Wednesday
evening after church. I felt confident that enough time had passed that I would
be okay and did not need to worry about any nightmares. I was correct. By Thursday,
I had not thought anymore about it, perhaps because no specific memory was
triggered just emotional and a little physical reaction.
Last night, early morning, the nightmares came. They came in
crushing waves, drowning me, suffocating me. The last one that I woke from had
me sobbing and shacking, and I watched as the last of the darkness turned to
light.
I will not go into any great details. They are not needed.
However, there was something very important in that last dreaming. I was in a house, a huge house, call it a
mansion. It seemed to have a million rooms, and every room I went into
something awful happened. The first rooms were not as bad as the last. One
thing that was the same through each room was what I was saying, “ Not in my
Father’s house.” By the time I was in the last part of the nightmare, I was
screaming it over and over again. I am
struggling not to cry as I write this. Hard to type through tears.
Upon waking ,I had no idea why I would be saying that. I
knew that the house in my dream was not my dad’s.
As the fear and horrors of the dreams started to loss their
grip on me, I realized what I meant by my words. “Not in my Father’s House.” I
am a child of God. Every part of me, my waking and my sleeping mind, both are
my Father’s. My mind is a part of my Father’s house. Those demons that waited
had no right to be there inside my head.
My subconscious mind knew this and was rebuking them. Even though I know it was
all nightmares triggered from a smell, the emotional effects are still
there. I also know that even though I
have felt distant from my Holy Father, my subconscious mind still cries out for
Him.
I have felt as though I have been going through the motions
of life spiritually and, well, just living in general. My body hates me more
days than not and lately. It has added more things to starts failing. It takes
a toll physically, but it is the emotional toll that does the real killing of
the spirit.
I can say it is well with my soul, because I love God, but
my spirit is as ill as the rest of my body, perhaps in some ways more. There is
hope. I know this because of the nightmares from last night. I have always had
Daddy to help me. I now have, “Not in MY FATHERS HOUSE!” The enemy has no rights, and, as Abba’s child,
I have the right to proclaim this and to rebuke any and all enemies from trying
to take it away.
